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makeste · 3 years

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BnHA Chapter 325: Deku VS the Outside of U.A. ~Conclusion~

Previously on BnHA: Ochako was all “dear bloodthirsty mob, this kid you see standing before you has fought harder than anyone and put his life on the line to protect you all, so please chill the fuck out, jesus christ. like, putting aside that he’s humanity’s best hope and so it’s very much in your best interests to let him rest and recover someplace safe so that he can keep fighting for us, are y’all seriously going to turn away an injured and exhausted child in front of his sobbing mother?? seriously?? come on now.” I’m paraphrasing here but that’s basically how it went down. Anyway so then the mob was all, “...” and Deku collapsed to his knees in tears, and Gigantic Fox Lady and Kouta ran over to give him a hug but then the chapter ended.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “FINE, YOU CAN HUG HIM”, which, was that so hard?? The U.A. Clown Mob is all “come to think of it, we’ve kind of been taking the heroes for granted this entire time, maybe we should be less passive in the future. anyway so Deku if it’s not too much to ask, can you please save everyone and fix everything.” Deku is all “I sure can, and by the way I forgive you for swarming around all menacingly two minutes ago and trying to deny me basic shelter and stuff.” Ectoplasm is all, “hey Todogang get a load of this. [walks in a circle].” Hawks is all, “that’s literally the greatest thing I’ve ever seen.” Rat Principal is all, “anyway so that’s what your students did today, hope you’re enjoying your new *~*ROBOT LEG*~*, Aizawa.” Aizawa is all “[lots of exposition about Kurogiri and for some reason, Toga, while being all brooding and sexy].” All Might is all “[standing here right outside of U.A. doing absolutely nothing and being foreboding AF]” and that immediately sucked away all of the warm fuzzy feelings from the hugs, goddammit.

each new week has become a waiting game of “when will Deku finally get to take a bath so people will actually be willing to go near him and give him the hugs he deserves.” the stakes have never been so compelling. I’ve almost forgotten about AFO entirely

lmaoooooo

me: for the love of god will someone please give Deku a hug before I die of old age

Mineta: YOU GOT IT!! --

Iida: [SWIFTLY CUTS HIM OFF] NOT YOU

fucking losing it at Mineta’s crying face. he really wanted to hug him. I legit feel bad but this is also the funniest thing I have seen all week, omg

somehow Kouta, who last week was only a hand’s breadth away from touching Deku’s head, is now twenty miles away from him in this new chapter

can I make a Loki reference here. is this recap a good place to insert a joke about someone using a TVA time-rewinding device to fuck with my poor boy Kouta over here. well anyway there it is

AND NOW HE’S BACK ALL OF A SUDDEN OMG

(ETA: since when is he “niichan” omg?? can’t handle this cuteness.)

BUT THEY’RE STILL NOT HUGGING HIM FFFFKFFFFF. WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO. WHO DO I HAVE TO BRIBE AND/OR BLACKMAIL

OH NO KOUTA IS CRYING THAT’S IT I’M DONE FOR

“when I heard that lady I knew that I had to go, but then stop again within inches of actually touching you because you smell like week-old rotten onions.” listen Kouta, I’m not saying I don’t get it, but you all can’t keep doing this to me. it’s the way you guys keep teasing it. like, if you’re gonna hug him, hug him. don’t just stand there with your arms held rigidly out in front of you like a molded action figure

OH MY GOSH BUT HE SAID THE THING

KOUTA SWOOPING IN AT THE LAST MINUTE TO TAKE ALL THE CREDIT FOR FIXING DEKU LIKE THAT ONE KID IN THE GROUP PROJECT WHO DOES ABSOLUTELY NOTHING BUT STILL TAGS HIS NAME ONTO THE REPORT ANYWAY, WHAT A KNAVE

GASP

( ´͈ ᗨ `͈ )

SHE PICKED HIM UP LIKE A LITTLE BABY OMG?? she just leaned right over and lifted this child like he was a small animal. like a lil baby futon that she was about to hang up to dry. oh my god

-- HEY WHAT

(: well that’s extremely fucked up. though sadly not too surprising given what we just saw these past couple chapters

incidentally, I hope that anyone who was legitimately defending the civilians’ perspective earlier takes note here of how quickly that line of thinking -- “we’re just trying to keep our families safe” and all that-- can lead to straight up bigotry. if you’re willing to deny a child shelter and protection simply because he’s not YOUR child, and because you’ve decided based on Internet rumors (no real-world parallels there, I’m sure) that he might present a threat, it’s really not that much further of a leap to discriminating against entire groups of people simply because you perceive those groups as being dangerous. I’m sure the people who turned Gigantic Fox Lady away also told themselves afterwards that they did it to protect their families. “better safe than sorry.” “she’ll be fine, someone will take her in, but as for us, we can’t afford to take that risk.” people can come up with all kinds of justifications for treating other people as less than human, and the really scary thing about it is how fucking easy it is

one last quick side note, which is that Horikoshi does a great job here of showing how scapegoating works, given that AFO is the one who’s really to blame and who presents the actual threat, and yet Deku is the one who ultimately winds up being the target of the mob’s fear and outrage despite him being as much of a victim as they are. gotta love that irony, which unfortunately plays out far too often in the real world as well.

anyway I’ll get off my soapbox now, sorry about that. let us continue

YES, FINALLY OH MY GOD!!!!

AND THAT’S THE STORY OF HOW GIGANTIC FOX LADY BECAME THE GREATEST HERO. PACK IT ALL UP, WE’RE DONE HERE KIDS

holy shit. the real MVP right there. thanks for getting it done champ

jesus christ I have had it up to here with these people

literally the bar is set so low at this point that I’ll go ahead and take it. helping him because it offers them a tactical advantage is at least one step up from not helping him at all

“WHY NOT SHIKETSU” MOTHERFUCKER I SWEAR TO GOD

-- thank you!!

okay this one guy with the antennae hair is having himself a character development speedrun here

-- okay, but this part?? fucking this part, right here??

can we repeat that again?? the part where this guy acknowledges that the problems of hero society were caused not just by said heroes, but also by said society?? the part where he acknowledges that they treated the heroes like celebrities who were putting on a show for them?? the part where he acknowledges that when push came to shove, the vast majority of those heroes, when faced with a situation that offered no reward, were nonetheless willing to put their lives on the line to protect the very same people who then turned around and blamed them rather than thanking them?? are the civilians of BnHA even allowed to have actual deep thoughts about this stuff. holy shit

bro!!

ANTENNAE HAIR GUY SHOVING KOUTA AND GIGANTIC FOX LADY OUT OF THE WAY TO SLAP HIS NAME ONTO THE END CREDITS AS EXECUTIVE PRODUCER. CONGRATULATIONS SON YOU FIGURED OUT THE CORE PHILOSOPHICAL QUESTION AT THE VERY HEART OF THE MANGA. WAY TO GO BUD

meanwhile, on today’s episode of “one more chapter to go till the big volume cliffhanger, how else can I drag things out let’s see”

it’s a panel. of people’s feet. just a bunch of normal feet. with sneakers and shit

this All Might shirt guy is getting more screentime in this arc than 90% of the class 1-A kids

I guess I’m supposed to feel sorry for this dude now that he’s all “if we let you stay here do you promise to somehow magically fix every single problem that we are now currently facing?” those are some ridiculously exacting standards my dude. come on now

KACCHAN SIGHTING

thank fuck I’m not the only one who’s thoroughly unimpressed by absolutely all of this lol. I feel better now. meanwhile Iida and Kouda and Kiri are ready to run over there and hug them all. you guys are way too forgiving. damn you and your pure hearts

anyway so Deku’s like “yeah, definitely”

(ETA: almost forgot to comment on the “I’m no longer alone” part – he basically corrects the guy and says “sorry, but you’ll need to direct that question towards all of us, not just me, because moving forward we’re a team.” good stuff.)

you know what though, all joking aside... fuck yeah. because perfect victory, right. the strongest guys don’t settle for anything less. so I guess Deku has pretty exacting standards himself

also can you all just take a look at this fucking kid who’s got so much light in his eyes now that I’m gonna need eclipse goggles. hot damn. “you’re welcome” says All Might Shirt Guy as he is frantically interviewed by several local news networks asking him how he daringly managed to save Deku all by himself. “well I guess I’ve just never been the kind of guy who can sit back and let a bunch of rabble-rousers blame a little kid for all of humanity’s problems. someone had to step in and take action, you know?”

oH MY GOD THE SCENE IS FINALLY ENDING

don’t let the door hit you on your way out All Might Shirt Guy

but meanwhile, sudden Tododrama action??

oh shit

there are honestly so many ways in which Ochako’s very moving speech could have wildly backfired that I genuinely have no clue where this is headed lol. how exciting!!

so now Horikoshi is once again stalling for time with random filler panels, but this one is 10x better than the shoes lol omg

(1) was Ectoplasm’s jacket always this oversized. (2) did you guys know that if you go back to chapter 319 you can see that Horikoshi gave us a sneak peak at Enji’s Sad Detective disguise and I in fact made a joke about it in the 319 recap not realizing it was actually the stone cold truth. (3) did Shouto deliberately speed up out of impatience because Hawks was walking so fucking slow and he couldn’t take it any longer. (4) and what, I ask you, is up with these dramatic speedlines. so many mysteries here. what a masterpiece

everyone is acting all shocked about something ahh what’s going on

wait what

what the heck. did they just loop around behind everyone. what was the point of that lol. “anyway, so this is what they look like from the back” well okay, thanks for that Ectoplasm

(ETA: so it seems like they were actually hanging out someplace else away from the crowd this whole time, I guess? here I thought they had more faith in Enji’s disguise. I guess Shouto and Hawks don’t particularly want to attract this crowd’s attention themselves right now either, though.)

I am so fucking confused lmao

speaking of All Might WHERE THE FUCK IS HE lol. but yes, good, OFA brings everyone together, and Hawks is very deeply moved about this out of the blue all of a sudden. you know how it is

aw heck yeah now this is another filler panel I can get behind

Mineta really wants that hug, good lord. I genuinely love this actually. Mineta if you could just stay little and cute and keep crying about how much you love your classmates in a non-gross way for the rest of the series I would be so appreciative. you’re doing great

IIDA IS HOLDING DEKU’S HAND THIS IS NOT A DRILL. ONE TIME WASN’T ENOUGH FOR MY MAN HE’S ADDICTED NOW

what did I tell you. Kiri wants to get all of the mob’s autographs now. Kiri you’re a peach

Shouji having a conversation with another mutant type is a very nice touch! we really need to get to his backstory soon. I feel like that casual remark from GFL earlier was kind of hinting at more to come

is this the first time we’ve ever seen the Yaoyorictionary in action?? never forget that Viz tried to call it the “Yaoyorozu Reference Book” because they hate fun

last but not least, KAMIBAKU IS BACK ON THE MENU, FUCK YEAH. Kaminari trying to spice things up and introduce a little bit of controversy by smacking Kacchan on the back of the head for god knows what. I will be deeply disappointed after this if I can’t find at least one person unironically declaring that KamiBaku is now toxic and abusive

lfkdlWLWK TODODRAMA??

oh my god. Shouto’s face. Enji’s face. the back to “oyaji” again. the blunt, not-taking-no-for-an-answer, “I don’t know how much louder the universe can scream at you that doing things alone is not it, so hopefully you got the point” directness of it. fffdlkslj I’m so ready for this Horikoshi please don’t fuck it up my expectations are so high

HOLY FUCK

I SCROLLED DOWN AND HE WAS ALL “( ❛‿❛)” AND I JUST WASN’T FUCKING EXPECTING THAT OKAY. JESUS CHRIST. GIVE ME A SEC

lol okay moment over and now Enji’s pulling his hat down all dramatically like a world-weary Cowboy

OH MY GOD WERE YOU FACETIMING??

AHHHHHHHHH

(ETA: not to put Iida down or anything, but it’s kind of strange that Aizawa is all “the class rep sure did great” when Ochako is the one that was giving that whole big speech for like twenty minutes just now lol.)

(ETA 2: “thank god Iida stepped in just in the nick of time to keep Mineta from hugging Deku.” sorry Mineta I really do like you lately but it’s still low-hanging fruit lol.)

HE LOOKS SO SAD??! HE LOOKS LIKE HEARTBREAK ITSELF??! I AM BESOUGHT WITH THE URGE TO REACH INTO MY SCREEN AND PULL HIM INTO THE SAFETY OF MY ARMS??? MY GOD, AND I THOUGHT DEKU NEEDED HUGS

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH okay I was gonna just hold down the letter H for a full minute and count it out loud but within about ten seconds I realized I needed to chill lol

-- but then again NO, I DON’T NEED TO CHILL, I HAVE ZERO CHILL, ACTUALLY, BECAUSE IT’S AIZAWA WITH A ROBOT LEG AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

COMPLETE WITH ROBOT TOES FOR THAT EXTRA TOUCH OF AUTHENTICITY!! I LIKE HOW HORIKOSHI PUT ALL THIS EXTRA “!!!” EMPHASIS AROUND IT IN CASE WE COULD SOMEHOW POSSIBLY FAIL TO TAKE NOTICE. “REMEMBER, EVERYONE?” SAYS HORIKOSHI HELPFULLY. “REMEMBER THAT TIME AIZAWA CHOPPED OFF HIS OWN LEG?” oh wow now that you mention it we somehow forgot all about that. like who do you take us for

OH NO NOT THE SAD BOYFRIEND ANGST THAT I WAS SECRETLY LOOKING FORWARD TO WITH GLEE

well at least he’s not M.I.A. or back with the villains again like I thought he might be. still, that’s gotta be brutal to know your friend is in there somewhere, but to not be able to reach him again no matter how hard you try. that’s the kind of angst that pays off in final battles just when you most expect it. such is my hope, at any rate

what’s this now??

trying to decide if this is Horikoshi’s way of saying don’t worry about that, or his way of saying definitely worry about that lol

anyway so Aizawa is out here being all irresponsibly handsome once again. when is someone going to do something about him

here for Sexy Robot Leg Eyepatch Aizawa clenching his fists and making speeches about revenge. pretty sure we’re all here for that

WELL, WELL, WELL

IT’S ABOUT FUCKING TIME

I’M VERY GLAD YOU’RE ALIVE AND SEEMINGLY WELL, THOUGH!

BUT WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK THOUGH, ALL MIGHT

ffff. bracing myself for that cliffhanger next week. you’d better not touch one hair on this man’s head Horikoshi. I’m watching you

#bnha 325 #midoriya izuku #u.a. clown mob #class 1-a #aizawa shouta #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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yumihoe · 3 years

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Housepet

Fandom - Kakeguri.

Pairing - Yandere Yumeko Jabami x Yandere Mary Satome x fem reader.

Summary: As a housepet pet you are required to serve your superiors.

Content warnings- Yandere themes, oral fixation, aged up characters, noncon-rape, Sexual slavery kinda, femdom, abuse of power, the reader gets slapped around/ mentions of the reader getting hurt in the past, degradation, face riding -let me know if I missed anything-mdni.

Word count -1.5k

Your neck was aching, collar heavy around it. The feeling of the leather suffocating, chaffing, and burning like a brand.

A Brand on livestock, A brand on an animal.

You aren't an animal. At least at one point, you hadn't been.

Now you were... what were you?

Yumeko says you're her favorite toy, always so sweet-so kind with her praises, even when she's bringing the belt down on your backside for the tenth time. " Such a good kitty, taking your lashes so well." But mary insist you're a dirty whore, " Why do you insist on babying the little bitch for doing what filthy whores like her are supposed to do"

Even now as Mary wraps another tie around your ankle you can't quite wrap your head around what you are.

Sharp pain from how tight the ties are rings through your wrist and makes you jerk away, earning you a hard slap to the face.

" Hold fucking still waste." Mary hisses. Yumeko jabs lightly at mary with her elbow " Why are you always so mean to her?" Yumeko sighs, rubbing at your thigh. Her voice sounds sincere, caring even but You know all too well that she's only pretending to care, pretending to scold mary for being rough with you.

" The little shit wouldn't have to get tied down if she hadn't had fucking kicked me last time." Mary snaps, yellow eyes glaring at the brunette.

You hadn't meant to kick Mary, but to be fair you had told her that you couldn't handle another orgasm, Yet she persisted, keeping the vibrator on your clit, sneering about how " little shits like you need to serve your purpose." and " If you know whats fucking good for you you'll come again." Your're tenth-or something orgasm had wrecked through your body, sending spasms and jerks- spasms and jerks that had caused your leg to launch out, smacking Mary in her nose.

You had already been punished, of course, mary had made sure to bruise your ass raw, make sure you could sit regularly for weeks, but she still insisted on tying you down before they went on with their regular routine anyways.

Yumeko busies herself unbuttoning her school blouse and stepping out of her skirt

It's not right, twisted how stunning Yumeko's Body is.

Sick people who keep other human beings tied down in empty classrooms shouldn't be allowed to so....beautiful. Sharp collarbone above perfectly round breast that melt into a sharply defined waist. No matter how much you despised Yumeko Jabami you would never be able to call her ugly. And the fact sickened you.

" Aw, you're drooling, am I that pretty kitten," Yumeko giggles, leaning down to smooth your hair back. " Does my good little kitty want something to plug up that sweet little mouth?"

Your stomach tightens knowing exactly what it is she's hinting at. "Open wide for me kitty." Yumeko coos, pushing two of her digits inside your mouth. You know better than to bite down on her fingers, the first and last time you had, mary broke one of yours, and you hadn't been able to bend it correctly for months. So you let the long, slender digits slide past your lips and suck, to avoid punishment.

Mary snorts as she fastens the last tie on your ankle, sitting up. "Ts really fucking gross how you stick your fingers in the little shits mouth like that, how the fuck do you get off on that?" She sneers Yumeko just smiles, pushing her fingers deeper into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat triggering your gag reflex. "If that little fuckface pukes, I swear to fucking god I'll kill you Yumeko." Mary frowns

" 'Sides, there are better ways to put her mouth to use anyways," she mumbles. Yumeko lets out a boisterous laugh " If you wanted a turn with kitty's mouth, all you needed was to say so." Mary doesn't answer, instead motions for Yumeko to take her fingers out of your mouth, to which Yumeko obliges with a sad whimper, letting her now slimy digits drop from your mouth.

"Now, you'll put that whinny little mouth to good use," Mary smirks, positioning herself to hover over your face. You start up your usual protest, about how you don't want her to ride your face, that you'd rather just eat her out on your stomach to avoid her suffocating you, but your pleading is in vain, Mary lets her legs give out anyway, pushing her cunt directly onto your mouth.

You almost panic at the sudden loss of air, but you know better to try and struggle against her, it only ever results in some form of physical assault. And it's not like you could push her off of you, in your current state. So you let your tongue loll out of your mouth to take a swipe at her folds.

" Aww, you're being so good kitten, you deserve an award." Yumeko sings.

" She's not-Fuck- Not being fucking good, the little fucking shit's just doing what housepets are supposed to do." Mary whimpers out, thighs quivering around your head.

Houspet.

Hearing Her say the word- the title is almost foreign since they often call you anything but. Kitten, Toy, Little shit, but still it's a reminder of what you are now. No longer human, and below any animal. A Housepet. A failed gambler.

It all comes pouring back to you like rain, everything you had been, what you were before.

Master gambler, Highroller extraordinaire. You had been on top of the world, winning game after game and match after match, well on your way to becoming an esteemed member of the student body council. Maybe even president of the student body council until-Until you had lost.

It had all happened so fast, you were so certain- still certain that you should've won that game, that it had been rigged and you deserved a rematch - a recount, anything- yet your cries of foul-play had fallen on death ears. Your status as a high-ranking gambler had been revoked, replaced with that of a disgusting, low-ranking rat.

The transition had been slow, yet persistent. The looks of fear and admiration people once gazed at you with turned to disgust and superiority. Where once people had flocked to be around you they had started to avoid you like the plague.

The last and final declaration of your dehumanization had come in the form of a notice from the student council, a notice stating that if you couldn't repay your debt from losing, you would be demoted to the lowest student ranking at Hyakkaou Private Academy. You had begged, on your knees almost for a second chance, but the president had refused, issuing you a collar.

Yumeko and Mary had cornered you a few days after that, forced you to become their personal little plaything.

"No point in resisting, shitty little housepets like you go missing all the time, no one would look for you." Mary had whispered

Yumeko jerking your thighs further apart pulls you out of your moment of self-realization.

"You're doing so well for Mary kitten, I just can't help but reward you." she beams.

Yumeko's rewards always leave you overstimulated and crying, so you don't feel any relief at the mention of receiving one. Still despite how you tense up, clearly uncomfortable with her rewarding you, Yumeko slots herself between your legs, flicking a vibrator on and pressing it against your clit. The sudden sensation causing your hips to buck up, much to the distaste of Mary.

" Be fucking still" the blonde hisses, " Just fucked up my c-climax."

You don't bother to object or tell mary that Yumeko's the reason you moved so suddenly, you know she won't care either way. "s' fucking close" Mary whimpers grinding down against your tongue harder. Her hips stutter, once, twice, before she's shaking, squirting all over your face. You want to gag, cry out, push her off you, but you know you can't, so you let her ride the rest of her orgasm off on your face, sticky, sweaty thighs clamped around your head.

Mary finishes after what seems like forever, standing up on quivering legs, looking around for her clothes.

" Were gonna be fucking late for our next class, fucking c'mon Yumeko" She sighs.

Yumeko pouts from between your legs, two fingers buried in your swollen cunt. "But I didn't get to finish kittens reward, she's been so good we can't just leave her all pent up like this."

you can almost hear Mary roll her eyes." If I have to fucking drag you outta here by your fucking hair Yume-

"Fine, Fine" Yumeko stands up, cutting her off. She slowly reassembles her uniform, grumbling almost like a child who just had a toy ripped away from her.

"Sides you can come back and finish the little shit off after school" Mary shouts, already halfway out of the door. Yumeko smiles down out you, winking before following her friend into the hall.

Long after they've left you find yourself sobbing, wishing they had untied you before going back to class.

A sick feeling rises in your stomach as you realize you're not crying about being tied up because the position you're in is uncomfortable or even because you might have been able to find a way out if they had let you free of the ties.

You're crying because You wished they had let you go before leaving so you could stuff a finger into your aching cunt.

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I really want Yumeko and mary to bully me. 😪

Anyways, as usual, if you enjoyed this don't be afraid to reblog!

#yandere yumeko #mary satome #yandere mary #yandere kakeguri yan #yandere x reader #femyandere #kakeguri mary #tw: noncon #tw:sexual slavery #kakeguri x reader #mary satome x reader #yumihoewrites #tw: degradation

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bigteefsmallbrain · 3 years

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Soul Eater: General headcanons - Adults

@zorgammazoo you didn’t specify which adults so I did Stein, Spirit, Blair, Medusa, and Death! I hope you enjoy it!

Warning, Stein is a freaky child with corpses in this, and is not mentally sound.

Franken Stein:

When he was younger, he used to play with animal corpses

Probably started with him finding a dead rat and he decided to stick toothpicks into it

Maybe something crawled out of it, maybe he just liked watching coagulated blood squish out of it’s bloated body

Either way, this was the seed to his fascination with experimentation

He was a A+ student, not because he’s a try hard, but because the teachers would excuse his odd behavior because of it

He liked studying advanced science and medical procedures

Probably took a lot of night classes and didn’t sleep a lot, which clouded his judgement

Hence his insane persona

He’s a grade A doctor, certified, but lost his license on day one

Probably forgot he was trying to SAVE the patent, and ended up blending their organs like a smoothie and trying to bring them back to life, just to see what would happen

He has extremely fluffy pillows

He can twist and turn those cogs all he wants, they hurt when lying down

He needs pillows that are 12 inches thick at LEAST to be able to sleep comfortably

If he does sleep that is

It’s a rare occasion when he does

He actually misses Spirit, not for his experimentation, but his company

Spirit was probably the first one to actually put up with him and his creepy behavior

So losing him was a new experience

And kind of hurt

This was probably the point where he gained some semblance of mind

Was a bit more open to kindness and care

Spirit Albarn:

You mean Tamaki Suoh if he was a horrible flirt?

I said what I said

And I stand by it

He’s Tamaki Suoh in a different font

Dumb, obsessed with his daughter, womanizer

Boxes checked, he fits the bill

He definitely fell in love at first sight

Not necessarily with Maka’s mom, though he did with her too

But I mean with every woman he has ever liked

He’d see them, and bam, in love

Probably got slapped a lot for randomly proclaiming his love to strangers

When he met Stein, it probably started out with him being romantically interested

LOOK ME IN THE EYE AND TELL ME SPIRIT ALBARN IS STRAIGHT, YOU CAN’T

As time went on Spirit probably started seeing Stein as more of a friend than a partner

Probably still cares about Stein, despite the fear he feels towards him

He also frequently writes to Maka’s mother

Has probably gone on trips to find her so he can properly apologize

He tries to ignore the guilt when he’s around other women

Mostly because he can only see Maka’s mother when he looks at them, and it physically hurts his heart

He’s ready to literally toss his life away for his daughter

He cares so very deeply for her

And supports her no matter what

He would willingly die protecting her

Whatever she asks of him, he would do without question

That probably includes murder under certain circumstances (i.e. a boy breaks her heart)

Blair:

She doesn’t know what's inappropriate or not

I mean literally

She’s a cat, she doesn’t know that giving a little kid lingerie is bad

Nor does she know what pedophilia is

Concepts like consent and adultery were never taught to her, so she really just doesn’t know

Literally doesn’t know what she’s doing, just likes seeing the funny faces people pull when she does things

She doesn’t purposefully flash anyone

She just thinks their reactions are hilarious

So she keeps doing it

She elongates slightly when someone picks her up

Her back just stretches with her body

You have to pick her up a few extra inches

She also actively keeps her feet on the ground for as long as possible when someone does this

She only takes bubble baths

Strictly because they smell good

And it’s fun to play with the bubbles

Doesn’t know how to read

She knows maybe a few words

But other than that, she can’t read

Medusa Gorgon:

Oh how time has made her bitter

She is, 800+ years old, and has seen sh*t splatter the walls

And people wonder why she turned out the way she did

She’s had to see lives come and go

Lovers promise to stay, only to fade

I can see why she would be bitter and such

Was probably a very kind woman in the beginning

The type to comfort you when you cried

Help you win your ex back

Just in general be so sweet and caring

Like how she acted when she was nurse at the DWMA, but like, that was her genuine self

Her bitterness probably started to fester when her friends and lover started dying for the first time

But she wasn’t

She wasn’t aging

Her lover had grown white hair and wrinkles

Her friends turned old and grey

She probably tried to save them, but ended up failing

And she tried again and again

Eventually giving up, isolating herself, going insane, seeing life as feeble and useless

She probably saw a part of her past lovers in Stein, hence her “Love” for him

But it was more of her pushing the image of a past lover onto him, romanticizing it a bit

She could have possibly thought he was a reincarnation

Honestly, all those years could have made her delusional too and she could have thought it was actually them

Death:

He’s a good father, really, but probably accidentally influenced his son’s betrayal and other son’s perfectionist views with his want for a perfect world

The idea of a perfect world filled with peace was probably because he wanted to let his sons live in a world full of peace

Though his first son probably thought he was standing in his fathers shadow and let rage consume him

And his second son took it a bit too seriously, and became a perfectionist in hopes of pleasing his father

He’s exceptionally good with kids

Time will do that to you

He uses a high pitched voice and friendly outward appearance to put others at ease

Has probably babysat children for the staff members before

Unlike Medusa, 800+ years turned him wise, and made him treasure human life

Hence his want for peace and a perfect world

He already knew he was different, and so any bonds he made with mortals, he treasured

He’s actually very emotional when thinking of his friends, weapons, and possibly lovers

Has been known to sob during these times

Has a few paintings/photos of all the people he’s made emotional bonds too

He also cries when watching the students grow up, especially his second son

And cries when thinking about his first son

Wants to live without regrets, but mulls over his first son

Constantly thinks about what he could have done wrong

If there were any signs he should have seen

If there was a chance to save him from the darkness

Definitely has thought about what it would be like if his first son remained by his side, and how amazing of an older brother he would make

Has fantasized about having his family all together

About living in that perfect world with his sons

About how happy they would be

How happy he would be to watch them grow

To watch them love

Be there when they’re sad

And support them through everything

I’m not crying, I swear-

I hope you like these General Soul Eater Headcanons for the adults! You never said which adults in specific, so I went with these guys! Thank you for the ask!

#soul eater #anime headcanons #headcanon #general headcanon #franken stein #spirit albarn #blair #medusa gorgon #lord death

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fnf-brain-rot · 3 years

Text

[Whitty x Boyfriend]

Chapter 5 - Let's just chill!

Boyfriend awoke with a bit of an issue in the.. south region..

He groaned, putting a hand on his head before sitting up. It hurt too. He was about to handle it when he felt a presence to the side of him.

Whitty was just standing there..

Staring..

The blue haired male screamed and threw himself off the other side of the bed, which only made Whitty blink and lean over to look. "Sorry I startled you." He called to him. Boyfriend could only see the swirls in his vision. He eventually got up, pulling himself back onto his bed, also bringing his comforter back up as well. "Whitty, how long have you been standing there?"

"Mmh... Most of the night."

"Wh-MOST-"

Boyfriend threw his hands up in exasperation. "Did you SLEEP??" In response to his question, Whitty shook his head. "I told you I don't really need to." Boyfriend grimaced in his direction, making a small sound of discomfort to himself, then sighed heavily. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I thought you were having a nightmare." Whitty admitted softly. Boyfriend's cheeks began to heat up as he spoke. "It sounded like you were calling my name.. Was I.. doing something bad to you?" Whitty seemed hesitant to ask, gently pulling on the large shirt he was given.

"No no no! You didn't do anything bad! I uh.. It was uh.." Boyfriend bit his knuckle. Well he certainly couldn't say what was actually happening, but he was such a bad liar. "It was a recap of our day out.. yesterday!" He blurted out. Whitty blinked. He did something bad yesterday. Bee says it wasn't directed towards him, but he was still weary of him thinking about it. "How about you go wait in the living room? I'll make us some breakfast, yeah?" Boyfriend offered, and Whitty nodded, turning around to leave the room, of course, obliviously leaving the door open. Boyfriend let out a gentle sigh and got up to close it, then deal with his issue. Shouldn't take too long..

___________________________________________

Whitty sat down on the couch, nervously fiddling with his fingers as he stared at the blank tv. He couldn't have left a bad impression right? Of course not, if he didn't like him, he certainly wouldn't invite him over, and cuddle with him. Cuddling.. was nice. It would be nice to do that right now. He decided to figure out the tv, picking up the remote and mashing a random button. He pressed damn there every button on the device before actually getting to the power button, and he couldn't help but jump when he heard the tv turn on.

He wasn't sure if he was ready to meet Dearest's daughter today. At least it was only her, and from what he knew, she knew nothing about him other than when they first met. Does she even know she's meeting the same guy? She looked pretty scared of him. Whitty squirmed in discomfort at the thought. What if she knew about him and her dad? What if she didn't like him? What if she rats him out? His head swirled with worst case scenarios, and he couldn't help but stress about it. Boyfriend exited his room about five minutes later. Whitty could hear the bare feet slap against the wooden hallway floor. "Whitty? Whitty, what's wrong?" The blue haired male rushed to the couch. Whitty hadn't realized he had started crying, clutching his head in his hands like he felt a pain too great to bare.

Boyfriend hopped onto the furniture beside him, gently hugging his head against his chest. "I'm sorry, did I upset you? I promise you didn't do anything bad." He mumbled softly. Whitty shook his head. "I'm just.. nervous." Boyfriend parted a bit, looking down at the bomb with a slightly confused expression. "Nervous? About what?"

"Meeting her."

Boyfriend understood. She did talk about how scary and dangerous he seemed. He didn't exactly specify that it was Whitty he was talking to. There is a chance she could freak out when she sees him. Maybe Boyfriend hadn't thought this all the way through..

"How about we eat breakfast? It's hard to think on an empty stomach." He hugged onto Whitty again, gently rubbing his back. Whitty quickly began to relax. No one had ever done this with him before, and it was really affective. He really liked it. "Can we do that thing first? The cuddle?" Whitty asked softly, and Boyfriend grinned. "Of course we can, Whits." He got down, then climbed into Whitty's lap, but he faced him this time, wiping away his tears, just like he did under the tree. Whitty couldn't help but smile a little, wrapping his arms around Boyfriend in a slightly tighter squeeze than the first time. He felt warm..

___________________________________________

Boyfriend had decided to make waffles, oatmeal, grits, scrambled eggs, fried eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns, anything he could honestly find in his kitchen to make a big enough meal for someone who eats so much so fast. He himself was contempt with eating two waffles and some eggs, while Whitty, of course, ate everything else. "Dude, where does it all go?" Bee then asked, receiving a simple "hm?" from Whitty across from him. "Like.. You eat so much, but it's like it literally melts right off of you." Whitty shrugged. "It kinda does.. I digest food faster than normal humans." He explained softly. He picked up his dirty dishes and put them in the sink, with instruction, and did the same with Boyfriend's dishware. "Aww you don't have to clean up after us every time." Boyfriend laughed, sitting up and stretching before standing out of his seat. "I like to. I like to think it shows.. my appreciation for you feeding me." Whitty responded in a soft tone. Of course he didn't really know how to DO dishes, just put them in the sink. Boyfriend would deal with that pile later.

"Come on, let's get ready to go. I have a whole day planned for us." Boyfriend bounced on his toes before rushing back to his room to change. Whitty sighed softly. He didn't know how to use the dryer..

Boyfriend was quick to throw on his usual baggy jeans, white shirt, and his cap. He could barely contain his excitement, he was running back and forth in the hall, of course grabbing his mic and pocketing it for good measure. Whitty had crouched down in front of the dryer, staring intensely at it. "My clothes are trapped." He whined softly. Boyfriend came out from behind him, and couldn't help but laugh. "This is the handle to pull it open." He pulled it, and Whitty let out a sound of relief. His clothes were free!!

___________________________________________

"I'm gonna miss this carpet."

"We're gonna come back dummy."

Whitty blinked. He hadn't thought of returning to his house, he thought he was only letting him stay one night..

Boyfriend was sneaky in managing to get him to stay. He secretly applauded himself. He then smiled up at Whitty, gently grabbing his hand. "Let's get going!"

He decided to take Whitty to all his favorite spots. There was a burger joint he and Pico occasionally hung out at, and Whitty was totally down to eat again, so they went.

"Yeah, all the good stuff happens at night, so that's when we go see Gigi." Boyfriend explained with his mouth full, and Whitty nodded to show he was listening. "Oh crap, I forgot! I'm battling her mom tonight! I don't really know where though, they were gonna come pick me up." Boyfriend put a hand on his head and threw it back in distress. "Does this mean I won't meet.. Gigi?" Whitty questioned him. Boyfriend shook his head. "I guess we'll just have to wait until after. Her mom is sneaky as hell, who knows where she is at any time." He shuddered. That lady genuinely scares him.

Next up was the mall.

Whitty was hesitant to go into such a crowded area, but Boyfriend led him through the door in the back way. There were way less people coming through there, so he wouldn't have to worry about being spotted. As they entered, though, Whitty got this weird feeling.. Like they were being watched. He looked around the clothing section they were in. It was quiet back there too, save for the gentle music playing from the speakers in the ceiling. "Ooh! We should shop clothes for you!" Boyfriend then suggested. "But.. I won't be able to carry them with me everywhere.." Whitty objected, holding his hands up nervously. "You won't carry them everywhere. They'll be at my place." Boyfriend pointed his thumb at his own chest proudly.

He really did trick him into moving in, didn't he?

"The only money I get is from the collabs I've been doing so far, so until I get rich and famous, you can get one more outfit and a pair of shoes." Whitty hummed uncomfortably. Now he was taking more money from him, great. "Hey, I'm offering. Now go pick out what you like." Boyfriend smacked Whitty's leg at the knee cap gently, and Whitty quickly held it, puffing his cheeks. "Fineeee, I'll go pick out something.." He huffed reluctantly, but proceeded to look at some shirts and pants and such.

___________________________________________

The two walked out of the mall with one bag, and Boyfriend was holding a box, which had his new shoes in it. "Thanks.. for getting me new clothes. I'm sorry to spend your money." Whitty mumbled shamefully, and Boyfriend huffed at him. "I told you, I don't mind. I want you to be comfortable since it's obvious you've never relaxed a day in your life." Bee grunted in response, nudging his leg as they walked. Whitty laughed nervously, looking behind them. He swore up and down he felt like someone was following them..

"Where to next?" Boyfriend thought out loud, mostly to himself. It was already one in the afternoon, they only had about three hours left until they were coming to pick him up. They decided to go back to the house. Whitty felt uncomfortable being out in the open for so long. "You're sure you didn't tell anyone you were talking to me?" The bomb asked, taking his shoes off inside the house. "Yes, Whitty. I haven't mentioned your name to anyone. If anything I addressed you as 'the guy I battled last week' to Pico. Why?" Whitty shook his head, stepping onto the carpet, then relaxing all over again. It was just so soft-

"Whitty?" Boyfriend turned to look at him. Whitty sighed under his breath, then sat up. "I.. felt like someone was following us. All day. It just feels ironic that I'm supposedly meeting someone-a friend of yours-today." He muttered. Boyfriend stared at him for a moment. "You don't think.. You're not thinking I set you up, are you?" He asked hesitantly, putting a hand to his own chest. Whitty didn't answer right away. He curled up into a ball in his spot, the possibilities beginning to race through his mind all over again. Suddenly he didn't feel as safe as he wanted to. Suddenly he couldn't trust Boyfriend as much as he wanted to. Bee could see him breaking down into an anxious wreck, staring intently at one spot on the floor.

He was a little hurt, yes, but this guy had so many people out for him, it wasn't even funny. He couldn't be mad at him for being cautious. That's why he's still alive today. "Whitty.." Boyfriend approached him, and his heart broke when he saw how Whitty coiled away a bit. He didn't stop though. He crouched down, putting a hand on his head. Whitty slowly looked up at him, his black, inky tears trailing down his cheeks once again today. "When I told you I would be there for you, I meant it." He told him. "I wouldn't throw you in the gutter. Remember that? I would never set up my friend. If you don't feel safe going outside, you can stay in here, okay?" Boyfriend gently leaned forward, placing a kiss on his forehead.

Whitty had no idea what that was, but he liked how it felt. It was like his worries melted away with the feeling. Like he was.. safe. He took a breath, then nodded at Boyfriend's words. "Wait.. do that again?" Whitty's eyes held a less somber expression, and he gently held onto Boyfriend's head. This caused him to blush heavily. Whitty could feel his face heating in his hands. "W-What? A-A kiss?" Boyfriend was a little surprised as Whitty nodded. He tried to calm his heart beat. He could feel it beating out of his chest, so hard he would have thought he was having a heart attack. He leaned down and gave Whitty another peck on the forehead, and the taller couldn't help but close his eyes at the warmth it gave him.

"Thank you, BB." Whitty responded softly, letting his face go, then standing back up. "Y-Y-Yeah! N-No p-problem!" Boyfriend's hands were shaking, and he was laughing awkwardly. His face was so red, and Whitty remembered what that meant. He smiled, then picked Boyfriend up, a high pitched "beep!" coming from him. "Whitty!!" He exclaimed nervously, hiding his face in his hands. Whitty tilted his head. That must be an even more positive reaction! He sat down on the couch, still holding Bee in his arms. He was determined they would cuddle until Girlfriend came to get him.

___________________________________________

Boyfriend jolted awake to Whitty staring down at him. Again. He yelped out, but quickly exhaled, putting a hand on his own chest. "You don't wanna be late for your battle." Whitty noted softly. He was still holding Boyfriend. No wonder he fell asleep so fast. He sat up, and Whitty allowed him to, setting him on the floor in front of the couch. Boyfriend stretched his arms up, groaning at the good stretch. "Thanks Whits.." He mumbled softly, his face quickly beginning to redden again just by looking at him. "I'll protect the house while you're gone, don't worry." Whitty told him, and Bee laughed. "I'm sure you will." He made his way over to the door, slipping his shoes back on. "You sure you'll be okay?" He turned around, and watched as Whitty curled up on the couch. He nodded in response, turning the tv on. Bee smiled, then made his way out.

Whitty really wanted to see Boyfriend's little rap battle, to of course be emotional support, but he couldn't be seen. It sucked. He felt lonely all over again, sitting in the living room, sitting on a small couch in front of a tv playing something he wasn't interested in, and he had no knowledge of how to change the channel. He hugged his knees to his chest, puffing one of his cheeks in thought. Boyfriend seemed to genuinely care for him. He.. really did care for him.. Hopefully his friends are similar to that. Even if they weren't, Boyfriend was enough for him. He was all he needed..

___________________________________________

Whitty looked away from the cats on the screen about an hour later to the sound of the front door opening. His insides fluttered, like.. weirdly. He put a hand on his chest as the door opened, and Boyfriend walked in, talking to someone and laughing. He turned to look at Whitty, then winked. "Gigi, here's the guy I wanted you to meet!" Girlfriend walked past him, and looked directly into Whitty's eyes. They stared at each other for a moment, and Whitty began to sweat nervously. "H.. Hi-"

"I'm very sorry!"

Whitty's eyes widened, and his cheeks began to glow orange. "I also participated in pushing you to that point, and I wanted to apologise for doing that." She took her shoes off, making her way into the living room. Whitty and Boyfriend let out a breath of relief, the latter quickly following after her. "I-It's okay.. really.. it happens.." Whitty stammered awkwardly, shrinking against the couch as she smiled up at him.

"I'm Girlfriend, but just call me Gigi. I hope we can get to know each other better. And don't worry, I'll keep you a secret from my parents." Whitty's eyes brightened as she spoke those words. She seemed kind already. "See!! I told you it would go well!" Boyfriend hugged Girlfriend from behind, making her giggle. "Yeah.." Whitty mumbled to himself.

Maybe it won't be that bad making friends..

#fnfboyfriend #whitty #friday night funkin #fnf whitty #fnfwhitmore #whitty x bf #bf x whitty

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powerosewaterpuff · 4 years

Text

so i was having mary and john grayson feels bc i always do ofc, and i decided well if i can’t find any other fics and headcanonns? imma make them myself hehe soo enjoy ! (heads up tho, it’s a l o t hehe)

Mary Grayson

-cannot cook, she is absolutely a w f u l at it but oh my god she loves watching john cook. she even follows him around, writing in a little journal about all the different recipes and steps, bc she is d e t e r m i n d to be able to make something other then cereal

-she always lets dick attempt to braid her hair, and even though it might come out looking bumpy and uneven, she couldn’t care less bc the smile on her sons face is priceless

- loves the summer, basking in the sun on a wide beach is her ideal happy place, because the winter reminds her a little too much of memories she wishes she could suppress

-she always sticks her tongue out just a bit when she’s focused on something, john still blushes when he sees that

-isn’t an avid reader, but she could watch johns facial expressions as he rereads the same twist in his favourite novel for the rest of her life

-she has a small array of ear piercings, which include three piercings on each lobe and upper lobe (the first she had received when she was a baby, and it had been her grandmothers idea), then she has a helix hoop piercing on each ear with a little stud underneath the hoop of the right ear. (Dick loves them, and always had a habit of fiddling with them even as a baby.)

-her laugh could be described as, (as courtesy of john grayson), “the sound of wind chimes billowing against the breeze, and then she starts snortin—Hey! It’s the truth, what do you want me to lie, mary?”

-dick most definitely inherited her eyelashes, long, dark and curled. she also tends to argue that he got her humour too, but john adamantly defends his honour as, “the most hilarious human being to walk the earth, and dick most definitely got my sense of humour, e x c u s e you, mariam.”

-she is infinitely glad that her and john have a very equal parenting system, without one person needing to be the primary disciplinarian as they work as a united front. (except when john and dick come inside the trailer, dragging in mounds of dirt from a flimsy soccer game. then? shes usually the disciplinary one then, shooing them to go take a shower and telling them that they needed to make sure every i n c h of dirt is out of the trailer before she’s done her afternoon stretches.)

-she’s a very bold and opinionated person, but stubbornly independent with a strong moral system and a fierce temper. she isn’t accustomed to asking for help, and is always expecting to be disappointed or let down. she’s always waiting for the catch to come into play, with john though? it never did

-the second dick gives her his puppy dog eyes, it’s over. she’ll give up the cookies she’s hidden in the top shelf, she’ll give him the biggest hug, she’ll practically do anything, and mary thinks john is the exact same.

-her gut instincts are scarily right, to the point where her best friend, the magicians assistant, is convinced she’s a psychic of some sort.

- the day she met john, she had heard about a young circus boy about her age coming to live with his great aunt in her neighborhood, but hadn’t really paid it any mind.

-it wasn’t until one neighbourhood party, that she locked eyes with a pair of vibrant blue eyes with a deeply rooted fire within them. it gave her a shock of adrenaline, and excitement, the same thing she felt when she was about to go on stage as a ballerina or about to face the uneven bars as a gymnast. it wasn’t a nervous bout of a adrenaline, it was a calming rush, one that filled her bones with a thrill beyond all compare. (Little did she know, the second john had locked eyes with a pair of lively green eyes, he had found what he was looking for.)

- mary was a natural born contortionist, with a flexibility she acquired from years of ballet as well as gymnastics. learning how to work the trapeze was a whole other thing though, as it was a little odd to adjust at first. she loved johns freedom and wild nature while soaring through the air though, a lot more then she loved the rigidness of her own form. (john disagreed vehemently, the way mary moved was like she was one with the air and the air was one with her, and he admits that was she an incredibly quick learner.)

-will always watch cartoons with dick, whether it be The Simpsons one evening or Tom & Jeremy the next.

-johns singing is her favourite thing ever, she always begs him to sing her to sleep and some nights, when john feels a deep rooted knot tug at his chest, mary is sweetly singing, “here comes the sun,” by the beatles in his ear

-her and johns go to song to get dick to sleep is, “little bird, little bird,” by elizabeth mitchell. she always changes the last bird, a whip-poor-well, to a robin bird. it’s a little offbeat but she thinks dick likes it. (dick loves it.)

-has an unparalleled amount of energy, and is always bursting with exuberance, the only one who can really challenge her on that is dick. both of them are absolute adrenaline junkies.

-has an insatiable love for period dramas, it is her absolutely guilty pleasure and will be found watching tapes of her favourite show in the living room at like 3am

-she loves the smell of burning wood and loves sitting outside of summer nights, taking in the sounds of the cicadas and the cold breeze.

-she is absolutely exasperated with her sons ability to make friends with injured woodland animals, it was adorable and absolutely darling to an extent, but oh my god if she had to handle one more skunk with a broken leg or a fox with its leg stuck to a wooden post, she would consider barricading the circus.

-(she loves buying matching clothing for her family and her, but what she loves the most is dressing john and dick up to match, she has a whole box filled with those pictures, which would be perfect blackmail material once dick was in his teens.)

John Grayson

-is one of the most laid back human beings, he always has a lazy smile and gentle mischief twinkling in his eyes. (but fuck with his family and see what happens, he dares you.)

-his eyes are practically identical to dicks, in every shape, way and form. but dicks have an unstoppable light in them, that his just don’t have but he’s so happy they do.

-loves to overspray his cologne just to irritate mary, her scrunched up nose his absolutely adorable. (but he still couldn’t get why she didn’t like that cologne, it was fucking amazing)

-curses like an absolute sailor, and mary isn’t any better but she’s far better at censoring herself. john has had to slap a hand around his mouth a few times to avoid having to explain the word, “shit,” to dick.

-christmas is his favourite time of the year without a doubt, and loves to be curled up on his worn couch with a novel in hand in front for a fire.

-is an avid prankster, but if you confront him about it, he’ll give you a trademarked Grayson smile, and tilt his head to the side questioningly.

-his laugh is like (as courtesy of mary grayson), “a crash of waves, refreshing and loud with a distinct clarity, and then he starts to w h e e z—Hey! it’s the truth! I thought you were against lying, huh?”

-he’s ticklish, and his brother along with his wife and son take advantage of that way too much.

-dick is legit attached to this mans hip 24/7, like if you see john strolling around the circus there is a 94% chance that dick is either riding on his shoulders or settled comfortably on his hip.

-the day he met mary, he had felt a little out of place and stilted at this neighbourhood party. but he sucked it in bc anything was better then going back to his home, so he took a shaky breathe and tried to converse with his great aunts friends, until the music started and he locked eyes with a pair of lively green eyes, and he had found exactly what he was a looking for. a fleeting purpose that could so easily slip between his finger tips but the thrill to latch onto it was expanding in his chest. and he realized that if he didn’t march right on over there and talk to this girl, he would’ve lost something he didn’t even knew he could lose.

- playing guitar had always been a little bit of a therapeutic thing, because even though he tried to be practicing their act every single minute of his day, there were times where he needed to sit under a tree with his son curled in his lap, his leather jacket draped on him. the love of his life and the afterlife curled up next to him, with his blistered fingers from dealing with ropes all day strumming the guitar.

-the biggest elvis presley, beatles and rat pack fan in the world. he also loves louis armstrong as well as nat king cole. (he grew up with this music as his first big introduction to north american music as well as culture.)

-open communication and emotions are a big thing for him, he never wants anything to be misinterpreted and he tries his hardest to make sure neither him nor mary ever go to sleep angry with one another. they argue a decent amount, bc they both have wild tempers (johns is a flame that’s difficult to light but once it does he’ll have a vicious tongue of a temper, and mary’s is a quick lighter that can be easily put out but for the time that it burns holy shit she’s scary,) but they always work things out by talking to one another at the dinner table.

-this man lives and breathes sarcasm, to the point where people never really know if he’s being sarcastic or not (mary does, and it annoys him to no end.)

-always playing with his hair, or he’s playing with mary’s or dick’s. it’s become a little of a nervous habit for him, but also a way to relax.

-was always insecure about how short and scrawny he was as a kid, even now once he’s filled into pure muscle and but still a little short compared to others. however, he uses his body to his advtange though, he can easily be the strong man of the act, and can easily balance both dick and mary with one hand. he’s immensely proud of that, and shows it off as much as he can.

-just to annoy mary, he’ll slowly lift his son up and they’ll give the exact same puppy dog eyes and pout. mary will legit do anything they want (he wasn’t ready for mary to come in one day, blinking her beautiful green eyes and pouting, with dick settled on her hip doing the exact same thing as they ask for chocolate pancakes one morning. it’s fair to say he sprinted out of bed and straight to the kitchen.)

-despises hunting for sport and guns, his father owned an array of hunting guns that were always proudly polished and hung on the walls of their trailer. john fucking hated it, and was about to blow a fuse when one of the circus members decided to take dick on a hunting trip without asking. (he held dick close that night as he cried bc he didn’t understand why they had shot the deer when it looked so happy.)

-is the absolutle biggest crybaby when it comes to Heidi (the book) and has rewatched Kiki’s Delivery Service with dick like 30 times? he cries every time ( “mARY SHES SO SAD OH MY GOD AND SHE DOESNT UNDERSTAND J I J I ANYMOREEEE.”) (“sEE GRANDFATHER DOES CARE AND THE SYMBOLISM MARY THE SYMBOLISM.”)

-loves looking up at the stars, and liked to memorize their names as well as patterns as a kid. he was overjoyed to share this with dick, as they lay down on the roof of their circus caravan, point out constellations and tell their stories (dick would always perch himself on the tallest skyscraper in gotham, on a clear summer evening, just to get a one glance at the stars at again before the smog rolls in. he swears he saw cassiopeia once, but maybe he was just wishing he did. )

-is equally stressed by dick’s unprecedented love of making friends with the most random things, is also stressed because his son is this tiny kid who keeps getting himself stuck in bushes then runs home, covered in thorns but still has the biggest smile. john is usually on first aid duty, and he just knows that his kid would run into the sun exploding with a bright smile plastered on his face.

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theharellan · 4 years

Text

To Feel Another’s Woe

Set in early Inquisition, in the heart of the Mage-Templar War. Featuring Thora Cadash from @ourdawncomes. Content warning for gore, descriptions of battle, and mild illness.

Now available to read on AO3!

He counts the battle in heartbeats. Every rush of blood through his veins is another spell from his fingertips, every sixty seconds counted it another sixty seconds survived. Minutes count more in this Veilless world, where the tide may turn in an instant.

Everything is different, even war.

Bowstrings slap the air, signalling a fresh volley of arrows. “Shield yourselves!” the Seeker cries. Solas blinks to Varric, stopping short of his shadow to draw a barrier over them both. His magic resists his dwarven companion, drawing more mana from his fingers before the spell completes, and with little time to spare. Arrows skirt by them, falling harmlessly to the earth, cutting only magic upon their descent. Varric wastes no words thanking him, vanishing in a cloud of smoke to retreat to a safer distance.

Tangled in the midst of half a dozen Templars, their Herald draws every last eye on the battlefield to her. Every blow is preceded by a shout, often followed by another torn from their enemies’ throats. Swords point towards her back, posed to pierce the gaps in her armour. Their wielders hesitate to join the fray, uneven grips a telltale mark of fresh recruits, but they will not wait forever. He seizes upon the moment, hand gripping his staff and grinding it into the dirt, its focus drawing his intent into the world. A thin orange line burns in the grass, smoke heralds flame which bursts to life at Thora’s heel, a harsh curtain drawn between her and half her enemies.

She does not flinch, nor shrink from the flame. Solas watches as her leg hooks around a rogue Templar’s ankle and trips him. He falls headfirst into the fire, inhuman shrieks silenced by a killing blow to the head. As she lifts her hammer from the bloody pulp of a skull, another soldier lunges. Solas slams his staff against the earth, calling winter to a warm August day. Ice crawls up his target’s leg, erupting from the damp grass stamped down by war. In an instant it claims him, sword aimed at their Herald’s heart now suspended harmlessly in ice. Cassandra arrives, blade red with archers’ blood, and slams the tapered end of her shield against a weakness in the ice. It shatters, the boy’s body falling limp in the grass, joining his fellows.

The hairs along the nape of his neck stand on end, an uneasy premonition answered by an unseen force reaching across the Veil. It parts the fire, reducing it to a ribbon of smoke that coils in blue Fereldan skies, and through the ashes steps a Templar, his shield held aloft. Spells glance off him, rolling ineffectively over his armour. Thora’s hammer fares better, shield straining against its face as they come crashing together. Sparks fly from where their edges scrape together, forcing his guard down for an instant. Long enough for the Herald to find her advantage.

She strikes her with the heel of her hammer and he staggers, stumbling forward with the grace of a drunkard on his sixth tankard of ale. “Now, Solas!” she shouts. He stops, stares. There are only seconds to discern her meaning, no wisdom floats to him from across the Fade to deliver her meaning. Visions of a war long since finished return to him, memories of dwarves that cleaved dreams. He decides, then acts. Solas stretches across the Veil to find his own truth, a different reality than the one these Templars seek to reinforce. The air around the Templar expands with dreams, then dissipates.

The effect is instant. Beneath his helmet he heaves, lungs flooded with magic like water in the lungs of a drowned rat. Thora brings down her hammer on his breastplate. Metal made brittle by magic crumbles at the impact, leaving a hollow crater in the center of his chest.

From a distance his eyes meet Thora’s, her head nodding in his direction. Behind her, the remaining Templars gather their strength and prepare their onslaught, but her attention remains divided. Her gaze darts to his left. Brown eyes widen in their sockets, alerting him before she can cry out: “Look out, Solas!”

He catches the greedy glint of steel against sunlight from the corner of his eye, thrusting towards him. In the space of a breath he surges backwards, Fade carrying him from the Templar’s reach. All the air rushes from him, back crashing against the trunk of a tree, stealing the air from his lungs. Skull cracks against the bark, vision blurring as the Templar advances. Dark words seethe from bloodied lips, cursing him in the name of her fallen brothers and sisters.

Solas’ grip tightens around empty air, realising only then that his staff was lost in his retreat. It matters not. Energy pools into his palm as easily as through a focus, but stutters in the presence of the cleansing aura. Sparks fly, grazing the Templar’s breastplate, earning him nothing but seconds. Once the task of dispatching her would be as trivial as crushing an ant beneath his thumb. Now, his magic wanes, flying further from his reach with every step the Templar takes. What a cruel joke his life would be if this is its final note.

But he has been backed into tighter corners than this by worthier foes. Undeterred by the fear which lays claim to his heart, he grasps desperately for more power, summoning every last scrap of ambient magic in the air. A hopeless thought eats at him as he wonders how it came to this, shooting cinders from his fingertips like a child conjuring their first flame. They fly from his hands, aimed at the dull human eyes which blink out at him from behind a helm.

Every muscle in his body tenses, unsure if he had missed. A shout of pain tears from her throat, and he has his answer. Gloved hands yank her visor back to reveal red-rimmed eyes, tears already streaming down her face to fight the ashes suspended in her eyelashes. “You’ll regret that,” she spits. The glow that wreaths her sword bursts, and he braces against the tree. Blinding light tears the colour from the grass and magic flies from the Veil to places beyond his reach. She purges the song from the sky, all the weight of the world seems to fall around his shoulders. He grips the bark at his back with white knuckles, until the grooves bore into his skin. If not for it, he might have collapsed. His lungs ache as though they are new, throat closing around unyielding reality.

The Templar sloughs off the dispel from her blade, now trained to kill. Somewhere beyond his field of view, Solas hears a shout. “You wasted precious time taunting me,” he says, words straining against empty lungs. Amusement flickers in his eyes, lips too tired to form any semblance of a smile. “I would be dead were it not for your pride. Now it is too late.”

He sees the question in the soldier’s eyes. Solas counts the seconds. He hears his rescue upon the wind.

Bones crack with a sickening crunch as the Templar’s knees snap backwards, crumbling from the force of Thora’s hammer. She falls like lead weight at Solas’ feet, legs bent at an unnatural angle. A feral cry chokes her, whimpering like a wounded animal which has not yet accepted its end. “Mercy,” she moans, the plated hand which moments ago reached out with violence now stretches imploringly towards his feet, desperate for the healing touch of magic. “Please.”

It isn’t Solas’ mercy, but Varric’s, which ends her life. The bolt pierces her helmet, puncturing it like paper, killing her instantly. “Poor bastard,” he hears the dwarf say, but in the heat of the moment Solas cannot find his pity. His heart hardens as the Templar’s life oozes onto the grass, and he thinks to himself that her blood and bones will do the world more good than her deeds ever had. The bitter thought goes unspoken, Varric’s remark remains unacknowledged.

In an instant, the chaos of battle is over. As he recovers his breath, he looks out over the field to see it riddled with fresh corpses, all of their making. Cassandra stoops in the dirt, wiping her blade in the grass as Varric retrieves his ammo from the bodies of their enemies. Thora’s hammer stands alone by the Templar’s body, its face crusted with a thick layer of blood, its handler nowhere in sight. In the grass beside it lies his discarded staff, its crystal focus shining dully, unaware the danger has passed. Solas bends to claim it, magic coaxing it the rest of the way to his fingers. The exertion proves more taxing than he envisions, the back of his head throbbing with the memory of his collision with the tree. He winces, nursing the back of his head, capping his fingertips with ice to soothe the growing ache.

“You alright there, Chuckles?” Varric asks, concern overshadowed by the hint of amusement which laces his question. “You hit that tree pretty hard.”

“I will manage, thank you,” he says. “Were it not for our Herald’s intervention, however…” He looks for her again, eyes darting around the area. This time he sights her in the shadow of a tree, one arm supporting her against its trunk. “Excuse me a moment.”

Solas steps out of the reach of his would-be killer’s corpse, winding towards the battlefield’s outskirts where their intrepid Herald lingers. “You fare better with a hammer than a sword,” he remarks as he nears her. Thora’s shoulders tense at the sound of his voice so close, and he stops short, uncertainty tinges his words. “After Haven I was unsure what experience you had in battle. I see now I was too quick to judge.” She had been clumsy in the snow, swinging at demons as though she had never held a sword in her life, and maybe that was the case. What she’d lacked in skill she more than made up with strength. The demons fell, though she made quicker work of the Templars today.

Thora doesn’t answer, and for an instant he wonders if she’d taken offense. Dwarves of old were proud warriors, it may be that not everything he remembers of them has been bled from them by the Blight. She turns her face an inch towards him, the rest cast in the shadow of the tree. “I—” One hand flies to her face, fingers pressing against her mouth in anticipation. He watches, uneasy, as she swallows thickly and fights back whatever had threatened to escape. “Sorry.”

Before he has a chance to reassure her, Cassandra’s voice rings out behind them: “We should press on if we want to reach Redcliffe Farm by nightfall.” She stands where he last saw her, sword sheathed and shield shining, bearing no mark of the battle that came before. He does not linger on her, eyes returning to Thora whose attention has shifted as his had, allowing him a glimpse of her face. An ill look haunts her, grey tinges her usual warm complexion with dark lines drawn beneath her eyes.

A sharp intake of breath pierces the air as Thora readies her answer. He reaches out, hand brushing her shoulder before he interjects. “Another moment, Seeker,” he says. “I believe it best I examine the Anchor first. There is no telling what influence a Templar’s abilities have on it.”

The Seeker looks at him, her mood impossible to discern from beneath a dark, drawn brow. A small sigh that sounds like frustration escapes her lips. “Very well. Do what you must.”

“Thank you,” he says, inclining his head towards her. As he turns to the Herald, he sees emotion shining in her eyes as she looks up at him, perhaps trying to decide what to make of his diversion. Solas is not certain what to make of it himself. The easy answer is that it is in his best interest to protect her image, even if only from their companions, but it would be a lie to insist it’s the only answer. In her discomfort he saw a glimpse of the familiar, recognition of a feeling he had once grappled with himself— or so it seemed. He did not know. The Veil mutes all emotion, from the most fervent passions to the most tender sentiments. It may be a reflection he sees in her eyes, his own hopes and fears echoed back to him.

Whatever he sees in her he pushes aside for the sake of their present problem. Cassandra could not be held off forever. Lowering himself to one knee to accommodate her height, Solas extends one hand towards hers. “Give me your hand, please.”

She peels the glove from her left hand, offering it forward to Solas as she did on the day they first met. This time it lands in his waiting reach, rather than being yanked forcibly towards a Rift. He’d studied it well while she lay motionless in her cell, and then again in bed, but conscious it is a different creature. Her fingers flex and bend, clearly unaccustomed to the careful attention afforded to them. He strokes his thumb across her palm, smoothing them back to allow him an unobstructed view of the Anchor. It runs like a fissure in the earth across her skin, an otherworldly green occasionally flashes in the center, and through it he catches a glimpse of the infinite. “Does it pain you?” he asks. This examination is a façade to buy them a moment’s respite, but there is no telling what effect the Mark will have on her in the coming weeks. Already he fears there will come a day where his knowledge of it will fail him, powerless as he is now.

“No. At least not since you last looked at it. I... don’t think the Templars could touch it if they’d tried.”

“Curious.” Although he ought not be surprised, the Anchor and the Templars share more than a few similarities, tied together by a Titan’s heart and blood. “Regardless, I would advise caution. This may have been an anomaly.”

“I’ll be careful. I’ve had it described to me by mages before, doesn’t sound like something I’d want to invite on myself.”

Her comment sparks a question, one which has plagued him since she called out to him in the midst of battle. “You’ve fought alongside mages before, have you not?”

“Yeah,” her response is strained, and punctuated by a second heavy swallow, “how’d you guess?”

“You signalled for my intervention when handling the marksman. The uninitiated would not have thought to ask.”

The observation catches her off-guard, eyes darting from his face to her hand before she remembers who she’s addressing. “The Carta’s been known to hire apostates. Some jobs just needed that magic touch, you know?” A small smile turns her lips, weary eyes shining with a hint of mischief. “I’ve, uh, been known to smuggle a mage or two out of the Circle, too. Back in Kirkwall. Don’t... don’t tell Cassandra.”

He blinks, surprise registers upon his face as no more than a mild arch of his brow. “You believe she would be displeased?” Solas asks, working a barrier into the surface of her skin. It accepts the magic more readily than Varric, the Anchor glittering like an uncut peridot, recognising the spellcaster.

Thora shrugs. “They’ve got enough to deal with from me being Carta.”

“True, but there is more than the Chantry to consider,” he says. From his perspective (and in his experience) there will be little pleasing them, presenting an obstacle to be worked around rather than through. Even Cassandra seems to realise that. “The rebel mages may look favourably upon someone who has helped them in the past.”

“Maybe.”

A frown tugs at his lips, her dismissal rankles despite telling himself she is not at her best. “If I may ask, how did you find yourself in their employ?” He imagines the children of families blessed with the fortune to be born into money and magic, with coin enough to make the Carta think it was worth the Templar’s scrutiny. “I cannot imagine it is work you find yourself in by chance.”

“It’s not. I volunteered. I ran the same tunnels as the Mage Underground, and it— well, it seemed like the right thing to do.” She pauses. “It was the right thing to do.”

“I see.” He doesn’t see, at least not entirely. Like the many lies he has told since walking into the Inquisition’s midst, it is woven with truth. Solas knows well the impulse to do good, or try to, whatever the cost to oneself may be, and he’d seen it in Thora before. Thanks to her, the people of the Crossroads will sleep with full bellies and warm blankets, but the world will thank her for helping them. The same cannot be said of the mages. Suddenly the promise made to him in Haven does not seem so empty. Her oath to guard his freedom from those who sought to take it no longer rings as a hollow platitude. “Whatever Seeker Pentaghast may think, I believe your conviction is admirable.”

She shifts self-consciously, the hand in his grasp straining against his gentle grip. “I’m glad you think so.” The simple effort it takes her to accept his praise seems a laborious undertaking, he wonders to himself if the sweat on her brow now shines fresh from the endeavour. Her acceptance is punctuated by a sharp inhale. “Listen. I… I wanted to thank you, you know, for this.” She looks pointedly at their joined hands. “I didn’t want anyone to see me like this. It’s…”

“A natural reaction.” Their eyes meet, but it’s her gaze which falters first. “They were our enemies, but where we saw a threat to be eliminated others would have seen friends, family.” He does not look back, but his mind returns to the felled Templar behind him. No pity nor guilt moves his heart at the thought of her passing, she laid in a pool of her own violent choices. Still, he spares a thought for the woman her family will mourn. A woman who undoubtedly bore little resemblance to the one Solas briefly knew. “Our duty to ourselves and Redcliffe’s people demanded we face them, but it is not weakness to be affected by their deaths.”

A weak smile spreads over Thora’s lips, thin and touched by lingering unease, but it shines true in her eyes. “Thanks,” she says for the second time. “For understanding, I mean.”

He acknowledges it with a mild bow of his head. “Does it bother you, knowing that I have seen how this affected you?”

“A little,” she admits. “Better you than—” Her head nods towards the others, brow arched in their direction.

Solas looks towards them, catching sight of Cassandra as she paces aimlessly around the field, throwing glances towards their destination, always mindful of their journey’s end. Varric shows no such concern, reclining upon a rock, an unfamiliar tune whistling from his lips. He turns back to Thora with a question upon his. “And what have I done to earn the distinction?”

“Nothing.” The confession is quick, as though speaking it without hesitation will spare her his offense. “Cassandra’s put such faith in me, I’m just counting the breaths until I let her down somehow, and Varric…” She pulls a face, nose wrinkling. “I’ve read one or two of his books. I’m not sure I like the thought of making into one of them.” Thora at last looks up at him again, searching for something in his face. What quality she seeks, he’s unsure, though he is reluctant to grant it. Every piece he surrenders is a piece he cannot get back. “You? You’re just… odd.”

A surprised laugh chokes him. He does not need to look behind them to feel the Seeker’s head whip in their direction, discerning eyes measuring their progress. “An honest assessment, and perhaps well-deserved,” he says, amusement wrinkling the corners of his eyes. “Should I take offense?”

She fixes him with a challenging stare and smiles, though this time the gesture spreads her lips wide, revealing two rows of white teeth. “I suppose that depends on if you think being normal is something to be proud of.”

To his surprise, he feels himself smiling back, her playful grin reflecting in his own. “I suppose it does.” He looks down at her hand, ears angling back as he realises any pretence of examination had since been forgotten. Seconds counted for more in this world, true, yet it remains remarkably easy to become lost in conversation. “Do you feel ready to move on?” Solas tries to discern the answer for himself from her expression. The long, drawn-out look has faded, forgotten as the excuse which kept them here a moment more. Recognising that settles uneasy in his stomach, raising questions better left for dreams.

“I think so.” She takes her hand back from him, flexing her fingers before she fits them into her glove. “I don’t know how much longer Cassandra will buy that excuse of yours, anyway.”

“You underestimate me.” There is a humour in his remark that surprises him, a wry twist to his words which he did not expect to find in the company he keeps. “Were I less adept at wasting the Seeker’s time, I would not be stood before you now. Still—” He rises, mindful of the wet patches of mud which now darken his knees. “We would not want to keep her waiting.”

She gives him a knowing look, the faint smile creasing the corners of her eyes fades as she turns back to the rest of their party. Varric is the first to notice their business concluded, or the first to acknowledge it, behind him he hears his voice call out, “Hand treating you any better?”

“Never better, actually,” she replies in a chipper tone, a friendly veneer which masks the unpleasantness of a moment ago, but Solas notes how she averts her gaze from the carnage they left in their wake. The shadows of war still seem to haunt her steps. She tilts her head towards Cassandra, deference clear even from behind. “Sorry for the hold up. I’m ready to go now.” Deference aside, it is at Thora’s word that their party picks up and moves, mere moments passing between her signal and the resumption of their journey. Solas alone trails behind, forgetting his feet beneath him. Only his eyes follow her, mind wandering, wondering, doubting if the Mark upon her hand is the most remarkable thing about her. She senses his absence, looking over her shoulder with a question upon her brow, saying nothing, but somehow he hears. Questions pile like snowflakes on a rooftop, building around him with no easy remedy to relieve their mounting pressure, but he picks up his feet and follows the answer into Ferelden’s hills.

Surrounded by the voices of his companions in the thick of conversation, the seconds lose their urgency, the minutes slip by without notice. As a joke in the air draws a new smile to his face, sixty seconds starts to resemble not another minute survived, but rather another minute lived.

#gore cw #solas #dragon age #dragon age fanfic #inquisitor cadash #( my writing )#show that mercy to me ( thora )#[ ok the title stays... for now. ]

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coruscantguard · 4 years

Text

Before the by-and-by

@loving-fox-hours - Fox Week - Day 4 - Undercover Mission

Commander Fox, Ysanne Isard, Armand Isard (mentioned)

Warning for child endangerment, references to child abuse, shitty parenting in general, abuse apologism, and general horrific implications masked by humor and Fox complaining.

(Ao3 Link)

Coruscant, Level 1329, 22BBY

"Do you know who I am?”

Fox freezes as a young voice-- a child’s voice, really-- cuts him off. He waits for a second, to see if anyone else is going to reply, and when no one does, he sighs and sends the bartender what he hopes is an apologetic smile, but probably looks more like a pained grimace.

The bar is much too empty for the kid to be talking to anyone else, and considering how nonexistent his luck is, Fox is pretty damn sure the kid is talking to him.

The kid is small, humanoid, and she’s making a face at him. The kid is much, much too small to be in a bar. The kid is dressed like a tiny bounty hunter.

But Fox is undercover right now. And that means the answer should be no. Is no. Because his undercover self doesn’t know anyone.

So he’s already saying the word no when he realizes that no, actually, that’s not correct. He does know the kid.

He’s seen the kid around the Senate building before. He’s seen the kid around RCMOP before. Osik, he’s seen the kid in both Senate Bureau and Republic Intelligence meetings before. He vividly remembers wanting to ask why a child was in a briefing, and he remembers not doing that, because contrary to poular opinion, Fox is not stupid or suicidal.

(It’s not like it was that weird the kid was there-- Fox learned about similarly brutal massacres as a cadet, just not via military briefing. If her father is fine with it, and the Chancellor is fine with it, then yeah, a kid who barely comes up to his elbow can sit in on a briefing about the Malevolence and the ion cannons. Fox supposes that the weirdness is probably because he’s used to natborns... coddling their children more. Maybe it’s just a Senator thing?)

“You’re Director Isard’s daughter,” he tells her, and he’s certain of that. Now that he’s looking, it’s obvious. She’s a spitting image of her father, from the inky black hair and white stripe above her temple to the casual look of chilly disdain on her face as she readjusts her stance.

He silently pleads with the Force that the kid doesn’t want him to actually know her name, because he’s got no idea about that little tidbit of information.

Thankfully, it doesn’t seem like the kid wants that, because she just sends him a toothy grin, before putting her hands on her waist and tilting her head to the side. Since cadets tend to loose their teeth at around three standard, and because he’s pretty sure it’s the same for natborn humans, the kid is probably at about seven standard in human years.

“I am!” she says, and waits for a second, before leaning in to whisper, “and you’re the Clone Commander of the Coruscant Guard.”

Fox blinks in surprise. Because, well. He’s undercover. “Right now I’m a bounty hunter from Coreilla,” he quickly corrects, keeping his voice at a low murmur. “But yes, I am,” he replies, because she’s not wrong, and he’d rather her not fight him about actually being a clone.

“I know,” the kid says. “I know what I’m going to be,” she informs him matter-of-factly. Fox blinks again, because. Just. What.

“Do you now?” he finds himself asking as he slowly backs up, bringing the two of them away from prying ears and eyes. He’s not exactly sure what the kid is talking about, but if it’s going to break his cover, he’d rather be near a door for it.

“Mmmhmm,” she says, nodding vigorously as she follows. “The Director of Intelligence. “

Kark’s sake, what the kark, Director Isard, why is your child here--

“After all, I am to be my Father’s heir,” the kid announces as they spill out onto the street. ‘So maybe you’ll work for me one day!”

“Maybe,” Fox allows, and he grabs the kid’s hand as he starts moving down the street. He’s obviously not going to meet with his contact when there is a cadet-aged child there, so his plan has to change. “It’s good to have drive,” Fox says noncommittally, and he could find the leather-rats and drop her off with them, but the CSF is corrupt at best, and he’d rather not be the reason Director Isard’s kid turns up dead in a ditch--

“Dad says that when children aren’t given purpose, they grow up to be unmotivated and... in-comp-e-tent.” She pauses, scrunches up her nose. “I think that’s what he said, anyway.”

Suddenly, he feels a tug on his hand, and realizes that she’s stopped in the middle of the road. Of course.

“Lady Isard,” he starts, and her eyes widen.

“Nope!” she says, cutting him off, and she goes digging in her dress’s pockets until she pulls out a small black comm unit. “Undercover, remember?”

The kid slaps the comm on her wrist before he can even begin to consider how to reply to that, and she hits a button. A digital passport pops up, with a photo of her on it. “Right now, I’m Anne Antilles! Your daughter. Uh, here. Dad told me to give this to you,” she says, and shoves a crumpled up piece of flimsi at him. And--

Director Isard sent his karking child to level 1329 alone to play messenger?

Right. Okay. That’s, whatever. Not important. Not his jurisdiction, not his business.

Fox nods once, but then he sees something out of the corner of his eye, and he’s moving. He grabs her under her arms, lifts her up so he can get both of them off the main street. The shadows of an alley greet them, and his pace is brisk as he moves away from what might be one of the leather-rats’ patrols. The kid masks her surprise in seconds, and she wraps her legs around him as he settles her on his hip. Her arms loop around his neck automatically, and osik, at least the Director’s kid knows how to make a quiet getaway. The kid is silent-- impressively so, he can barely hear her breathing-- and they make it out onto another street without any fanfare.

Fox skims the updated mission parameters flimsi with one hand as he walks. This could... go very badly very quickly if he’s not careful. Director Armand Isard is not a forgiving man. The fact that his daughter is apparently joining Fox on this mission is a fact that threatens to be a Problem with a capital peth, and he’d really rather it not be.

Force’s sake. Why didn’t Thire get this mission? Thire is good with kids. Thire likes kids. Thire would probably like this.

“Can I have a blaster?” the kid suddenly asks in an exaggerated whisper.

“No,” he says, because he learned that lesson well enough.

“Come on! I know how to use them,” the kid protests.

“Still a no.”

“Dad-uh, my other dad would let me have a blaster,” she complains, and Fox snorts. He does not doubt that for even a second. “Wait, should I call you Papa instead of Dad?”

“Nope.”

“But I can’t call you both Dad.”

“Yes, you can.”

“Here, I’ll call my dad Dad, and you can be, um... Buir!”

Oh Force karking hell, lords of kriffing atron, kark me--

“Wait, you clones do know Mando’a, right?”

“Most of us do, yes” Fox grits out, as he silently resolves to never go on an undercover mission ever again. It’s not a resolution he’ll be able to actually fulfill, but it’s nice to at least consider it. “And you can just call both of us dad. In fact, that’s what you’re going to do. Okay?”

He is going to get so, so drunk after this mission, and hopefully forget the entire goddamn thing. Thank the Force that Cody isn’t here right now, kriffing hell. If his batchmate made a crack about him being in a relationship with the karking Director of Republic Intelligence, Fox would be obliged to kill him, which would then make both Wolffe and bottle-blonde pissy, and he has enough problems as it is.

“Ugh. Fine. You’re boring.”

“Didn’t you just say that I’m Dad?”

The kid hits him for that, which, okay, that’s fair. He’d hit Cody if Cody made that joke.

Then she tightens her grip around his neck, and he has to actually fight back a snicker. The kid is maybe 50 pounds soaking wet though, so strangulation isn’t an effective method of punishment. He then tells her so, because he’s pretty sure Thire once said something about how helping children grow and improve their skills is important.

“If I want to strangle you, you won’t see it coming,” she shoots back, but she slowly loosens her hold again. “You’ll be dead, because I’ll actually strangle you.”

“Oh, yes, I’m sure you will,” he replies, voice dry, as they turn onto a smaller, more crowded street. “Sometimes miracles do happen.” This is where the contact the Director wants him to meet with should be...

“I don’t believe in miracles,” the kid replies haughtily, sounding almost offended, and she sniffs in what Fox guesses is distaste. “I’m an Isard! We make our own luck.”

I’m an Isard, she proclaims, and the flinch Fox stifles is instinctive, his body reacting and putting him on high alert before his mind has even started processing. I’m an Isard, she says, and he casts his eyes out to the crowd to check and see if anyone reacts to the name, because kriff, worst timing ever there, kid. If the Director’s contact is paying attention, hears the Director’s name, and if he thinks he’s about to be brought in--

Well. It’s best not to consider that possibility prematurely. He can deal with it if it occurs.

(And Fox is pretty damn sure that this, this, is why the Republic doesn’t use cadets for undercover missions. No matter how good one might be with a blaster, they’re still shinier than the gleaming armor of the bastards in blue, and that’ll always show in some way.)

“You’re an Antilles,” he reminds the kid, and he forces himself to breathe through the instinctive flash of both anger and annoyance. Director Isard’s kid, he reminds himself. Could ruin your life with one word.

The kid’s eyes widen as she realizes what she did, and he can tell that she’s seconds away from looking back over his shoulder in panic, which would undoubtedly give them away, so he bops her on the nose.

The kid punches him in the neck in retaliation, but she manages to keep herself from giving them away, so Fox dismisses it. “We do make our own luck, though,” she mouths to him after a few seconds of silence, because apparently someone really wants the last word.

Fox just nods in response, ceding the point to her. He’s not about to argue with an eight year old about luck, and considering her tone of voice, he’s 99% sure that she’s just repeating something that someone told her. Probably her father, honestly. Director Isard is not one to wait for the tide to shift in his favor. He’s more fond of doing whatever he must, and sacrificing whomever he must, until he can bend the tide in his favor with his own two hands. It would make sense that his daughter has a similar point of view.

It’s also a point of view Fox has never had the privilege of having, and the truth of that stings as it settles into his chest. Because none of his brothers have gotten to even consider having that point of view, without immediately being laughed at. They’re clones. They belong to the Republic. You don’t get to just gaff off and make your own luck when the kriffing Republic is the one that holds both your leash and noose. Not unless you want to choke on it, anyway.

Kriffing Natties.

... But that’s his own karking problem, and it’s not a problem he can afford to ponder during a mission. Or ever, honestly.

Force. Hopefully the Director’s contact will show up soon. Fox would really rather start forgetting this mission sooner than later, but he can’t do that while there’s a child in his care.

RCMOP: Republic Center for Military Operations

Leather-rat: Slang for the Coruscant Underworld Police, insult

Bastards in blue: Insulting version of “Boys in Blue” which refers to the Senate Guards (And the police, but here Fox is insulting the SG)

#commander fox #ysanne isard #armand isard #tcw #the clone wars #commander fox week #my writing #navn rambles

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brvdleymilligan · 3 years

Text

HLO slinks in thru a bead curtain.......... truly sry this took me so long to concoct bt i’m here now, hand on hip, smiling coyly at u all...... i’m nai n i’m rly excited to b here so i’ll just dive right in!! u can find bradley’s pinterest board here n her muse tag here. like this or hmu for plots!

[ cis female, she/her, margaret qualley , twenty-four ] i can’t be sure, but i think i just saw BRADLEY MILLIGAN drive onto the parkway. don’t they know we’re not supposed to be driving on that haunted road right now? maybe it has to do with the fact that they’re so +RESILIENT and -VOLATILE that makes them feel UNPHASED about everything going on. i guess we could also chalk it up to the fact that they’re always reminding me of LEMON IN A FRESH CUT, THE AMBER BLINK OF AN ANGRY ALLEY CAT, GRINNING WITH BLOOD ON YOUR TEETH. either way, i hope they get back safely. [ nai, she/her, 24, gmt ]

aesthetics: singeing a hole in your fishnets with the cherry of a menthol, spitting a pistachio behind the bar just to hear it ping off the nozzle top bottles, lemon in a fresh cut, a war torn poppy standing alone in an empty field, pressing thumbs to yellow bruises, stomping over flowerbeds when there’s a path right besides it, dangling over ledges just to feel your chest jolt, a snarling rottweiler that needs muzzling, limp feet poking out behind a door, ‘I PROMISE I DON’T BITE’ scrawled on a name tag, slapping a bald head in front of you at the cinema like it’s a bongo, not owning a single jacket that isn’t stolen, driving a stranger’s car down the wrong lane against the screaming traffic, hair more feral than a wolf cub and eyes smudgier than a coal mine.

BACKGROUND:

ok SO. her father owns a strip club in crescent hill named no angels. it’s kind of.... a seedy establishment i won’t lie. hs a red glowing sign like it’s lighting up a window in amsterdam. cigarette butts floating in oil slick puddles outside. unsavoury characters crawling all over like rats in a sewer. despite this it’s a legitimate business on the surface of things n it does pretty well in trade. it’s like.... that place people warn u NOT to have ur bachelor party at unless u fancy urself the type tht willingly enters a lion’s den bt tht almost??? adds to the allure in a way??? ppl r like wow so sketchy it’s the thrill of a lifetime........ i mean run while u still can bt go off i guess

it isn’t Confirmed Public Knowledge bt it’s pretty heavily implied thru the rumour mill that bradley’s father is the head of a gang of rly............ Not Nice people. all the ppl that work for him u would hands down NOT want to run into in a dark alley. while things seem legitimate on the suface it’s pretty clear they’re into shady dealings n the townsfolk that suspect that would indeed b correct! the club’s a front for a drug business n they’re also washing n running counterfeit cash thru it. they probably also have their hands dipped into a few other local businesses to run their cash thru these too n keep it all seemingly by the books so nobody comes sniffing around. they even r friends with a member of local law enforcement that’s working w them for a cut so they honestly have all bases covered to keep things airtight n foolproof. perhaps a business in reed too which bradley oversees bt i haven’t given this Too Much thought as of yet??

so ya she’s grown up fairly local most of her life n would maybe be known around town as such.................. the milligans r certainly Interesting as far as families go so like. it honestly wldn’t surprise me if ppl nudge elbows when they see one of them coming n immediately walk in the opposite direction. just quite an intimidating presence...... they’re like caged animals where ur specifically instructed NOT to stick ur fingers between the bars bc they WILL bite

on a more personal note her dad is pretty much the worst human being alive n bradley hs like….. a lot of issues with herself as a result of years of toxicity n abuse

in terms of more family bkground info her mum’s name was alyssa n she vanished when bradley was 12. jst like…. into thin air. nothing. no note. zilch. gan! n when bradley asked her dad abt it his response was essentially “guess she didn’t love us enough to stay”. as bradley’s got older tho n become (without intention) more involved in the business side of things, it’s become pretty clear there was far more to the story.

(abuse tw) they had a horrible marriage n tony ws emotionally manipulative at the best of times, violent at worst, which didn’t help the fact tht alyssa ws struggling a lot w severe depression n rly just… not in the mindset to b dealing w anything else, even where motherhood ws concerned. bradley p much… would look after her a lot n they’d both b scared of her dad n it was just a whole unhealthy mess.

(death implied tw) anyway im rambling bt basically tony (bradley’s dad) gt wind of alyssa sleeping w men tht worked fr him n he just… got rid. bradley’s kind of worked out over the yrs tht her mum didn’t jst leave on her own accord n tht something must hav happened to her bt she’s too scared of her dad to ever directly accuse him

when her mum went all of her dad’s cruelty pretty mch got channelled straight onto her. it ws diluted between two before bt as u can probably imagine her upbringing was jst…. a steep downhill decline

(drugs implied tw) she learnt ways 2 deal w the incurring trauma bt they weren’t healthy ones at all! bsically jst. will do or take anything fr the distraction. chases a thrill like it’s the only way to remind her she’s alive. has absolutely no regard fr her own wellbeing n often gets other ppl in trouble too bc she’s so insatiably reckless

(hospitalisation tw) she hd….2 separate stints of psychiatric hospitalisation n she never tlks abt it. like ever. acknowledging she’s been vulnerable is her worst nightmare n bc of the way her dad raised her she always thinks any sign of struggling within herself is weakness. truly does…. not kno how to properly emotion

CUT TO!!!! the present. she’s currently living at the motel which is like. the least homely place she cld ever live rly but bradley loves making her life uncomfortable n doesn’t rly believe in growing sentimentally attached to anything if she cn help it <3 probably gets into arguments all the time w her neighbours it’s a whole thing.... atrocious at feeding herself has breakfasts frm the vending machine like her organs aren’t screaming fr vegetables.... plays music too loud n sometimes vanishes for days at a time without a word. she’s a lot.

i honestly feel like the murders haven’t rly phased bradley too hugely....... i won’t lie she probably genuinely is like. oh maybe it’s smthn to do w my dad. n just blinks the other way not rly that phased. on some subconscious level i think she rly just thinks........ death follows her wherever she goes n is like. this is just life for me! kind of depressing. holds her hand bt then screams n pulls away when she inevitably bites me.

PERSONALITY:

the kind of sour cherry only certain people have a taste for

once drank a bottle of whiskey, insisted she could still do a cartwheel and accidentally kicked an old man’s front tooth out in the process. proceeded 2 collapse into a flower bed and laugh so much abt it that she cried

barely takes anything seriously 50% of the time and is angry the other 50%

if she was a coffee she’d be black with five grains of sugar that you couldn’t taste until the last sip

(alcoholism tw) high functioning alcoholic. if u ever see her w a coffee cup u jst kno tht one sniff will confirm high alcohol percentage. honestly idk hw she does it her liver must b yellin

loyal to a point of fault. if she cares abt u (rare) and u murder a man in cold blood (not so rare in the broad scheme of bradley’s life) she’ll brawl anyone that says ur guilty

honestly wld probably fight a person over anything. sometimes she’ll jst be having a bad day n she’ll burst n take it out on whoever says the wrong thing. minefield!

has the worst luck in romance…. ever. ALL her past bfs hav been absolute beasts n as a result she has the ‘romance is dead n love is a lie’ mentality. definitely NOT a romantic. very cut n dry abt these things. sex is mostly just sex n she’d kind of scoff at anyone that wanted more from her

mostly wears stolen clothes from strangers and jackets that swamp her. huge chunky stomping boots with steel toe caps that would RLY bruise if they gave u a kick. hair is p much always a wild mess n she usually hs kind of smudgy/smoky makeup bcos apparently she’s allergic to combs and generally looking presentable… relatable content. the only time she rly looks put together is when she has to do something/go somewhere/see someone on behalf of her father....... he kind of uses her as a sort of. honey pot sometimes fr shit his gang get up to it’s like. not! a way u should ever utilise ur daughter but :/ i cannot stress enough how much i wna drop kick him in the neck

she’s v sarcastic. blunt. kind of has a habit of…. assessing a person n she’s quite perceptive bc she’s been trained to b by the way she always has to monitor her dad’s expression fr the slightest emotion change. she’s very confident n can p much mke a conversation out of whatever if she feels like it. independent too like she hs a bunch of (predominantly surface connection) friends bt she doesn’t care abt going out places alone n does this often. she’s probably kind of known around town bt itd b a 50/50 balance between bein known as intimidating n bein known as that one girl tht always gets into anarchy

likes: drunken snow angels that drag on so long they flirt with pneumonia, stealing cars, throwing watermelons off rooftops to watch them explode, shooting pedestrian’s with bb guns from hidden spots on rooftops.

dislikes: telling the truth, tulips so yellow it’s like they’re gloating, playing music loud enough to fry your brain and serve it on a piece of toast, going home.

PLOTS:

someone tht works at the ‘no angels’ strip club?? either as a dancer or bartender or whtever. just a forewarning it’s probably gna b a pretty….. seedy and Not That Pleasant environment bc it’s like. a crime hotspot inevitably bc it’s a gang hangout so. ur chara wld truly be in fr a rollercoaster ride to say the least

(drugs tw) she deals coke fr her dad’s gang so perhaps ur muse buys off her

anyone….. she’s brawled in the past like. she’s literally a menace i cnt express this enough. wil jst randomly throw a drink in someone’s face fr no reason bc she’s bored. she’s probably pissed off 1000 diff ppl in 1000 diff ways. the possibilities r endless n i jst think tht’s a sexy prospect!

fwbs perhaps??? exes??? (probably ws a tumultuous relationship honestly bradley is. a handful...... it’s also rly not often she ties herself down tbh so this would maybe have to b discussed/be circumstantial/kind of rare)

mayb someone tht she met at an aa meeting when she hd to go fr a court mandated thing one time after bein arrested fr public indecency. i feel like there’s probably a rly expensive statue somewhere thts fancily sculpted n she like. did a flying kick n broke the dick of it off n gt arrested fr it

ppl she……. Goes Wild Goes Crazy w. truly jst the most self destructive person alive so anyone w a similar mindset wld b a hellish bt fun combination

on the contrary a gd influence cld b nice perhaps? like someone tht genuinely cares abt her n she jst doesn’t kno hw to compute it

maybe people who r her neighbours that live at the motel too??

OH it could b fun if ur muse runs or works at a local business maybe like. a bar? idk? n bradley n ur muse have developed a rapport bc she frequents the place n is................ a Character

um. honestly the world’s our oyster. hmu n we cn brainstorm if none of tht catches ur eye!

#parkway.intro #abuse tw #death tw #drugs tw #hospitalisation tw #alcoholism tw #depression tw #i believe tht covers it...........#FLINGS this like a harpoon

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hanmajoerin · 4 years

Text

Looking for some soft, post-canon InuKag? Look no further than chapter two of Lost Time which is promptly titled “With Me.”

The story is posted on Fanfiction.net and AO3 and is also available for your viewing pleasure below!

The fire popped three times, another confirmation about InuYasha’s claim.

Three years.

Kagome’s mind chewed on the idea like taffy. Even though InuYasha sat mere inches from her, she still carried the weight of his absence. The idea that they spent another two years apart sent Kagome’s hand flying to his. She gave it a sincere squeeze, relieved to find that she could touch him. That he was still real. “InuYasha... I’m so sorry.”

There was so much she wanted to tell him, but Kagome hesitated, wondering if she’d only be repeating herself. They hadn’t been able to talk about their first reunion and she didn’t know if she had been back for a few days, weeks, or months. Regardless, Kagome wanted to share with him what was in her heart right now; the difficulties she experienced with her first real heartbreak. Kagome bit her lip slightly. Would he want to relive this? Did she already tell him how she probably sealed the well? Could he forgive her? Did he know that he was on her mind every day? Did he know—did he know how much she needed him?

“Don’t apologize,” InuYasha was quick to say, nearly slamming his free hand onto the wooden floor beneath them. Kagome gasped slightly. He shook his head, silver hair whipping from side to side. “I could have jumped out of the well back then but I didn’t. I felt it pulling me back and I let it because I thought knowing you were safe was enough.”

InuYasha knew instantly what the high schooler meant. However many moments passed between them since then hadn’t dulled the determination in his amber eyes or the resolute conviction in his speech. She could feel a small smile forming. It didn’t take away the pain in full but it meant something. She wanted more. Emboldened, she asked, “Was it enough?”

A beat passed between them and Kagome took a sip of the medicinal tea InuYasha brewed to fill it, trying her best to keep focus as a vague static played like a song in her mind.

InuYasha sharply turned his eyes away from her, a grim expression haunting his features. “No.”

Kagome placed the clay cup onto the floor with more care than it deserved. The way she breathed, the way the glazed surface of her teacup shimmered from the fire’s light, the crude weight of her night robes against her chest, the way she was wearing them instead of her pajamas, InuYasha answering her questions... it all created an ethereal atmosphere that lingered like the warmth on her palms. Maybe she should be angry for losing her memories or scared, but those emotions felt impossible with InuYasha at her side. They would find a way to get her lost time back. For now, there was this reunion. It was one that she could share with the boy she never knew could become irreplaceable. It was sacred.

Kagome leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Given their positions, a healthy heap of space still rested between their lower halves but Kagome couldn’t have felt closer to the half-demon. His fire-rat robe felt like silk under her skin. It was familiar. Her cheek all but clicked into place against his shoulder. “I really missed you,” she murmured.

InuYasha slid closer, returning the embrace and resting his cheek on top of her head. He sounded tired as he took in a deep breath. “There wasn’t a day I stopped thinking about you.”

“Me, too.”

A comfortable silence blanketed the couple. Kagome wondered in passing if she should wait for InuYasha to speak first or if he was captivated by the same film that drifted through her mind. As he continued holding her, she watched the part when he pulled her to his chest and apologized for taking so long to save her. When he pushed her back slightly, she saw the time when his wide, red eyes receded to white and amber upon an entirely different reunion. When he squeezed her shoulders in support, she closed her eyes and felt her backpack grazing against her thighs when he carried her home from school. When she opened her eyes again, she saw the moment she whispered her loyalty to him and the time he swore his life on protecting her. Theirs was a movie she never thought would end. It was beyond a relief–beyond her wildest dreams–to be creating the much anticipated sequel.

“Does your head feel better?” InuYasha asked eagerly, thumbs brushing against the light blue fabric of her night robe. They were warm but still felt as fragile as glass which helped Kagome stop herself from laughing at the abrupt topic change. I guess he’s had plenty of time to reminisce.

“It still hurts but I probably have a concussion so it’s to be expected.”

“Maybe you should rest more,” InuYasha suggested, moving the tea away from her. Kagome reached out to pull it closer.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to sleep after you get a concussion,” the high schooler countered, slipping in another sip as if to prove its continued usefulness.

InuYasha glowered at her, arms crossing over his chest. Kagome’s eyes lingered, briefly wondering what it would be like to be caught between them. Encircled by sleeves that could blanket her entirely, grounded to reality as he held her against his chest, moved to glimmering tears at being precisely where she belonged.

“What does it matter? You’ve already been out since this afternoon.”

Kagome blinked a few times, her visions faltering. “This afternoon!? Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“It’s not like we didn’t try. You were out cold!”

Kagome stared at the purple kimono which was used as a makeshift blanket. It barely covered her shins, but the thought of having it pulled back into place along her shoulders had her clinging to her cup like it had the chance to prevent her companion from moving her a single centimeter. “I don’t know if I’m ready to go to sleep yet,” she admitted, a blush dusting her cheeks. Falling asleep and waking up to find her pink comforter instead of a deep and unmistakable red made the idea utterly unappealing. Although announcing the idea seemed embarrassing considering she was also unmistakably back in the Feudal Era.

“Uh...” InuYasha stuttered, picking up on her blush. Kagome wasn’t sure why he hesitated, but all thoughts stopped as soon as he brushed his hand against her cheek. She inhaled the mingling smells of autumn leaves and safety. InuYasha cleared his throat, anchoring Kagome to the moment. “We should wait until you feel better to do...uh... that.”

The insinuation sent Kagome’s hands flying to her cheeks in abstract horror. She ended up slapping one of InuYasha’s hands in the process but, once it was in her grasp, she refused to let it go. “InuYasha, get your mind out of the gutter!” He laughed. “It’s not funny, InuYasha!”

The chuckles hardly lasted but his crooked smirk lingered and it wasn’t long before he spread it her way. “You said the same thing when you first got back,” he confessed. “Guess I’m still a little ahead of myself.”

A single fang gleamed and Kagome took a deep breath. Her blush was back and after a few horrendous seconds, she tactfully decided to ask another extremely unrelated question. “That reminds me, how long have I been back?”

“It’s been... about seven moons.”

“Oh,” was all Kagome could manage to say. She wanted to ask InuYasha about their relationship. What they had done and who they had become to each other, but her flustered heart fluttered against her ribs. She cleared her throat. She wasn’t like InuYasha when it came to “getting ahead of herself.” They were together once and they could be together again but she needed to process it all. “Hey, InuYasha,” she started to say, her fingers brushing against his as if she hoped it would give her the courage to continue. InuYasha quirked a brow in response.

Kagome felt a whole new blush slam across her cheeks. She was beginning to think her body rivaled the temperature of the untended fire. “Do you remember our first new moon together?”

“Hard to forget that shit show,” InuYasha grumbled.

Kagome coughed slightly; it was a physical restraint to keep from taking full offense of how he didn’t recognize that she was referring to their sleeping arrangements, not the spider heads. “After Myoga sucked the poison from your blood... you asked if you could lie in my lap.”

“I did, didn’t I?” InuYasha asked, scratching at the back of his head with his free hand. It was almost as if he was scrambling to remember and Kagome’s smile instantly faltered. “D-don’t look at me like that! I try to forget all my nights spent as a human!”

Kagome dropped his hand and let out an audible groan. “How can you say that? You told me you liked my scent! It was...” Kagome cut herself off and rubbed her forehead. It just didn’t seem worthwhile to start an argument with InuYasha when all she wanted was to touch him and relish in their joint existence. “InuYasha?”

“What is it now?” He grunted, clearly losing his patience.

Then, she plagiarized his words from that night. “Let me use your lap.”

“Okay,” InuYasha said and it shocked Kagome that he hadn’t sputtered or blushed. He was comfortable with being intimate although Kagome should have recognized that earlier. It didn’t take InuYasha long to be sitting properly behind her head and with great care, Kagome got herself situated. She closed her eyes and took in the scent of the forest in fall and a love that saved her over and over and over.

Even though her small fear lingered in the black behind her eyes, she was tempted to fall asleep. A tender silence filled the hut and Kagome felt a warmth building in her stomach despite her growing headache.

“Kagome.” She hummed in response, too comfortable to offer any actual words. InuYasha continued, “When you came back, you said your exams were finished and you didn’t have any regrets. That’s gone now. I...” he paused as if he couldn’t quite string together the right words. Kagome turned her head just in time to see a light flush spreading across his features and it took her a minute to recall how actions and words came different to the half-demon. “I—I just hope that you’re okay with being here. Okay with being with me...”

“InuYasha, I’m exactly where I want to be,” she reassured him, the statement so strong that Kagome couldn’t stop crocodile tears from staining her cheeks. No matter the consequences–no matter the sacrifices–the high schooler couldn’t forget their journey. Coming home was a choice she didn’t need memories to stand by.

Relief overtook every part of InuYasha as he gawked down at her. Kagome never loved him more. They sat still, amber and brown eyes talking in ways spoken language couldn’t hope to say. “Kagome, you...” InuYasha swallowed, this time bending his neck downwards. Kagome’s heartbeat echoed through her ear drums. After spending seven months together, this probably wasn’t their first kiss, but it was her first kiss. Cheeks stained red, Kagome squeezed her eyes closed and was rewarded with chapped lips brushing against hers. His lips were true to his character: rough around the edges even when he was trying to be gentle. His kiss was everything Kagome wanted and she lifted her hand to caress his cheek.

She blinked at the loss of his touch. His attention seemed to be taking away the pain in her head far better than Kaede’s tea. “We’ll visit Kaede in the morning but uh...” a small smirk touched at his features, eyes softening. “Welcome home.”

A dazzling smile and a few more tears crowded her face. Silver hair was like a curtain keeping her attention on InuYasha alone. “I’m home.”

II Chapter 1 II

#hanmajo writes #about InuYasha!#and his wife!#InuYasha #Kagome #InuKag #InuYasha fanfiction #All I really want is the most tender moments between these two idiots #Also I do have a head cannon that Kagome said something along the lines of wanting to spend the night with InuYasha and not Kaede #so naturally #InuYasha is like okay let's get down to business #but in reality #Kagome only wanted to stare at the stars while cuddling with the great love of her life #LOLOL

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spaceskam · 4 years

Text

small examples of mistakes i made and stupid things i did

for @saadiestuff ❤️️

ao3

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Literally, why would you say that? That’s what people say before the worst happens.”

Michael shrugged haphazardly as if none of it mattered. Which is quite on par with the way he was feeling lately. Liz’s tests were becoming more out of fun than necessity and he’d jumped right on board. He liked being the test subject to see what would happen and he was throwing caution to the wind. Two weeks prior, they’d discovered something similar to extra-strength alien speed which kept him up for over 24 hours and required a babysitter. Two weeks before that, they’d found alien sleeping meds.

“You’re getting so fucking reckless,” Liz said, not even trying to hide the giddy tone in her voice.

Kyle stood in the corner with crossed arms and irritation on his face. They’d agreed about two months ago that they should always have another person with them when the dose was administered because they didn’t want a repeat of the time that she’d given him something that made him ridiculously angry. Bad times.

“Alright, hit me with it,” Michael urged, slapping his arm.

Liz cleaned the space with alcohol and tied a tourniquet around his arm before injecting the purplish serum. Then they waited. And waited. And waited.

“Are you even feeling anything?” Liz asked, frowning as she pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. He shook his head and she frowned a little deeper.

“Nothing.”

“That’s so weird,” she said. Kyle pushed himself off the wall and walked a little closer.

“What were you expecting it to do?” Kyle wondered. Liz traveled back to her notes and double-checked she’d given him the right thing.

“Well, it was only a tweaked version of the alien Adderal mix, so it should be closer to like an over the counter caffeine pill,” Liz said, her frown turning into a pout, “You seriously don’t feel anything?”

“Nope,” Michael confirmed, but he wasn’t too concerned about anything. Sometimes it took a while for things to kick in. They’d just gotten too used to automatic results. “I’ll just give it some time and I’ll let you know what happens.”

“Okay,” she said. Michael pulled the tourniquet off and hopped down, feeling slightly woozy for a minute to the point that he had to grab the stool for balance. “What was that?”

“I don’t know,” he said, his eyebrows furrowing. Once he got himself stable, he didn’t feel any more effects. “I just got lightheaded for a second.”

“We should take his blood pressure,” Kyle said. Liz grimaced a little bit.

“We don’t actually know what normal would be,” she said softly. Kyle gave her that look that was typically directed at Michael and it was weird to see it given so freely to Liz. Maybe he was finally getting over her. A part of Michael was proud of him and that felt even weirder than that time he got doused with an anxiety eraser that removed all sense of inhibitions and he kissed Liz.

“Are you telling me you guys have spent almost six months doing dumb shit when you could’ve been tracking things like, I don’t know, blood pressure?” he demanded. They both smiled tightly. “I hate you both. Guerin, I’ll drive you home just in case it did lower your blood pressure and you get dizzy while driving, okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed after being hit with a wave of fatigue. He wasn’t really in the mood to disagree and that had everything to do with the impending lecture from Kyle, Max, and Alex if he got in a wreck when he knew he was dizzy.

“Liz, I’ll make you a list of important stuff to work on after this is out of his system,” he explained. Liz pouted, but she nodded her head regardless.

They said their goodbyes and started making their way towards the car, Kyle grabbing Michael’s arm every time he stumbled. He was definitely light-headed.

“So, what, we think it lowered my blood pressure?” Michael asked, ignoring the way his stomach started to ache in the way it did when he was hungover. Kyle pursed his lips and looked at him, pressing his hand to his forehead like Liz had.

“You’re getting colder and you’re dizzy. Are you nauseous? Tired? Struggling the breathe? Feeling dehydrated, maybe?” Kyle listed. Michael relaxed in the seat, his face involuntarily forming a frown at the sick feeling in his stomach continued.

“Tired and nauseous. What does dehydration feel like?” he asked. Kyle didn’t really answer, he just started the car.

“Yeah, I’m thinking it’s low blood pressure. Keep me updated if it gets any worse on the drive. I’ll stop and get you water and then I’ll fill Alex in so he can keep an eye on you tonight. You should be okay as long as it doesn’t get too much worse,” he explained. Michael nodded and closed his eyes, trying to think of anything else so he didn’t throw up. This was probably his least favorite lab rat experiment ever if this feeling was concerned.

The drive was agonizingly slow and his nausea seemed to only get worse. Eventually, he caved and got Kyle to pull over, which led to him just gagging with nothing to show for it until his body was done going through the motions so he could get back in the car. When they stopped to get water, Michael could only take a few sips before he started shivering and Kyle gave him a jacket from his backseat.

“I would lecture you, but I’ll save that for when you’re feeling less pathetic,” Kyle told him. Michael just groaned and huddled into the doctor’s jacket more. It was taking way too long to get to Alex.

Eventually, though, they pulled up to the cabin and Buffy leisurely made her way around from the backyard to see who pulled up. Alex followed with a smile on his face that turned to confusion when he saw it was Kyle’s car and not Michael’s truck.

“Your boyfriend finally got his comeuppance for being Liz’s lab rat,” Kyle said.

“Say that word again and I’ll puke on your shoes,” Michael grumbled, slowly sliding out of the passenger seat. Both men came to his aid. “I’m fine, I just need to sleep it off.”

“Yeah, we think he has low blood pressure, but I can’t be 100% sure because we have no reference point.”

“Liz doesn’t have a reference point? What the hell?”

“That’s what I said!” Kyle scoffed. Michael halfheartedly mocked him before puckering his lips in Alex’s direction. He rolled his eyes, but he pecked his cheek nonetheless. “But basically I just need you to keep an eye on him to make sure his symptoms don’t get worse. Right now, I’m not really sure what we can do but wait.”

“Okay, I can do that,” Alex said, helping him up the steps of the cabin which was a strange role change for them. Still, Kyle and Alex led him to the couch and covered him up with a blanket and shoved the water bottle in his face.

They spoke for a few more minutes as Michael made himself comfy, feeling like shit for an annoyingly prolonged time. Was this how humans felt? Because, if so, he suddenly had an entirely different level of empathy.

After Kyle left, Alex came over the couch and sat on the coffee table. Michael peeked an eye open just enough to see him lifting Buffy onto the couch where she happily snuggled behind his bent knees with her head on his thigh. Then Alex gave him a sweet smile.

“You feel bad, baby?” he cooed, reaching out to comb his fingers through his hair. Michael nodded slightly and Alex gave an exaggerated pout, leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll make dinner and then we can go to bed early, how’s that sound?”

“Good,” Michael croaked. Alex just gave another smile and another kiss and left him.

Michael drifted in and out of sleep as Alex cooked for them. Eventually, he came to him with a bowl of soup that was clearly meant for them to share. Alex fed him like he was helpless, carefully giving him spoonfuls. He’d honestly never felt so loved in his entire life.

By the time Alex was finished with the dishes, Michael was feeling a little more steady and he was able to follow Alex to bed without much assistance. Buffy followed them with heavy footsteps and settled in her bed as Michael collapsed in his. Alex gave a low, warm chuckle as he got ready for bed while Michael slowly got out of his jeans.

“Thank you for being nice to me,” Michael said once Alex climbed into bed and turned off the lights.

“Of course I’m taking care of you, I love you,” Alex said. Michael managed a smile.

“Well, thank you for loving me.”

“No problem.”

Going to sleep was easy. Staying asleep, however, was harder than anticipated. Some time during the night, Michael became so overheated that he was sweating through his clothes and he’d kicked the blankets off of himself. He woke up at another point with his heart pounding in his chest to the point he was convinced it was a heart attack, only soothed by Alex’s half-asleep petting and shushing. He eventually passed out for the final time by stripping completely and laying on top of the blankets, heavy-breathing into the dark void of the room.

Still, he woke up the next morning before Alex. He felt better, though, if only a little worn out from his night of bullshit. He dragged himself to the bathroom and then, only then, did he notice it.

He looked in the mirror and he was bald. Fucking bald. With some extra checking, he realized it wasn’t just bald, but he was entirely hairless. No hair on his chest, arms, legs, face, nothing. He couldn’t even find any remnants of peach fuzz.

“Oh, no,” he whispered, his panic slowly rising the more he realized that he wasn’t hallucinating. This was, in fact, reality. And wasn’t that just a bitch?

Michael scrambled back to the room and all but vaulted over Alex to get to his phone, his hands shaking as he searched for Liz’s contact information. Alex stirred and Buffy made a low boof from the commotion which just made Alex stir more. Michael froze for a minute. Alex couldn’t see him like this. That was absolutely not even kind of an option.

He ran back to the bathroom and locked the door behind him, sitting on the floor to make sure he didn’t have to look at himself in the mirror again. He didn’t want to see it. But still, he called Liz.

“Mikey?” she said sleepily when she answered, “It’s, like, 6 in the morning. What do you want?”

“What the fuck was in that serum?!” he demanded. She didn’t answer right away. “Well?”

“Michael, you helped me create it. You know what was in it,” she said, a little more awake this time, “Why? What’s going on?”

“I-I-” he said. Michael lifted himself up just a little more to catch sight of his reflection one more time before groaning and falling back to the floor. “All of my hair is gone!”

“What?” Liz demanded.

“I look like a hairless fucking cat,” he whined, staying laid on the floor instead of even trying to face his reflection in the mirror. What the hell was he supposed to do now? He couldn’t let anyone actually see him like this.

“Okay, um, I’ll come over, do some tests, see what went wrong. I don’t understand,” Liz said. Michael whined even louder.

“Michael, are you okay? There’s fucking hair all over the floor, did you shave your head or something?” Alex asked suddenly. Michael’s eyes widened and he put his full weight on the locked door so Alex couldn’t come it.

“Hurry and bring something to fix it,” Michael hissed, ending the call before she could speak. Alex knocked against the door.

“Michael? What’s going on? Do I need to call Kyle?” Alex asked sweetly. Michael simply groaned. Why did he have to be nice? And why did he want to call Kyle, the guy with the ridiculously good hair? He already had Liz coming over and she was basically a fucking hair goddess.

“I’m fine,” Michael told him.

“Well, open up,” he urged, “Let me make sure you’re not, like, going hysterical.”

“Trust me, I wish I was hysterical,” Michael answered, throwing his head back against the door. Except it was bare skin again the cold door with no barrier to soften the blow and he couldn’t help but make a disgusted face. When he rubbed the back of his head, the disgust only got worse. Even that time one of his foster families shaved his head didn’t feel as bad as this.

Alex, however, was being suspiciously quiet for a suspicious amount of time. It wasn’t like him to just fold so easy and Michael put his ear to the door to see what was going on. Which is when the door clicked unlocked and started to push open. Michael pushed on it as hard as he could.

“Michael.”

“Don’t come in!”

“You’re worrying me, tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m fine! Just-just leave me alone!” Michael told him.

Alex was quiet for a minute before he said in the softest, most ‘I’m only speaking because I’m anxious and my therapist said I need to talk about my feelings when that happens’ voice ever, “I don’t like this.”

Michael groaned, his stomach twisting with his internal battle. He was cold and hairless and gross and he wasn’t really ready for Alex to see him like that. In fact, if he never had Alex see him like that, then he would gladly avoid him. But this was stressing Alex out and that made it hard to stay.

“Promise me you won’t laugh,” he said, “Or think I’m ugly and break up with me.”

“What? Why would I ever think you’re ugly?” Alex asked, “Did you shave your head?”

“Um, not exactly,” he said, reaching with his foot to grab a towel to tie around his hips. This was actually freezing. How did people function with no hair?

Eventually, he managed to get over himself, wrapped the towel around his waist, and let Alex open the door. He closed his eyes so he didn’t have to see Alex’s initial reaction. If Alex thought he was ugly, then he probably would never be able to get that image out of his head.

“Okay, what happened?” Alex wondered softly. Michael managed to peel his eyes open. Alex stood, leaning heavily on his crutches with his features schooled as if waiting for more information before he showed any type of reaction.

“I don’t know,” Michael whined, keeping his back to the mirror. He didn’t want to even kind of look at himself. “I just, I got really overheated last night and then I woke up like, like this.”

“Okay, okay,” Alex said softly, stepping closer, “It’s okay.”

“I look disgusting.”

Alex rolled his eyes, finally showing some reaction.

“You do not.” Michael glared at him. “Okay, look, it’s a little different, but it’s, not, like horrible.”

“It’s horrible.”

“No, it’s not.”

“I have no body hair. At all. I look like a pre-pubescent boy who stuck his head in Nair,” Michael shot back. Alex grimaced.

“Okay, don’t say that, that makes me feel gross for still finding you attractive.” Michael’s shoulders relaxed a little.

“You still think I’m attractive?” he asked. Alex rolled his eyes again.

“Michael, I love you for you, not for your looks. Sure, it’s an... adjustment, but you aren’t ugly or gross,” he promised, moving closer. He kept both of his crutches in clutch and leaned in to kiss his cheek. Somehow, it still didn’t make him feel any more secure. “Now, I’m gonna go call Liz.”

“I already did, she’s on her way,” Michael said. Alex nodded.

“Good. Now get out of my bathroom, get dressed, and clean up the hair,” he said. Michael nodded and left the bathroom.

Michael avoided the three mirrors that were in the bedroom like the plague as he made his way to the closet to get dressed. Typically, he liked the mirrors. He liked them a lot. Right now, though, he wanted to forget. He put on socks that covered his smooth calves, his only pair of jeans with no holes, a t-shirt, a button up, and topped it off by stealing one of Alex’s beanies that he pulled down to wear his eyebrows used to be.

Then he went to sweep up the hair which hurt him a lot more than he expected. It felt like a special kind of torture knowing that he just had to deal with it. He was mournful and achy about the entire thing. He wanted his hair back.

Once he got it all in the dust pan and in the trash, he collapsed back in bed. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so low. Or the last time Alex’s compliments didn’t make him feel better. This was truly his rock bottom.

“You look so sad,” Alex sighed as he came back into the room, sitting at the bench on the foot of the bed to put on his prosthetic. “Do I say I told you so now or later?”

“Never,” Michael grumbled into the pillow. If he stayed there, nothing could get worse. “Please, never.”

He heard Alex stand up and walk to the side of the bed, patting him on the ass as he kissed his hat-covered head. His hairless, hairless head.

“I’m gonna go let Buffy out and make some coffee and then Liz should be here and we’ll figure it out, okay?” Alex said, still sounding sweet instead of condescending despite the fact that he knew he wanted to say he told him so. Because he had. They all had. It was going to bite him in the ass, they said. He just hadn’t expected it to be so bad.

“Okay,” Michael agreed, still not moving. He didn’t want to.

“You poor, poor baby.”

Michael laid in bed for awhile, trying to distract himself as best he could from the fact he felt like a newborn baby. Or a mannequin. Or both. He groaned and rolled onto Alex’s side of the bed to try and get rid of that horrible feeling in his stomach. He didn’t even let himself think about work in the morning.

Eventually, the smell of coffee came closer with the sound of two pairs of footsteps. With it came the crushing embarrassment of having not one, but two witnesses to the way he looked. And to think, he thought he was done with embarrassment after the fifth time he went to school with bruises back in Albuquerque.

“Tell him he looks fine,” Alex said. Liz snorted slightly.

“Michael, it’s really not that big of a deal. I mean, you didn’t really have eyebrows to begin with and that’s the major thing that makes someone look weird,” Liz explained. He lifted his head just enough to glare at her. She sighed and came closer. “You know, after Rosa died and I left town, I cut all my hair off and I felt really ugly too.”

“That’s not the same thing. You did that on purpose. I didn’t want this,” Michael explained.

“Yeah, okay, but it’ll be okay. I mean, look, let me check your vitals. If it just made your hair fall out and didn’t effect your hair follicles, it’ll just looked like you shaved it in, like, a week. It’ll grow back, it’s just hair,” Liz told him. He still pouted. “It’ll grow back.”

“I feel naked.”

“Yeah, well, you like being naked,” Alex pointed out. Michael sighed. “Look, it just feels this bad because it’s new. I promise you, you’ll feel better after you get used to it. I did whenever I had to shave my head for basic.”

“You promise?” he said.

“I promise. This is as low as you’ll feel,” he said. Michael reluctantly sat up.

“I’ll hold you to it.”

He let himself be dragged into the kitchen where Alex gave him coffee and doused him in kisses. Liz took his vitals and a blood sample. The little check-up proved that he was basically back to normal, just hairless. But there was no obvious sign that it was going to affect his hair growth in the future which did make him feel a little better.

“So, as far as I can tell, your blood pressure dropped so low that that your body over-corrected by spiking your blood pressure. And, because your alien genes are insane, instead of gradual hair loss, it just all fell out at once. And I’m assuming it’s only because it got so high,” Liz explained. Michael let out a sigh and Alex pressed a kiss to his neck.

“See? I told you, you’re fine,” Alex told him.

“I think this is the most PDA I’ve ever seen you give, Alex,” Liz said with a smile.

“He’s only doing it to make me feel better,” Michael said. Alex hummed and pressed another kiss to the side of his head.

“You know me so well,” he cooed. Michael rolled his eyes and managed a smile.

“Right, well, I’ll let you know if anything weird happens when I look at your blood sample and just keep me updated on your hair re-growth. Maybe I can try to make a hair gr—“

“Nope. I’m gonna retire being a lab rat for a little while,” Michael said. He didn’t even have to look at Alex to know he was happy about that choice. “Maybe let’s stick to actually looking for something useful and then we’ll talk?”

“Okay, I can get behind that,” Liz agreed, holding her hand for Michael to shake.

That night, Michael found himself back in bed and laying on Alex’s chest. It felt weird to feel his breath on his bare scalp, but he did feel a little more comfortable over all. It was slightly easy to forget how he looked as long as he didn’t have to look at it.

“I am gonna miss playing with your hair, though,” Alex whispered, rubbing his head gently.

“I’m gonna miss you playing with my hair,” he said. Alex responded by kissing him which was a very weird sensation. Definitely not a bad one, but a weird one. “Maybe I’ll grow back eyebrows this time.”

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up,” Alex laughed. Michael smiled and turned over, trying his best to get comfortable with his nose pressed into his collarbone. Alex, in turn, grabbed his chin and pulled him into a kiss. The kiss deepened just a little and Alex grabbed the side of his face. “Your ears are so cold.”

“Right?” Michael said, pulling out of the kiss to look at him, “Like, my entire head is fucking freezing since I took your hat off.”

“Aw, my poor baby,” Alex said, his pout slowly slipping into a laugh, “C’mere, I’ll warm you up.”

Michael laughed his way through it as Alex pulled his face into his neck and wrapped his arms around his head. It was warmer, he couldn’t lie. So, he snuggled up to him, feeding off of his body heat for once.

“Okay, this started as a joke, but I’m actually warm and comfy,” Michael said, his voice muffled against Alex’s skin. Alex gave a soft, tired laugh.

“I’ve got you,” Alex said, “Also I like that your legs are so smooth, is that what it feels like to sleep with a girl?”

“Alex, you’ve slept in the same bed as girls multiple times.”

“I didn’t feel their legs with my foot, that’s weird.”

“You’re doing it do me.”

“You’re my boyfriend, leave me alone.”

“I refuse to leave you alone, I would quite literally glue myself to you before I leave you alone.”

“Fine, get the glue, bro.”

“Did you just call me bro while we’re literally in bed together?”

“Yeah, man, how’s it feel?”

“You are so mean to me.”

Alex snorted and kissed his forehead softly. “I love you.”

Michael smiled and burrowed in a little closer. “I love you too.”

Truth be told, the best discovery that came with losing his hair was how comforting it was to just huddle up to Alex like a cat all times and using the excuse of being cold. He did it even when he wasn’t cold. He did it even when his hair grew back. He did it even when their new experiments gave him completely new side effects

If that ever annoyed Alex, well, he never said anything. So Michael just never stopped.

#malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #my fic #ps i'm not saying bald people are ugly #but i do know as someone who cherishes their hair i would have a mental breakdown if i woke up hairless #including my body hair tbh #my entire self esteem is tied to my hair #which is more of a me problem #why am i talking about my problems in the tags instead of in the fic like usual

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soyforramen · 4 years

Text

Fatherhood

“Why does he matter so much to you?” Penny hissed. “He’ll never make up for your own failure of a father.”

Beyond her Fred lay crumpled in a heap. The attack had been so sudden he hadn’t even had a chance to shift, his human form broken from the impact with the alley’s brick wall. A thick, dark puddle formed around his head and Jughead prayed to a non-existent god that Fred make it through, even if he didn’t.

Penny’s hand squeezed, hard. Spots danced around him as he gasped, but instead of drawing breath his lungs spasmed in vain. The undead may have little use for normal bodily functions, but even they had a need for air.

“You’re not even his child,” she taunted. A grin spread across her face, too wide to be human. “Just some orphaned leech he brought in to temper that mongrel bastard of his. Such a gutter rat like you has no -“

A blinding flash and a sound like a firecracker flying through the air cut her off. Penny slammed into him, her grip lost. The smell of burning flesh and hair raced through his aching throat and he coughed hard enough to retch. Another flash threw Penny away from him.

The air around him popped and hissed with heat. Jughead crawled towards Fred as embers fell around him, leaving scorched stars along his skin. An unseen hand yanked him the rest of the way, the rattling of a spray can thundering through his ears.

He watched, helpless, as Betty pulled a roll of plastic, one of her stencils, he realized, from her ever present satchel. She set it down and he watched, detached, as she sprayed a fine mist over it. The scent of cedar and cinnamon clawed at his raw throat. When the can was empty a dull glow surrounded them, bringing with it an unheard hum felt in his bones.

“Don’t leave the light,” Betty cautioned. Before Jughead could respond she’d already turned to Fred, vials and bandages appearing from her pockets to litter the ground around them.

An enraged howl yanked Jughead’s attention back to Penny. Half of her face had burnt off, leaving a dark patch where her eye should have been.

Still barely able to breathe, Jughead shoved himself further away from Penny.

“What is she?” Betty asked through clenched teeth.

She poured an acidic, green liquid onto a bandage and pressed it against Fred’s head. While her voice was steady, one glance showed her terror. Her eyes were wide and every muscle was tensed, ready for a fight. Even over the soft thrum of magic he could hear her racing heartbeat and shallow breath. A wave of protective instinct washed over him and he forced himself to sit up.

“Inner hell demon,” he rasped.

“Circle?”

Penny ran headfirst towards them only to stop short by an invisible wall. A noise like a gong chimed around them, coating the area around them with a strange, calming tone.

The noise rattled Jughead’s senses and the scene around him melted into puddles of hot wax.

Penny gasped as if in pain and jerked herself away.

“I don’t …”

Enraged, Penny ran towards them again and again, she was stopped by the tone. The noise snapped the world around him back into focus and he tried to clear his head. Down the alley, towards the street proper, heads began to turn.

The gong rattled in his head and Jughead couldn’t help the laughter bubbling up in his chest. Everything was just as it should be, he realized. He was where he should be.

“Jughead,” Betty swam into his vision. Her disheveled hair formed a halo around her, the pink on her cheeks as soft as the morning dew on a peony. “Jughead stay with me.”

He grinned, all his muscles relaxing at the sight of her, finally understanding why so many poets wrote of -

Reality slapped him across his cheek and the world righted itself by twenty degrees as the light around him faded. Across from his Betty was shaking out her hand.

His head clearer, Jughead sat up and looked around. Penny, no longer hiding her claws and horns, circled them like a shark. She cradled her puckered face and threw curses towards them.

“I’m so sorry, Juggie,” Betty said breathlessly, typing rapidly on her phone. “I’ve never done that spell with any other than witches and humans, I had no idea how it would affect -“

The tone rattled around them again and Penny’s inharmonic screams scraped the inside of his skull until the world turned black.

(I totally fell in love with how spells were cast in Devil May Cry and borrowed the idea for this fic.)

#bughead drabble challenge #fathers #fathers day #for those of yall who need a tag

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hattywatch · 5 years

Text

J. Vesey - Love Songs

Author’s Note: THIS TOOK FOREVER! Honestly who is even surprised at this point. Sorry to the anon who requested this a million years ago; I hope you get to see it?! Message me and let me know if you liked it!! Based on “I Hate Love Songs” by Kelsea Ballerini

Request: Oh my god, maybe a friends to lovers with jimmy? you've told him in the past that you were interested, and he turned you down because he was nervous, so now you're really good friends and have gotten more comfortable being touchy and whatever, and then he realizes that he needs to marry you!!

Looking up would surely help the tears not spill, you think you read that somewhere. You blink rapidly; it does clear most of the water from your eyes. But not before your cousin notices.

"You're so fucking soft, (Y/N)."

You give an unladylike snort through your nose and pat your under eye gently with a tissue.

Slapping your hand across his chest, all you can respond with is a quick, "Shut up, Kev," before the bride and groom begin the recessional back down the aisle as man and wife.

Jimmy starts in on you from the other side of Kevin, "What are you even crying for? Shouldn't you be happy?"

Far be it from you to explain actual human emotion to Jimmy, so you settle for rolling your eyes.

By the time you make it through cocktail hour, Kevin, your actual date, is off making eyes at the pretty bridesmaid with the colorful sleeve of tattoos and you're left at the bar alone, emptying your purse of singles in an attempt to sway the handsome bartender in your favor for the rest of the evening.

When a hand grazes the small of your back, touching bare skin in your backless dress, you peek over your shoulder expecting to see Kevin, but it's Jimmy who's leaning into your ear.

"Hey, use your powers for good and get me a beer. I don't want to wait in line." The bartender sees your new companion as he places your champagne in front of you. He raises his eyebrows, a silent ask if he can get you anything else, and you give in and order Jimmy's beer, shoving it at him while throwing a smile over your shoulder back towards the bartender.

He keeps his hand where it is and steers you back to a table, you plop down, happy to be off of your feet since your heels are way more beautiful than they are practical. But before Jimmy sits he reaches into his pocket and pulls out your escort card.

"I grabbed yours too," he hands it over to you and you lean down to start unstrapping your heels, mumbling a thank you, mostly towards the floor. "Why do you wear those things if you can't even handle them for an hour?"

You've succeeded in kicking off your shoes and you wiggle your toes, now free from their confines and clink glasses with Jimmy as he brings his beer up to his lips. "Because they make my ass look fantastic," you bring your champagne to your mouth and sip, always thoroughly enjoying catching Jimmy off guard. He wasn't ready to laugh and is sputtering and choking on his beer for a second before he catches his breath and looks away.

He's focused on Kevin making a fool of himself on the dance floor, always the life of the party, so you take a moment to watch Jimmy, undisturbed.

He's been around as long as Kevin has. The two of them somehow related in the same way every kid from Boston who plays hockey is somehow a distant cousin.

You're related to Kevin too, on the other side of the family, obviously.

You remember the first time you saw Jimmy, young and skinny. Quick on his skates, but always ready to unleash his smart mouth and drop gloves no matter how big the other guy was. You admired that about him. He was probably your first crush. Well, your first real crush who wasn't like, Zack Morris.

He was different then, more red faced and shy. He'd really grown into himself. You check to make sure his gaze is still on Kevin, and when you notice it is, you give Jimmy a good once over.

Objectively, he's average looking, you know this; your friends didn't really understand the appeal when you've shown them photos. His lips are thin, but you know first hand that his smirk is devastating and on the rare occasion that he smiles, your heart nearly stops. He's still looks slim- almost gangly, or so you had believed until you caught him on the beach with Kevin earlier in the summer, all lean muscle, freckled from the sun.

It's not like you have a crush on him anymore. But you know that you'll always have a soft spot for your first love, even if it wasn't reciprocated- which he made really clear the summer before your senior year of high school. The memory still makes you shudder with embarrassment.

Jimmy finally looks away from Kevin and speaks up pulling you from your daydreams, "I don't get this whole thing," he waves his hand around, at the room in general. You're not sure what he means, so you just tip your head sideways and motion for him to continue. "Seems like a lot of pomp and circumstance to prove you love someone." You get it, you really do, but he's so cynical that you have to laugh.

"Jimmy, sometimes when two people really like each other," he hits you with an eye roll, "they just wanna shout it from the rooftops."

It's at this point that Kevin decides to take a break from dancing and sink down into the chair beside you.

"I think I'm in love," his eyes are still focused on the bridesmaid, leading the group of flower girls and the ring bearer through the cha cha slide.

You look at lovelorn Kev and turn your hand upwards while eyeing Jimmy, "Case and point, my friend."

Jimmy drinks deeply from his beer and drains it. "Had about enough of you softies," he gets up and heads over to the bar. You know he's kidding, but you feel deeply bad that Jimmy hasn't experienced this type of love yet.

Another champagne will probably help.

Kevin gets up with you to head back over to the cute bartender, but Jimmy intercepts you on your way, pushing a new, full glass at you. You raise your eyebrows, impressed, but accept it with a thank you.

Kevin balks, "Dude, hello?" He holds up his empty hands and Jimmy tips his glass towards Kevin and shrugs a shoulder, "Bar's that way. Cheers, bro."

Once the DJ succeeds in filling up the dance floor after dinner, you join in, too buzzed and high on ~~love~~ to care about your goofy dancing.

When the DJ calls up the bride and groom for their first dance as husband and wife you're back to tears streaming freely down your face, standing barefoot on the side of the dance floor next to Jimmy. Kev having walked off with the bridesmaid to do shots at the bar.

"Would you stop crying? You're a mess, kid." Jimmy drops his arm over your shoulder and pulls you into his side.

"I'm fine! I'm fine, totally okay, don't worry about me!" You manage to wipe away your tears and smile up at him, but then the DJ announces a good luck dance, and invites all the couples to the dance floor, "each couple on the dance floor is an extra year of good luck for our bride and groom, folks. Grab a partner and join us here to celebrate the new Mr and Mrs!"

You give a cursory glance for Kevin, but the flat leaver had already pulled Jo onto the floor and she has her tattooed arms wrapped up and around his neck, her head drooped forward on his shoulder, laughing at something he's whispering into her ear, trying to be heard over Unchained Melody.

Jimmy must feel you sigh, "C'mon," he nudges you forward with the arm that's wrapped around your shoulders.

Shocked wouldn't begin to cover the emotion that bubbles out of your chest. "Jimmy stop, you hate dancing, you don't have to," you protest pretty weakly, but still follow him onto the floor though.

"It's fine (y/n). Three minutes won't kill me. Just turn off the water works, yeah?" You tell him you'll try your best and place your hands delicately onto his shoulders, pushing yourself up, up, up onto your tiptoes to sway side to side with him.

"God, I hate this fucking song," you can't help but laugh because he's such a grump and it's really a nice song.

"You're a spoil sport, Jim." The eyeroll he gives you is real and you're sure he's about to launch into a tirade about the bridal industry, so you change the subject.

"Kev's gonna kick me out of our room tonight isn't he?" Both you and Jimmy have a close eye on Kevin and his new lady love.

That does it, you get a rare Jimmy smile- he actually laughs-, and you feel warm down to your toes with it.

"Yeah, yeah definitely. That's a good assessment."

_________

The next morning you wake up to the snoring coming from the other side of the room and you groan, rolling over. Bless Jimmy's heart for giving you the bed. He looks uncomfortable and smushed on the pull out couch clearly not designed for someone of his height.

Grabbing a change of clothes, Jimmy’s- since your bag is still firmly locked in your room with Kevin and Jo- you escape into the bathroom to wash your face and change. Your hair looks like a rat's nest, so you grab Jimmy's hat on your way out as well as the key card he gave you last night, and head down to the lobby; you're sure you saw a Starbucks down there.

Of course you see Kevin in line, somehow looking more rumpled than you are. You sidle up next to him and bump him with your hip. "Good night there, Hayes?"

"You have no idea," Kev still sounds sleepy and you're so happy he had a good night, because you know he's been feeling a little down since his brother got married, wondering when he'd have something like that of his own.

It seems to hit him that he sexiled you last night as he slinked off the dance floor wrapped up in Jo.

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry," he looks chagrined, so you let it go.

"No sweat. Jimmy let me stay with him." You turn back to the board over your head, trying to figure out what you want to order, but Kevin rounds on you.

"Sooooo… did you have a good night?" He's wagging his eyebrows at you as he nods towards your outfit and your ears feel hot.

"Shut up. You know it wasn't like that." He places his order and slides down so you can place yours.

"Yeah, I know, but it could be worse. You guys would be good together. A guy can't wish happiness for two of his oldest friends?" You decide to not even dignify him with a response and take your drinks before heading back to your room after throwing a chilly sniff over your shoulder. You do give him a little elbow on the way past, though.

Kevin was there that summer, so many years ago. You had thought you and Jimmy were getting closer, bonding while sitting in the stands cheering Kevin on at his games, group trips to the cape on the weekends when he wasn’t at hockey camp. You’d venture to call the two of you friends; friends share beers on the beach and help sunscreen each other's backs.

Finally, towards the end of the summer, right before Kevin was leaving for college, you gathered up some courage. Sat around the bonfire with the last days of freedom closing in, you spot Jimmy. He's finally, blessedly alone and you take a deep breath to steel your nerves.

“Hey Vese…” you cringe because- weird- you never call him that, but you shake it off and sit down next to him. “What up,” he spins his marshmallow around and glances over at you. It’s now or never, “I was just thinking, I know it’s kinda far away, but I’m sure a lot of girls will ask you, so… did you want to maybe… go to prom with me?”

He takes a deep breath and pulls his marshmallow out of the flame and you’re already deflating before he can open his mouth, “I’m not really a prom kind of guy, (y/n)... Sorry.” For what it’s worth, he does look apologetic about it, but you can’t even consider how he’s feeling when you can actively feel your heart drop down to your stomach; now you know why it’s called a crush.

Kevin found you crying back by the bathrooms an hour later and faked a headache so he could drive you home.

By the time you get back up to the room Jimmy's awake, sitting up on the couch, scrolling through his phone, shirtless. You walk over and hand him one of the coffees you picked up before dropping back onto the bed with your own cup.

He takes a sip and finds it to his liking, "Best. Wedding date. Ever." He leans in to fist bump you, and you smile at him and reach out your own hand, yeah he's right, you're pretty awesome.

_________

It takes you by surprise when you receive a text from Jimmy a few months later at the beginning of the summer. It shouldn't, you're both friendly. You’ve seen him over at Kevin’s on Sundays for football and go out to the bar with them every once in a while. You hang out at his family’s pool when everyone is back in Boston and it feels like old times. It’s never weird or awkward, but when his name pops up unannounced on a Wednesday afternoon on your cell, it feels different. Usually you see each other around, but never one on one, it's fine, Totally Fine. But his text still takes you by surprise.

Jimmy: Brady gave me a plus one to the blessed affair… wedding date part 2?

You can’t say no, because you’re long-time buds and Kevin is going to bring Jo and you don't want Jimmy to have to go stag. Plus, you know this wedding is going to be incredible, so it’s really a no brainer when you send back:

Obviously. When?

You could literally smack him when he says that it's a week away. You have nothing to wear and he doesn’t know what color the bridesmaids’ dresses are. That's a mistake you don’t want to make- showing up in the same color, it’s so tacky. When you bring this all up to him his response is the little shrug emoji and you drop your face into your hands and sigh.

Deciding to call Kevin had been a better idea in theory that it was in actual practice.

“Soooo, Jimmy asked you on a date?”

You huff and explain for the third time since he picked up the phone, “No. Kevin. Please try to be helpful."

"I'm helpfully pointing out that you and Jimmy are-"

"I'm going to kill you, Kev. Please just text them and ask so I know what's okay to wear and let me end this fucking nightmare of a conversation." You rub your temples with your thumb and middle finger, feeling a headache coming on.

He laughs and you're glad that someone is finding humor in this situation. It's certainly not you.

When he finally gets back to you it turns out the bridesmaids are in "a soft champagne blush color? I'm reading this verbatim, but fuck if I know what that means," Kevin tells you.

Luckily, you do know what it means. And spend the weekend poring through every store in the mall to find something sleek enough for a wedding where you'll be rubbing elbows with young, eligible men. If it also succeeds I'm making Jimmy regret not taking you to prom… well, that's a bonus. Not that you're still mad or anything.

When you finally find a contender that you like, you decide to use Kevin as your sound board and send him a picture of the dress for approval. He immediately calls you when he receives the photo.

"What's up?" You answer on pins and needles, afraid he's going to tell you it's too over the top for the small, rooftop wedding that Brady is having.

He doesn't even say hello, "Did you show Vese your dress yet?"

"Uh, no. Just you. Why? Is it awful?" You start gnawing on your nail before you remember your manicure and pull your finger from your mouth.

"Nah, you're beautiful, cuz. But send it to him… to uh, make sure it goes with his suit."

Makes sense, "Yeah that's a good idea. Thanks Kev.”

There’s about 4 pictures of you in the dress sitting in your camera roll, but now that you’re supposed to be sending one to Jimmy and not your cousin, none of them really look good enough. It’s stupid and childish, but you sit down at your vanity and fix your hair and make-up before slinking back into the dress and finding a pair of heels.

That’s more like it.

You turn in the mirror and honestly, it’s gorgeous. The blue looks fantastic against your skin. It hugs all the right places, even the cut-outs on the side hit perfectly against your rib-cage and none of your usual bra-fat is an issue; it must have been tailored by witches.

You snap 3 photos, one of the front, one of the side, and one of the back over your shoulder before swallowing and hyping yourself up to text them to Jimmy.

Can I show you the dress I picked and you tell me if it's okay? Kevin said I should show you so you can make sure it matches your suit?

Jimmy: I mean, I’m not really good at that sort of thing, but yeah.

You send them in order- front, side, back and get so inexplicably nervous you have to put your phone down and walk away.

Taking the time to peel the dress off and to gently hang it back up, you end up on your bed in a pair of old shorts and a BC hockey t-shirt, ready to check your texts.

Jimmy: Looks great.

It's an underwhelming answer. But, at least all of your shopping wasn't in vain. You're staring at your phone, scrolling back over your conversation with Jimmy when you see him start typing. You wait for his message to come through, but it doesn't.

He starts typing two more times and stops before you finally get a message.

It's not even a text. In front of you is a photo of him in his suit. It's light grey, and underneath is a crisp white button up with the top 3 buttons undone.

It's certainly a look. And you're not proud to say you saved it to your gallery and zoomed into every pixel. You totally did… but you're not proud to say it.

Jimmy: Do you think this will work with a blue tie

You think it would work with anything and everything, including your bedroom floor, but like, you're not about to say that. So you wuss out and just send a few thumbs up emojis.

It's annoying how you feel like you have to be so careful around Jimmy. If he were any other friend you'd have told him he looks handsome and never thought twice about it, but you just don't want to come off like you're hitting on him. Certainly not ready to have him reject you again.

Jimmy: Awesome. See you Saturday?

Can't wait.

_________

By the time Saturday comes you're all nerves- waking up before your alarm and promptly deciding to put on a face mask so at least you can stay horizontal and relaxed.

It lasts for a while. 20 minutes to be exact, before you peel it off and immediately start stressing before just deciding to get ready so you stop chewing on your manicured fingers.

It's a late afternoon wedding in a chic little church with a reception to follow at an intimate rooftop restaurant. The weather seems to be cooperating, checking your phone the forecast calls for sunny skies, not a cloud in sight.

By the time you're doing your make-up and trying to YouTube-tutorial your hair into a style that looks elegant enough to go with your dress, there's a knock at your door. You jump and accidentally scrape a bobby pin along your scalp while trying to secure a roller in your hair.

"Son of a bitch."

Hustling over to the door, you assume it's your neighbor. Sometimes her cat goes missing and you're pretty much the feline pied-piper.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Dennehy. I can't look for Bootsie right n-"

Swinging the door open mid-sentence in your ripped Cinderella tank top, ratty old shorts, and curlers in your hair, you immediately regret not looking through the peephole. "You are not Mrs. Dennehy."

"Nah. Definitely not." Jimmy steps past you into your place, looking lethal in his suit and tie.

You can't get over it because he's in your space and the room is filled with him, not to mention the fact that you feel like a schlub; hair still in rollers, but at least you finished your make-up.

"That's a good look, (y/n). I mean… I liked the blue dress better, but I don't know much about fashion." Squinting your eyes at him you poke him in the sternum with a pointed finger.

"How the fuck do you even know my address. I thought I was meeting you at Kevin's?" You decide to ignore his jab at your present state.

"I asked Kev. I figured we could go over there together. Him and Jo are still in the mushy honeymoon stage and I love him, but I really want to throat-punch him when I have to witness it firsthand." You nod, because it's a valid point.

You unroll your curlers in the bathroom and are pleased to see that your hair looks decent, successfully mirroring the YouTube video. After hair spraying and sliding your heels on, you pull your dress up over your hips and zip it, leaving the hook and eye at the top undone, since you can never hook it on your own.

"Vese?" Jimmy appears at your bedroom door a moment later, one eyebrow raised.

"I hate when you call me that." You know this.

"Yeah, but it always gets a reaction," you smile and spin around so your back is facing him. "Can you clasp the top of this please and then I'm ready to go, I swear!"

It seems like an okay idea until you feel the whisper of his fingertips over the nape of your neck and you feel your flesh turn to goosebumps, and you realize you're about to have a very long evening.

________

The wedding is beautiful. They wrote their own vows and it has you fanning your eyes trying to keep the tears at bay before they've even kissed as man and wife. Jimmy laughs when he looks over and sees you blinking rapidly, trying to save your mascara.

"You cry at everything, huh?" He deserves the elbow you throw into his ribs.

When the ceremony is over and the bubbles have been blown, a limo whisks away the bridal party for photos, while Kevin and Jimmy lead the way to the reception venue. Kevin has his arm wrapped firmly around Jo's waist and you catch the sidelong glance Jimmy gives as if to say see what I mean?

It's only a few blocks away, but in heels you're wobbly at best. So when you stumble over a dip in the sidewalk, he takes your hand and tucks it into the crook of his elbow.

"You're a fuckin' hazard in those shoes. Look at you." He shakes his head, but you start in, smiling cheekily up at him, "Yeah but they make-"

"-they make your ass look fantastic. I know."

Kevin must hear Jimmy talking, because he looks over and furrows his eyebrows.

"Keep your eyes off my cousin's ass, Vesey." Jimmy responds with a delicate fuck you, Kev that has all of you laughing.

___________

All four of you are tipsy before the cocktail hour ends and the bride and groom make their appearance- all effervescently in love and wind-blown from taking photos on the beach.

You blubber through their first dance, you and Jo holding each other through it- and laughing at how silly you both are- before tapping your champagne flutes and getting Brady to lay a big smooch on his bride.

It's a few more champages that has you kicking your shoes off and dragging Jimmy onto the dance floor to stumble through the electric slide and (a thankfully abridged version of) the cotton eyed Joe. He shucked his jacket hours ago when you found your table and the tie followed soon after, shoved into your purse so he doesn't lose it. He looks loose and happy, surrounded by friends and glowing with summer.

When you hear the familiar snaps of Single Ladies, it seems like a great idea to stay on the dance floor with the other women to try to catch the stupid bouquet Gracia is chucking over her head. It stops seeming like a great idea the second your hands close around the bouquet and you feel the lace between your fingers.

Jo jumps up and down next to you, screeching and laughing in your ear with a gentle refrain of ooooh and you're next! sprinkled in from the other girls, congratulating you on the way back to their seats.

The DJ brings a chair over next to his booth and you plop down, happy to be off of your feet, but increasingly antsy when you see the swell of bachelors on the dance floor. Brady apparently only has very handsome friends- birds of a feather, obviously. There's a handful you're sure are NHL players and you are slightly worried about the cellulite they'd feel high up on your thighs.

When the garter is inevitably flung, it's Kevin's height that gives him the advantage. It doesn't occur to you that he has absolutely no business being on the dance floor at all, since he's surely not trying to feel up his own cousin. Not to mention Jo- she's standing about 4 feet to your left, her camera trained on Kevin.

They're no good terrible people. You're certain of this when you watch in slow motion as Kevin reaches up and stops the garter's trajectory and as falls directly down onto Jimmy. Jo has caught the whole charade on video it seems, since she's cackling in delight, the traitor.

Jimmy accepts a handful of pats on the back, and walks over towards you looking downright twitchy. You know somewhere in the background there's plenty of hooting and hollering, but someone's wolf whistle finally pulls you from your internal panic and you can hear the slinky intro to “Dress” start up.

The DJ is talking into the microphone and Jimmy seems to be paying attention to what his job is, namely- sliding the garter in his hand as far up your leg as you'll allow. You'd take the red flush on his face as a compliment at literally any other time, but your hands are clammy and you're sure your face is giving off more heat than the sun. It isn't until Jimmy kneels down in front of you that you realize the DJ has stopped talking and this is about to happen.

All of this silence and patience, pining in anticipation / My hands are shaking from holding back from you

You quickly decide that this may be the one and only time you'll get to feel him all over your bare skin, so after a deep breath, you meet his eyes, give an encouraging smile, uncross your legs and drop your foot into his waiting hands.

He huffs out a breath, which sounds suspiciously akin to "Fuckin' Kevin," but knocks a smile sideways at you and peers at you with his half glassy eyes.

Say my name and everything just stops / I don’t want you like a best friend / Only bought this dress so you could take it off

Jimmy slides the lace garter over your ankle and up your calf, his hands barely brushing to your knee before he pulls them out from under your dress, but the crowd won't let him off so easily. You're sure it's Jo who leads a "high-er, high-er" chant and you laugh, because if you don't laugh, you might cry.

"Our friends are idiots," he sighs out. You smile and shake your head yes.

"They really are, but they're not going to let you out of this, Vese," you lift your foot off the ground and shake it at him until he takes it back in his hand and lifts your dress up with the other before wrapping both around your knee and gently pushing the garter up higher; hands slowly dragging the scratchy lace up your thigh. The slit on the dress is pretty high, so everyone can see the moment his hands slide underneath, finally hidden from their view.

His fingers are scarcely touching your skin, but you know you're covered in goosebumps. When you make eye contact this time, it has you feeling more exposed than the fact that his hands are inches from your panties.

Just when you're surely about to explode, he lets go of the garter and slides his hands back down your thigh, teasing over your calf and down to your ankle before placing your foot on the floor and standing, offering you his hand to help you up.

Deep down you know everyone is clapping, but you desperately want to crawl under a table, sure that you've just spilled the beans about your residual feelings for one of your oldest friends.

________

Jimmy walks you back to your table but you don't wait around, downing your remaining champagne and scampering off in search of the bar. That's where Jo finds you, sidles up next to you, and drops a five in the tip jar before handing her flute over to the bartender.

"Honestly, you know I love the shit out of you, right?" You already don't like where this is going, but you nod anyway.

"If you two don't fuck tonight I'm going to die from the tension." This is why you love the shit out of her right back.

"Let's go dance?" She downs her drink and leaves the glass on the bar, following you back to the dance floor until dinner is called. The DJ transitions into smooth jazz and some old standards, quieting the party down to eat.

You have no choice, and during dinner you sit down primly next to Jimmy, antsy and nervous to sit too close, your elbow knocking against his and making you jump each time. Both of you knowing the feel of each other's skin.

Brady's grandparents get up and start dancing together, finished with their dinner. It's beautiful how they hold each other close after being together for so long and it has you feeling misty all over again, turned sideways in your chair eyes trained on the dance floor.

When Unchained Melody starts up the metallic clank of a fork on a plate next to you has your eyes jerking over and away from the dance floor.

"C'mon hotshot," Jimmy stands, so tall and lean, looking down at you with his hands in his pockets, head tipped towards the dance floor, and who are you to say no.

You can hear Jo's 'Get it girl!' And you wish you could kill her here, maybe suffocate her with a damned dinner roll.

"What gives? Sick of seeing me cry?" You place your hands on Jimmy's shoulders but it feels too stilted, his hands have already raked up your thighs, so fuck it, you wind them around his neck, pulling him a little closer than you should.

"Nah. It's our song," his grip at your waist tightens and you can barely breathe, but he clears his throat and adds, "Tradition."

You know the grin you lay on him is glowing, your cheeks ache with it, but it's Jimmy and you'd suffer through a lot more for him. When he twirls you under his arm, you know you're fucked and the feelings that you've been doing your best to shake off are going nowhere fast.

Jimmy doesn't leave your side the rest of the night. Dancing with you and smiling, singing along under his breath.

When he drops you at your apartment later, he kisses you on the cheek after helping you fumble with your key, but he doesn't turn around on his way to the elevator, so you sleep alone that evening. If you keep the garter on, no one is any wiser for it.

_________

It's a beautiful day and you're dining al fresco, happy to have the sun on your skin, but happier with the food in front of you. The company, well… it leaves something to be desired.

"You guys are hot for each other and just need to bang already. Please. Even Kevin agrees and he's your cousin. Gross." You don't want to hash out your history again, living it out once was enough.

"Jo, no. Stop, it isn't like that!" It's girls' day. A week or so after Brady's wedding Jo had texted to see what you were doing and invited you out for lunch. So here you are, having to revisit the traumas of your youth with your cousin's girl.

"Can you just? Not? Like he texts you every day, and has been to two weddings with you-"

"Technically I was Kevin's date to the first one," you interject and pop a piece of pineapple into your mouth.

She carries on without even acknowledging you, "What is your hang up? Just tell him you're interested. You're cute and fun and you have all the same friends. It's a match made in heaven."

You don't want to get into the prom story, but you think it will get her to take a little pity on you and make her to stop, so you decide to clue her in.

"We've been down that road before." She looks intrigued and waves her hand for you to continue, so you do, regaling her with the whole embarrassing story.

".... and then I finally built up the courage, after all of that, to ask him to go with me to prom and all he can respond is that he's 'not really a prom kind of guy' seriously?" You let out a sigh, all keyed up and anxious again, on the brink of tears as if it all happened 5 minutes prior and not over 5 years ago.

Jo puts her glass down on the table with a clank, "Um. So?" You literally can't believe what you're hearing and stare at her blankly, blinking and waiting for her to understand.

"What do you mean 'so?' Why would I put myself out there, AGAIN- to have it not be reciprocated? Are you crazy?” Surely Jo doesn't get it.

"Babe, that was a LONG time ago. Let it go. Not everyone dreams of a romantic evening at prom. You know how Jimmy is. He's not about that kind of thing." You scoff loudly, and before you can even open your mouth to combat her she continues, "BUT, he danced with you at both weddings. Got you drinks from the bar, and he participated in the STEAMIEST garter toss I have ever, in my life, witnessed. He likes you. What more do you need to see it?"

You mull her words around in your head for a while as she looks on, rather content with herself, it appears.

"I just don't know if I can put myself through that again. Admitting to you that I like him is hard enough. Imagine if I had to say something to his face?!"

All Jo does is nod, "I get where you're coming from. I think you're stupid, but I get it." She pats you on the hand probably more out of pity than comfort, but you'll take what you can get.

______

Kevin asks you to meet him at the bar a few days later. "Watch a Sox game and have a few drinks with me," it sounds great and low-key, so you say yes.

You come straight from work, emotionally disheveled from a long day, but dressed nice enough for it not to matter too much.

When you walk through the door and peer around you feel like you've been shanghaied.

Kev is there all right. Sat snugly next to Jo on one side of the booth. You don't have to walk over to know who's facing Kevin and Jo, the hat on his head giving it away.

You slide into the only available seat in the booth, right next to Jimmy. If you kick Kevin on your way in, well, these things happen sometimes.

When Jimmy looks over at you and smiles confusedly, you're sure it's a set up.

"Didn't know you were coming, (y/n)!" He seems genuinely happy to see you, which makes your heart trip in your chest, before beating double.

Kevin has this shit eating grin on his face and you know your evening is about to go to hell in a handbasket. "We were just talking about the old days. Feelin' a little nostalgic."

If you could, you'd leave as quickly as you came, but it doesn't seem like an option you have at the moment.

"I was just telling the boys how I lost my v-card at prom to my first boyfriend. He just had a baby! How far we've come," Jo looks at you with a playful smile on her lips and if you didn't think you'd end up kicking Jimmy in the process, she could catch a foot to the shin as well.

"I wouldn't know about that Jo, where's the waiter?" You didn't really want to drink on a Thursday, but if this was how the night was about to go, who could really blame you?

He pops up and you all place your orders, but it doesn't give you the break in the conversation you were hoping for.

Jo sips her drink and plows on, "You didn't lose it at prom?" she asks, like it's the most normal question in the world. Jimmy's sipping his Guinness and you want to cover your face and slide down under the table, but all you can do is shrug.

"I didn't go to prom, actually," deciding to avoid the question completely. That has Jimmy looking over at you.

"Yes you did," he says it so surely. "You went with Brian."

Well, that's interesting.

"I think I'd know if I went to prom or not. My memory isn't that bad, Vese." He wrinkles his nose at the nickname.

"I hate that and you know it." You smile snidely back at him, still hoping the waiter will get you out of this conversation.

"No, you did. I heard him at hockey practice. He said he was asking you." Jimmy's sat sideways in the booth, all his attention on you and it's overwhelming.

"I mean, he did ask. But I said no." That's when the waiter finally drops your food off.

It's really smooth how Kevin gets up to use the bathroom and Jo gets up a moment later to 'fix her lipstick.'

It's quiet when they leave, you're doing your damnedest to sip your water and focus on the game, but Jimmy clears his throat and nudges you with his knee.

"I, uh, really thought you went with Brian." He is just barely glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

"I didn't want to go with him. He was kind of a douche." Jimmy turns to you, his thigh pressed all the way against yours.

"All the girls liked him, though," he's aiming for detached nonchalance, but he's rolling his beer between his palms and that gives him away.

Maybe it's starting to make sense now.

"Yeah, the dumb ones," you smile and decide maybe Jo is right, and it has been years and your day can't really get worse and you've already made it this far.

You take the chance to steal a french fry off of his plate and idly wonder how long it takes Kevin to pee or Jo to fix her lipstick. "I wanted to go with someone else. I asked, but you know…"

It's Jimmy who sighs this time. "I guess I was pretty dumb back then too."

"I mean, you went to Harvard, so how dumb can you really be, James." You set your sights on Kevin's fries, because fuck him, it's really the least he could do right now.

"So," Jimmy stops and exhales loudly, "this is embarrassing, but," he pauses and looks at you.

You place your hand on his knee and tap it patronizingly, "You weren't shot down asking someone to prom, so how embarrassing could it really be?"

"Touche, but for the record- I only said no because I figured you'd rather go with him." Your jaw drops in its best impression of a trout. "I just didn't want to get my hopes up only for you to change your mind when he asked you."

"You're right, Vesey. You are dumb," he gives you that little half smirk of his, and you quickly realize your hand is still on his knee.

The look on his face is definitely what people envision when they use the phrase "making eyes at," but of course this is when Kevin and Jo make their grand return, and you pull your hand back into your own lap as quickly as possible.

The rest of the dinner is quiet. Casual small talk over the din of the game. When Kevin and Jo decide they want to head home, you stand too, ready to take your leave.

Jimmy gently grabs at your wrist. "I'm going to have another beer, wanna stay with me?" You hug Kevin and Jo goodbye and blatantly ignore the wink she gives you. Jimmy waves at them but walks off towards the men's room and you take the chance to flip Jo and Kevin off while he's not looking. They laugh and give you a thumbs up while heading to the door.

Deciding to relocate to the bar, you climb up onto a stool at the end of the counter and wait for Jimmy to return.

He does, wiping his damp hands on his pants; he stands next to you. "I didn't know what you were drinking or I would have ordered it for you," you tell him, peering up as he towers over you.

"Oh, no. I'm good to go. I just wanted them to leave so we could talk alone. Is it okay if we go to my place?"

Sneaky little shit.

______

When you said yes, you didn't think about the five floor walk up Jimmy lives in. "Don't the Rangers pay you enough to live in a building with an elevator?" He laughs, not at all out of breath like you are, the bastard.

You've been here of course, but never alone. Never just you and Jimmy.

Everything seems very real, very quickly. You wish you had opted for a little liquor at the bar, you could use any courage you could get, Dutch or otherwise.

Kicking your shoes off, you sit down on Jimmy's couch. He plops down next to you, more comfortable since he has the home team advantage.

"I really wanted to go with you." You're surprised he just blurted it out like that. He doesn't follow it up with a 'but' or any excuses at all, and it sends your heart soaring in your chest.

"If I had known you didn't want to go with Brian, I would have said yes when you asked." He's looking down at his hands, but speaking slow and steady. "I know it was so long ago, but I just feel like I want you to know that."

Jimmy's confession is making your skin tingle with heat, but he's still sitting there, looking so hesitant. It bolsters you. He chooses that moment to look up at you and you can't help but grin- a wide, cheesy thing.

"You like me," his face instantly flames. He attempts to stutter out a response which really cements it in your head.

Without letting him respond, you continue, "No. It wasn't a question. It was a statement. You like me." He bites his lip and nods.

"Yeah. I just… you know how I am. With feelings and stuff." And you do know.

He's like Ron Weasley, emotional range of a teaspoon. But you, you make him stutter and blush and that's not something you think you'll ever get over.

You're sort of torn between smacking him for putting you through all this and tearing off all of his clothes, so you settle somewhere in the middle and turn to kiss him straight on the mouth.

He was about to say something so when you catch him mid-word your teeth clash and you back off apologizing profusely.

"So aggressive," he laughs and wipes at his lip. "Slow down, we have lots of time now." And he's right, but every second that passes without his lips on yours feels wasted and empty.

"We really don't though," he looks upset and confused, pulling back into himself before you clarify, "I have to be up in the morning so I don't have all night, Vese. Some of us have been patiently waiting for years."

That has him blooming a smile again and you shake with the knowledge that you caused it, but he agrees "Yeah, some of us have been."

_____

It's not the first time Jimmy has stared at you like this, and it probably won't be the last, but right now it's making your eyes water with the sincerity of it.

His hands are on your hips, warm and familiar and your skin tingles under the weight of his palms and your dress.

"Vese," it's the first time the name elicits a smile from him. It may have something to do with the fact that it's his turn to whisper the nickname.

You can't help the smile snaking its way across your face. "It's Mrs.Vese, actually, James." A flash goes off somewhere to your right but you can't be bothered to take your eyes off of your husband.

"I can't believe you chose this song for our first dance," you pull him close so his forehead rests on yours, "you hate this song."

He presses a kiss to your lips, gentle but still eliciting cheers from your audience. "I really do. But you like it, and I love you."

#jimmy vesey fic #jimmy vesey imagine #nyr imagine #jimmy vesey blurb #nhl rpf #new york rangers imagine #new york rangers fic #nyr fic #hockey fic #hockey imagine #writing #this took forever i am so sorry #the song is really nice though by kelsea ballerini #i love it #its so jimmy #so cold to emotions but warm to his beloved #i am tears #happy tears though

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chaoticneutralwriter · 5 years

Text

Worlds Collide

Never in your years of being alive on this shitty rock of a planet did you think you would have the problem of dealing with not one but two demons invading your life now. Here, in this economy, as if you already don’t have enough problems to begin with. Now you’re left with what you see are two choices: go to church and attempt to repent,.... Or get them to stan BTS (hey, it’s the least they can do after stealing two of the member’s identities).

guardian demon! Jimin x reader ft. demon! Jungkook

genre: slice of life, comedy, romance, fluff, supernatural, slow-burn

word count: 7.8k

Related works: see masterlist

In direct continuation of Another Variable

A/N: omggg.... I’m baack....LOLL As pointed out, this picks up right after the installment Another Variable so give that a read before jumping into this! But other than, thank you for the patience and I hope this doesn’t disappoint! sdfkhsdgh

You blink. Hard.

But he doesn’t go away like some sort of spectre or figment of your imagination like you expect him to.

So you try again, vaguely wondering if you’re maybe in some sort of fever dream instead.

Because there’s just no way. No way that this is real.

Dark doe eyes continue to stare back at you, crinkling in obvious amusement, head tilted almost innocently. The shift in his head allows for the faint moonlight seeping through your windows to illuminate the sharp line of his jaw while most of his face is hidden in dark shadows, making his eyes seem to glow eerily. And then like a hawk curiously watching its prey from afar, he tilts his head back slightly to look down his nose at you and to your astonishment, you see those dark orbs shift to take on a more feline, golden haze.

“So you’re her….” His voice vibrates louder in the deafening silence of your darkened room. You find your breath hitching at the sound because it solidifies the reality of his presence. It takes you back to the first time you met Jimin, your mind failing to process that Jeon Jungkook, golden maknae of worldwide South Korean boy band BTS, is standing in your room, eating your chocolate bar in all of his most-likely-six-pack wielding, 5’10” glory.

The toothy bunny grin he’s sporting threatens to widen and it would be cute any other time had it not been for the tinge of devious intent oozing from it. He sets down the candy treat before he moves, taking advantage of your stunned state to stalk forward, long legs making it so that he closes the distance between you with ease. You jump start with a gasp, your own pair of legs struggling to function and you stumble as you step back. You’re half falling backwards and half fighting to stay upright until you unintentionally slam back against the wall of the hallway. Before you can scramble away, a hand shoots out to grab your wrist, pinning you to the wall but also trapping you up close and a little too personal with the undeniably handsome man.

“Quite frankly I’m a little disappointed; you’re not exactly the poppet I imagined you to be.”

Your body tenses and automatically tries to lean away from him in an attempt to put some space between you two (and actually see his face because at this distance, you’re only getting chest). His grip on you is warm, way warmer than a human’s should be unless they’ll be mistaken for running a fever so that only further confirms your suspicions. That only leaves one more curious thing niggling at you.

“How— Whe—Why’re you…?” You’re tongue-tied in trying to word this question of yours but stop prematurely to squeak when this carbon copy of Jungkook leans his face closer to yours. His gaze is intense on you and you can’t help but to break eye contact multiple times out of sheer intimidation. You feel the heat your face has gotten to when he chuffs a laugh, breath ghosting over your warming skin.

“On second thought, I think you’ll be fun to play with.”

It all happens so fast but in slow motion at the same time. In the split second Jungkook shifts his attention to something off the side, his weight and grip is suddenly lifted off of you and all that remains was a whoosh of air tickling your cheeks and a few strands of hair. Like thunder and lightening, the flooding of light blinds you momentarily before a crashing sound meets your ear. You blink a few times, allowing for your eyes to finally adjust and pinpoint the source.

You immediately recognize the smaller figure of Jimin, standing right in front of you despite having his back facing your way. In doing so, you can’t see his expression but you feel that you didn’t need to in order to guess that he’s not too happy with this visitor — his shoulders are tense as they heaved in the slightest bit, almost like he had rushed over here as fast as his demonic abilities allowed him to, in fact, the edges of his body still singed with leftover wisps of that black smoke he always seems to emit whenever he teleports.

“I thought I smelled a rat….” The voice that comes pouring out of your guardian demon sends unintentional chills down your spine. His words growled out with an almost animalistic quality, an octave lower than you were used to hearing and a distortion leaking through at the very edges that reminded you of the first time you’ve spoken to him that faithful night.

“I was beginning to wonder when you’ll show up brother.” You hear Jungkook rasp breathlessly and belatedly, you realize that in Jimin’s hasty entrance, he caught Jungkook by the throat and slammed him into the wall, catching the light switch along the way. Unamused, Jimin’s hand tightens its hold and the younger coughs.

“Why are you here.”

“No reason.”

“Don’t toy with me.”

Another choked laugh, followed by a cough and you’re actually beginning to worry for the man (demon?) despite him scaring you half to death with his arrival. Peering over Jimin’s shoulders, your wide eyes dart from Jungkook who’s grinning despite losing air at a rapid pace, face turning pallid and Jimin who’s dark crimson glare is threatening to burn a hole into the taller male’s head if his grip on him doesn’t do it first (you swear you see it beginning to smoke). You fidget in your spot, not wanting to have to deal with whatever mess Jimin may induce if he decides to scorch this newcomer on the spot (which he looks very close to doing). So you bite the bullet, hoping to diffuse the tension enough so that if he does, he’ll at least take it outside.

“H-hey..? Uh…um…Jimin….?”

“I’m a little busy doll.” He grits out, eyes still trained on Jungkook.

“Yes, I see that. But just my opinion….” You raise a finger to jab into his raised arm, the pad meeting a solid wall of flexed muscles. The action shifts it slightly off target and draws Jimin’s piercing eyes onto you. “I think you should let him go.”

The shorter demon balks at your suggestion, eyes growing wide as he incredulously says, “You can’t be serious. I don’t think I need to spell it out for you to know what he is.” His eyes flits briefly back to Jungkook to take in his appearance, dubiously. “As to why he looks like that…”

“I know. But just maybe you shouldn’t choke him out and demand answers from him at the same time; it’s kind of counter-productive seeing as he can’t answer properly because he can’t breathe anyways.” And I don’t want you to ruin my new wallpaper.

Jimin’s lips part in protest again but the words don’t come out as you meet his hard stare head on with conviction. His eyes searches yours and you soften, seeing the questions lingering in them, which makes you take a hold of his bicep, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

He didn’t hurt me. I’m fine.

You see his gaze flicker to the demon he’s holding and then back again to you before he huffs out in annoyance. His hand loosens its hold and Jungkook, despite his bravado, gasps in a lungful of air gratefully. However, it still doesn’t wipe away that shit-eating grin on his face as he regards you and then Jimin.

“What a curious little human. Now I see how you became so easily attached.”

Jimin maneuvers his hand to roughly grip the collar of Jungkook’s shirt, giving one harsh shove against the wall in warning. The taller demon grunts as the back of his head hits it with a loud thud. You wince; hoping that there won’t be a dent you would have to explain to Jaehee once this is all over.

“You should be grateful that she’s so benevolent. Now tell me; what are you doing here?” He spits out each word with a promise that if the latter doesn’t answer satisfactorily, he won’t hesitate to send him back to hell, first class.

“Relax brother, I was just in the neighbourhood and wanted to stop by for a visit. Can you blame me for being a little interested in the human who’s managed to steal your attention, so much so that you neglect your duties as a servant of hell?”

You perk up at this little tidbit of information. Jimin was neglecting his duties as a demon? Was that what his performance evaluation said and the reason why he’s been going out nightly for these past few weeks? You frown but you suppose it makes sense; Jimin is a demon first and a guardian second. He’s expressed that clearly numerous times when he told you that this guardian gig is a side thing meant to punish him. What he does best above all else is wreaking havoc on unsuspecting souls. Such is the nature of a demon but nowadays you find you have trouble remembering that fact when it comes to him.

This slip of tongue doesn’t please your guardian demon as he narrows his eyes. “That is none of your business. If you have nothing more important to say then I suggest you leave.”

“I must say, this overprotectiveness is a new side I never thought I’d live to see from you.” Jungkook completely brushes aside Jimin’s threat with a teasing remark. “It’s rather refreshing and precious. Ah, how you’ve grown…”

“Might I remind you who’s the older one here.” Jimin’s grip tightens a fraction. “And much stronger.”

“True, but alas height is something you have yet to gain over me.”

A wheeze unintentionally escapes you and you had to slap a hand over your mouth to hide the creeping smile threatening to burst through the seams of your lips. However, the noise doesn’t escape the keen hearing of the demons in the room, their eyes automatically focused on you. Jimin is less than amused, the tips of his ears tinging red as he glares at you while Jungkook unabashedly grins until his eyes are creasing, smug. Visibly, you see the tension between the two die down somewhat and through the initial hostility, you get a sense that your guardian and this demon have known each other for quite some time, their banter coming naturally (albeit a little violently). You clear your throat, feeling your own cheeks heat up at suddenly being the centre of attention.

“Forgive my rudeness, I should probably introduce myself.” Jungkook breaks the ice, ready to give what you assume is his name but then he stops himself, blinking in realization. “Ah, I suppose I can’t give you my actual name. It won’t sit too well with my dear brother here.” He gives a nod to Jimin who only shoots him a look of disdain. He pays it no mind. “So what do you call this one? The one who’s face I am wearing?”

“Er….Jungkook…” You answer back, mildly bemused.

“Jungkook…” He tests out the name for himself before nodding in approval. “Interesting…Okay then. And you are?”

“Don’t—“

“Y/N….?”

Your guardian sighs out heavily, head slumped down in defeat while Jungkook smiles triumphantly. You blink in confusion at the exchange. Were you not supposed to say your name…?

“Y/N…. I see. And from now on I’ll be Jungkook.” He declares with another nod to himself until he pauses, head cocking as if a thought had crossed his mind. Newly declared Jungkook zeroes in on Jimin, eyes full of concern but heavily veiled by a mischievous glint that overrides any of the sincerity. ”I must say brother, it seems you’ve drawn the short end of the stick here.”

Jimin whips his head up at that. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well clearly I’m the better looking of the two. Of all the ones in the picture, you pick him?”

“Hey!” You find your voice echoing that of your guardian’s, both of you sounding equal parts indignant. The outburst startles you and you pause to watch Jimin finally release his grip on Jungkook to showcase just how offended he is.

“Don’t you know the first rule to being a demon? Always—“

“Take on the image of a familiar being in order to gain a mortal’s trust and vulnerability, yaddy yaddy yada.” The younger demon flippantly recites, though he’s clearly more focused on rolling and rubbing his neck out to elevate the strain it has been put under. “But really though, you had such a wide selection; who knew humans could be that attractive! If I hadn’t known any better, I would’ve thought they were something the likes of an incubus would conjure up. I mean, look at these!”

Shamelessly, the doppelgänger Jungkook reaches for the hem of his shirt and pulls it upwards, allowing you to get a full view (and confirm) of the six-pack abs the real Jungkook himself is notorious for having. You feel your eyes bulge out at the sight of the defined ridges despite feeling like your entire face is also on the verge of burning off. Jimin takes one look at them and scoffs with a loud roll of his eyes but when he notices your obvious ogling, he delivers a hard smack against the surface of muscles.

“Quit it. They’re not even yours to brag.”

“Well she’s seems to enjoy it.” Jungkook lets the shirt fall back into place as he shoots you a salacious smirk. Your eyes immediately avert elsewhere,

“A word in private…Now.” Jimin commands, a scowl marring his beautiful face as he takes Jungkook by the collar of his shirt again, forcibly dragging him towards the direction of the living room. The younger shoots you a cute wave to which you return perplexedly. Still, you can’t help but watch them go in amusement, the whole interaction reminded you way too much of how the actual Jimin and Jungkook acted in real life (almost). Just when you think it’s a strange place to have a private chat, the two vanish in a puff of black smoke, startling you but leaving you finally in peace and quiet to let the events sink in.

“Ow, ow, ow this height thing is starting to become a detriment to my health.” Jungkook whines as he suddenly finds himself being dragged across a rooftop building. The night air is crisp with the moon shining high in the sky and though he doesn’t know exactly where he is, he thinks the view of the cityscape below is charming. It’s been a while since he’s actually paid a visit to this part of the mortal planes, given his status that he can’t stay for long periods of time – it never gave him a reason to check up on this place in particular. Well, he inwardly smiles to himself, that’s all about to change now.

His thoughts were cut short once he feels Jimin’s grip on him loosen and disappear altogether. It leaves him stumbling forward to regain balance from the abrupt lost of support. Jungkook runs a hand through his dark brunette hair, mussing the locks before he straightens his shirt and dusts his pants.

“So, what is it that you would like to discuss while gracing me with such a romantic night view?”

Jimin sighs out deeply, head throbbing and exasperation overwhelming every fibre of his being as he pinches the bridge of his nose. Turning, he fixes the younger demon with a glower. “Why are you here?”

“I believe I already answered that.”

“Okay then how are you here? I thought you had an assignment or something that Lucy gave you. And what’s with the get-up?”

“Just visiting on a visa, as per usual. And I’m on break, so I figured; why not visit my favourite brother and his new charge? As for the look,” Jungkook twirls, arms spread out like he’s showing off the new outfit he just bought instead of a whole new human meat suit he’s acquired. “Isn’t it a fine specimen? The face of a cherub and the body of a Greek sculpture — the perfect trap for hunters such as ourselves.”

“If the body is anything like a Greek sculpture then I fear you’ve just greatly compromised yourself in other places.”

Jungkook blinks wide eyed at Jimin’s statement, not understanding the jab, brows furrowing in on themselves. A grin itches to overtake the guardian demon’s face as he watches the cogs in his junior’s head tick until finally…

“Hey!”

Jimin throws his head back as a bark of laughter escapes him. His body bends over as he continues laughing and clutching his stomach at the sight of a bewildered Jungkook pouting, red cheeks and even going as far as looking down the crotch of his tight jeans. Once Jimin’s spiel has tapers off into small, hiccupping squeaks does he straighten up, sauntering over to clap a hand over the younger’s shoulder.

“You should probably get that sorted out.”

“Might I remind you that we’re demons who can alter our appearances at will any time, any where? I’m hurt brother; it almost feels like you’re trying to get rid of me.”

“That’s because I am.” Jimin rebuttals without missing a beat before striding off. He stops just at the edge of the building, taking in the view of the city indifferently. “Don’t take it personally, I would’ve enjoyed your visit any other time, but now is not it.”

Jungkook chuckles, going over to stand beside him. “Is it because of her? You know, I didn’t believe the reports when they first came in – you slacking off as a demon, all because of a human girl? Ha!” He shakes his head, the idea seemingly ridiculous at the time until he steals a glance at Jimin with a tilt of his head. “But now I’m beginning to think otherwise.”

Jimin doesn’t respond, obsidian eyes looking far off into the distance but not seeing anything, expression carefully blank. It further intrigues the young demon as he looks for any telltale signs that would give away to what’s going through the mind of his good friend and mentor because true to the many times he’s expressed it now, he’s never seen the older demon acting like this before. For as long as Jungkook’s known him, Jimin was a demon through and through with a matching devil may care attitude and a penchant for pushing the envelope one too many time to boot. ‘Caring’ is a term that didn’t exist in his dictionary unless it came to his fellow kinsman (but even then, setting each other on fire out of pettiness can hardly pass as light gestures of affection).

He was cold, indifferent to the struggles of mankind and reveled in their own self-sabotaging ways. So imagine the surprise Jungkook gets when he learns that not only has Jimin been succeeding at being a guardian but also possibly grown attached to his charge, all without tying her up and locking her in the basement at least once? The feat itself should be impossible, but who was he to say? After all, this is Jimin he’s talking about and he’s no stranger to doing some pretty impossible things. Jungkook can attest to that.

“She must be something special if the tables have turned so drastically like this.” The younger demon says, coming off seemingly offhanded yet a secret smile plays at the edge of his lips. It stretches further when Jimin finally turns to meet his gaze, face still inscrutable but Jungkook catches the flicker of deep ruby as well as an unnamed emotion passing through his irises. The two demons stare at each other, golden topaz clashing with crimson in a silent battle of dissecting one another.

It goes on for a few more tense minutes before Jungkook sees the red hues receding, Jimin’s gaze muting to their passive warm brown again. Eventually, he lets out a heavy sigh — the only sign of his disgruntlement.

“If you’re not going to leave, then I advise not talking to her while you’re here.”

“You say that as if my presence threatens you.” Jungkook chides playfully.

“Hardly.” Jimin snorts, hands stuffed into the pockets of his pants. “I didn’t, but I can and will break your neck.”

“You wouldn’t; you love me too much.” The younger laughs. He says that but he still feels the ghosting pressure on his throat threatening to crush his windpipes. He won’t admit it, but he had for a split second questioned whether or not he had been a little too forward with his greeting with you to warrant such a response from the elder (was it that serious?).

Jimin only shoots Jungkook an enigmatic look, holding it for a second longer before sauntering off without so much as another word. It leaves the younger quite taken aback and just as he’s about to voice his indignation, the pseudo-guardian dissipates, leaving only a trail of black smoke.

Alone, Jungkook blinks before he lets out a disbelieving, breathy chortle. He’s not sure what to do with himself, or with this new piece of information he’s been witnessed to. It’s a game changer, a big one at that and the wild card of it all has no doubt intrigued Jungkook, to the point where he’s willing to risk his neck (literally) to find out more — who you are, how you manage to invoke such a change in Jimin, your relationship and how this will ultimately all end.

He lets out another chuckle to himself, hand reaching up unconsciously to rub at his neck. One thing Jungkook knows for sure though —

It’s pretty serious.

“You know, I was told to not talk to you if I ever see you….” You say with uncertainty, eyes glued to his tall figure as you watch him rummage around in your kitchen from the threshold. It’s the weekend and you had plans to sleep in, stay at home and laze around in your PJs all day because quite frankly, you don’t think you can function in society properly after your life has been uprooted again by the addition of another demon (never in your life had you imagined you would actually be saying that sentence). So yes, you think you deserve the time to process it all.

It was going well for the most part — you almost tricked yourself into thinking you live a normal, un-supernatural ridden life until from your room, you hear a clatter of noise drifting out from the kitchen. At first you thought it was Jaehee, home early from running her errands but when you went to go check, you nearly scream in alarm at the sight that greeted you instead.

After shushing you to not alert the hound (aka Jimin), the young demon parading around as Jungkook proceeds to snoop around more, opening drawers and cabinets at first out of curiosity, but then escalating to full-blown scavenging once he discovers your snack stash, sampling every type he lays his eyes on.

“I told you already, I’m not here to hurt you and he won’t hurt me if he finds out I’ve been talking to you. He’ll get a little pissy sure, but believe it or not, Jimin — ” He stops turning to you with furrowed brows, “That’s your name for him right?”

You nod slowly, watching him stuff another cookie into his mouth, making one side of his cheek puff out like a hamster.

“Jimin and I are actually good friends — and that’s rare for demons. So he won’t actually try to seriously incinerate me if you and I hung out for like, ten minutes.” Jungkook grabs for a rolled up bag of Doritos, unfurling it and reaching in to take a chip, eating it. He pauses again, a thoughtful look crossing his face before he whips his gaze to you, a look of dead seriousness as his dark eyes bore into you. You stiffen at the intensity and sudden 180-degree change to his otherwise light-hearted demeanour.

“But in case he does find out, you’re backing me up right?”

Your own brows furrow in response and a wry smile makes its way onto your lips. You’re at a loss for words at his shamelessness but can’t help finding it comical and a tad bit endearing. You shrug, humouring him.

“Sure, okay.”

He nods affirmatively, going back to eating more chips before he decides that yes, these will be his chosen snack. Jungkook shuffles past you and heads towards the living room, plopping down on the couch rather comfortably and turning on the TV with a casual flick of his wrist. You follow him, taking a seat on the armrest and watch amazed as he channel surfs with his finger in a way one would scroll with an IPad. Unfortunately for him, you don’t have cable or a satellite provider since both you and Jaehee prefer streaming your shows. The only purpose it serves is the occasional movie nights and your long forgotten PS4.

But as of right now, you’re not too concerned in trying to keep this odd demon entertained. Rather, you want to know why he’s even here in the first place if this is potentially putting him in danger.

“So…. Can you tell me again why you’re here?” You ask, voicing your thoughts curiously.

Jungkook glances up, pausing on the local news channel that had a reporter droning on about the latest update to an apparent street racing accident that happened recently which resulted in one death and four arrests. He’s got a mouthful of chip as he blinks up at you with round eyes and in that moment, he reminds you too much of a bunny. Doesn’t help that his lips pull back into a mischievous smile, revealing most of his front teeth.

“Wouldn’t you say it’s appropriate for me, a good friend and mentee of Jimin’s, to be interested in the girl who’s managed to steal his attention?”

You sputter, hands crossing over your chest defensively. “W-What’s that supposed to mean? He’s just my temp guardian because he apparently did something stupid. There’s nothing going on between us other than that he needs to make sure I don’t die so that he can save his own ass.”

The demon in front of you nods his head in agreement, lips jutting out in thought as he nonchalantly switches the channel to an afternoon talk show.

“True, but you don’t know Jimin like I do.”

When he doesn’t say anything more, you wiggle impatiently in your seat in a subtle attempt to get him to elaborate. He catches on quickly, mouth upturned at the corners in the slightest bit.

“Let’s just say, with how Jimin is…. or I should say was, I’m looking forward to picking you apart, to see who Y/N really is.”

He makes it sound way more dramatic than it really ought to be, you thought, finding the entire thing to be anticlimactic. If that really was his true motive, the very thing he’s willing to risk it all for, then boy was he gonna be disappointed. On the contrary though, you find that you’re more interested in picking him apart. With what he insinuated just now, your curiosity for a certain demon has been piqued. You wouldn’t mind digging up some juicy dirt about your guardian. But for now, you tuck that piece of information away, having the feeling that there will be another time and place to investigate.

Jungkook pours the rest of the remaining bits of chip into his mouth, crumpling the bag once there’s none left before standing. He brushes his hands off on his dark denim jeans, swaggering over to you until you felt the need to stand in order to not feel so dwarfed against his height (it didn’t make a difference, sadly).

“Whether Jimin likes it or not, we’ll be seeing each other more often.”

With a roguish smirk, he walks past you and before he makes it to the threshold of the front door, he tosses the balled up bag over his shoulder, the trajectory perfect enough that you only needed to stretch your arms out to catch it. When you’ve successfully grasped the remainders of your Doritos bag, Jungkook is gone, leaving behind only a trailing wisp of black smoke.

You stare at the spot for a few seconds before huffing a laugh and shaking your head. Demon Jungkook says that your guardian was unfortunate enough to end up looking like Jimin but you honestly think otherwise. As much as he is handsome by default because he chose to look like Jungkook, it seems like it doesn’t change the overall feeling you get from him, demon or not.

He’s a huge dweeb.

“What are you doing still up?”

You don’t look up from the faintly glowing phone screen you’re holding in front you, body still half sunk into your pillows and blankets as your eyes stay glued to the time on the corner. Two minute to go.

He seems to have materialized from the darkness of your room, smoothly sidling up your bedside to tower over your form. Dark eyes wander to what yours are fixated on and with a slight tilt of his head, Jimin reads the time: 4:57am.

“They’re gonna drop their MV for their comeback soon.” You reply offhandedly, bringing a hand up to rub your eyes because you literally had just woken up for this very moment. Your demon guardian’s eyebrow furrows, not understanding the significance of your words before his mouth forms into an ‘O’.

“You mean that boy band you follow? BTS?”

You hum.

Jimin regards you for a bit, hands shoved into the pockets of his black slacks. You feel him hovering over you and for a split second you think he’ll get bored and dissipate off until suddenly, he’s leaning over so closely to you that you practically feel the heat emanating from his body. You sink lower into your pillows, alarmed and wide-eyed as you look up at him in question.

“What?”

“Has that brat been snooping around here?”

His narrowing eyes pin you down and you had to take a moment to remember the context of his words.

“Ah,” You say before also remembering the little agreement you made with the ‘brat’ in question. Switching gears, you shake your head. “No, not really.”

“…. That took way longer than necessary.”

“I had to remind myself who you’re talking about.” You defended, subtly shifting yourself away from Jimin until you’re almost at the edge of your bed. When you still feel his burning eyes on you, you choose to avert your attention back to your phone. For the past few days, Jungkook had quite skillfully avoided your guardian and drops by to visit whenever he feels like it, mostly to raid your snack cupboard and to play with your PS4. During those times, you’ve actually gotten to know him a little better. You’ve learned that Jungkook’s some sort of demon ‘rookie’, strictly bound to only doing ‘assignments’ given to him by his ‘boss’ and that his visiting ‘visa’ only permits him limited time in the mortal realm.

He also revealed that the reason why you’re able to see him is because of your contract with Jimin, otherwise, he would be invisible to anyone else. Overall, you found him to be entertaining and a highly curious individual, often times catching him peering at your extensive BTS album collection on your shelf as well as asking questions about the boy band you dedicate your time and money to. Honestly, you didn’t see what the big deal was — you think you have your fair share of demons now, so what’s one more to add in your life?

Jimin sighs out heavily, straightening if only to tip his head back while running a frustrated hand through his now dark navy blue locks.

“Y/N…seriously. He seems pretty harmless but he’s not. E—“ He snaps his mouth shut, cutting himself off so abruptly that it made you glance up at him. The slip up doesn’t go unnoticed by you, curiosity snapping you awake as you eye your guardian, wondering what it was that he was about to accidentally spill. At your weighted gaze however, Jimin shuffles, clearing his throat while rubbing the back of his neck in an attempt to play it off. “Jungkook is deceiving; if you’re not careful he’ll trick you into getting in a lot of trouble just for his sake of entertainment.”

You deflate, curiosity still gnawing at you but you choose not to pursue it, knowing how your guardian is stubbornly good at keeping things clamped up when he wants to. Besides, you have more important matters at hand. So you settle down again, going back to your phone with a mumbled, “That sure sounds like some other demon I know….”

If Jimin responded, you don’t hear it because the moment you see the clock reading 5:00am, you let out a muffled squeal as you hastily refresh the page, watching as it reloads and a newly added video appears, front and centre. Stuffing your ear buds in, you hit play immediately and like Pavlov’s dog, the intro has your heart pounding double speed before anything is happening.

And then the first notes.

Your guardian demon watches on in fascination, a little taken aback at first from your sudden change in mood. You’re too busy to pay any mind to his prying eyes as you soak in the visuals in front of you and jam to the catchy beat of the song. It’s not until BTS’ Jimin flashed across the screen, throwing in a rather sultry glance did you have to pause to give yourself time to flop back, a high-pitched garbling spewing out from you and if it were not for your guardian demon’s impeccable eyesight, he would’ve thought that a portal had torn open to release some sort of gremlin into your room.

The thought tickles a smile onto his lips, shifting the image so that you were the gremlin but finding in a way you are similar to one; small in comparison to him, penchant for avoiding sunlight like you’re allergic to it and likes to make indecipherable noises to communicate. One key difference though, he ponders, is that he finds you to be more…appealing than that fur ball rodent.

You let out a huff of air, still in the midst of trying to recollect yourself from that sudden attack, hair a mess from rolling and flailing in your bed.

Yeah, way more appealing and amusing.

Jimin takes the time to snatch your phone from your distracted state, holding it up to his face at the paused screen. His eyes meet those unlike his own — like looking into a mirror rather than a video, the only difference is the hair colour (bubblegum pink, not something he would imagine himself personally to be sporting but…. it doesn’t look as bad as he would’ve imagined. Ah, as expected of such a face he supposes…).

“Hey, give it back!” He hears you whisper yell, making grabby hands his way, a hard frown tugging the corners of your mouth down and your brows furrowed. Your petulant demand pulls Jimin out of his musings, his own eyebrow quirking before a sly smile makes its way across plush lips.

A loud yelp nearly tears itself from your lips as suddenly, a warm weight presses against you. For whatever reason you can’t fathom, Jimin had invited himself to get comfortable in the free space of your bed. Flabbergasted, you try to ask him what the hell does he think he’s doing but you only manage to get as far as ‘what the hell’ before you splutter into incoherency, heat overtaking your face and body. Your guardian coolly settles down, completely unfazed as he plucks the fallen ear bud from you and puts one side on.

He turns to eye you with an innocent look, to which you can only stare back wide-eyed and mouth agape like a fish out of water.

“What? I think it’s about time I would get to know the seven Korean men that melted your frozen heart and who you’ve pledged your undying love to.”

You blink, letting his words sink in as the unconscious death grip you had on the edges of your blanket loosens. A few more moments of silence passes between you two, your doppelgänger peering at you expectantly. When it’s clear that he wasn’t gonna pull a quick one on you and say that he’s just kidding, you tentatively take a hold of your phone again and the other half of your earbuds.

“Okay…If you’re sure?” You don’t hide how weirded out you are by his sudden interest but you don’t unwelcome it (you’re always down to spread the love that is BTS, even to a demon of hell). So with one last deep breath, you gather yourself and rewind the video to play it from the beginning. The intro rolls, the same note plays but you find, frustratingly enough, that you’re half paying attention to the what’s going on in the music video. Your brain has suddenly made you become so hyper aware of the body that’s beside you that when Jimin shifts to lean his head closer to get a better view, you had to hold yourself back from flinching.

It’s so unfair, you think, sneaking a glance to catch his profile illuminated against the light of the phone screen, highlighting the high points of his nose and cheeks and casting dark shadows to emphasize the sharp cut of his jawline. He’s surprisingly focused on the video that it almost puts you to shame because you’re beside yourself, trying not to combust from this onslaught of visuals (from the video and what’s beside you). You adamantly glue your gaze back onto the screen, determined to not let this effect you so much, only to be hit by another deadly shot (courtesy of Jung Hoseok). It sends you reeling.

Guardian demon Jimin holds fast, unbothered by the squirming and wheezing you’re doing beside him, so caught up in this new world from which the person who you adore most exist in and subsequently, who he now wears the image of. Needless to say, it was strange to see himself (but not really) dance to this energetic, poppy tune while singing about the little things of love, joy and overall happiness alongside his six other band mates (one of which is, ugh, Jungkook), all the while, throwing out radiant, heart-stopping smiles.

It’s sappy, too cute, too pink and so not his taste.

Still, as bizarre as it is, Jimin is starting to see the surface of where this unconditional love stems from. He could almost feel the warmth and sincerity of which the lyrics are being sung, despite the upbeat track it’s been placed with and the foreign language it’s in — a purity of emotions and of gratitude for…. an imaginary lover? Or perhaps…. for those that support and love them, just as you do?

The song comes to an end, the final notes fading out in an echo. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and courageously, trail your eyes to meet the demon’s face. He says nothing as he slips the ear bud off with a rather pensive look on his face. You’re not sure how to react either.

“…So….” You start, fidgeting with your own ear bud. “What do you think?”

He cocks his head to one side; arms crossed in thought and after a few more beats of silence, turns to you with a rather deadpan look on his face. “It’s too cheerful.”

You bring a hand up to your mouth as if that would help stop the short, burst of laughter that comes through (it doesn’t but at least it makes it quieter than it would’ve been). The comment catches you off guard in the delivery but by no means, were you surprised that he would say something like that. Nevertheless, you nod in understanding.

“Yeah…I had a feeling. I mean, you sort of came in a very uplifting time for them, which is why their comeback is so…. happy.” You explain, “I think if you had seen their past comebacks you would like some of those songs better, especially during Tear era so you could always check that out.” You pause as if there’s a tinier you inside your brain reprimanding you for getting too carried away because what if he doesn’t want to go that deep? So as a cop out, you throw in, “Only if you want to.”

Afterwards, you refuse to make eye contact with Jimin, choosing to answer the few instant messages that popped up from your friends who had also woken up to watch the MV drop. Which means you entirely miss the way Jimin continues to watch you, eyes dancing with amusement as he sees the way you type (in all caps) to your friends in a group chat, expressing your excitement about the new song and the member’s new concept for the video, all the while keeping a rather straight face.

His lips betray him as a smile creeps its way up. With a mind made up, he reaches for your phone and pries it away from your hands. You protest, making a grab for it but he pulls it out of reach, clicking the side button to lock it before unfolding his legs to get up from your bed. You frown unconsciously at how quickly the space became colder in his absence.

“I’ll think about it. But right now you need to sleep — you’re going to regret it when you wake up for work soon.”

Again, you open your mouth to protest but shut it because ultimately, he’s right. A quick glance at your bedside clock nearly has you blanching; it’s near 6:30am — you need to be up in four hours.

“I regret nothing.” You retort. Jimin only shoots back a knowing grin because yes, he knows that you don’t regret anything BTS by now but if there was anything that would rival your love for, it was sleep. He places your phone down on your night table, getting ready to take his leave.

“Sleep tight, doll. You’re gonna need it.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You mumble, sinking down and making yourself comfortable in your bed again and in spite of your pouting, you’re out like a light.

“That’s Kim Namjoon, he’s the leader but not the oldest. His stage name is RM but he used to be known as Rap Monster because he’s one of the main rappers and he’s known for producing a lot of their songs.”

Jimin breathes out deeply in an attempt to remain focused on the screen in front of him.

“That’s Kim Seokjin, his stage name is Jin and he’s the oldest. He’s one of the main vocalists; pretty impressive I’d say considering he had no experience before. I think he’s funny too, especially when he laughs. It sounds like a windshield wiper.”

How is it that he still hears him through the headphones and volume turned almost on full blast?

“That one’s named Min Yoongi. Another main rapper, also produces a lot of their songs. Did you know he could rap 11.5 syllables per second?”

There’s about three minutes left to this music video (or should he say short film? Because it really does feel like one) but he’s not sure if he can last that long without finally snapping.

“He’s Jung Hoseok, stage name J-Hope. He’s a rapper too but he’s better known for his dancing — everyone collectively calls him ‘Dance Captain Jung’ because he’s that good and is super scary when it comes to choreography.” Jungkook scoots closer to get a better look, bumping Jimin’s shoulder and effectively increasing the guardian’s murderous intent that goes by unnoticed from the younger demon. “Kind of reminds me of someone….”

“Can you move?” Jimin grinds out as he shoves Jungkook out of the way. Like an annoying fruit fly, Jungkook persists, a wide grin taking over his face when he sees who appears next.

“Ah, look who it is — it’s you~!” He cackles, poking Jimin’s shoulder with one chip stained finger. It makes Jimin kiss his teeth loudly with annoyance, swiping the offending mark off his Saint Laurent jacket. “Well not really you you, but you know. He’s a dancer and a main vocalist of the group — hey! You should test that out! If you look and sound like him, maybe you can sing just as well! It wouldn’t do you good if the best you do is only look like him.”

He feels his eye twitching; maybe he should try doing breathing exercises.

“Oh! That’s Kim Taehyung, his stage name is V and he’s another vocalist who’s known for his huskier, deeper tone. He’s got a nickname called ‘CG V’ because everyone thinks he looks unreal, was first in a poll for the most handsome face in the world.” Jungkook pauses, staring deeply in thought at the singer that just passed by on screen. “Maybe I should’ve chosen him to look like…. but ah, there’s something about him that doesn’t really suit my taste….”

Before Jimin can tell him off or set him on fire, the young demon jumps excitedly, nearly knocking Jimin’s phone right out of his hand and send it plummeting down the 50-story building they’re on.

“Oh! It’s me! It’s me!” He watches eagerly, eyes sparkling with fascination at seeing the original owner of his face in action. The young man is acting, not looking much different from the being that’s sitting beside Jimin at the moment with his dark brunette hair parted and styled in a way where you can fully see his forehead. The only difference is his choice in wardrobe (a black Puma track suit, of all things….). Jungkook sits back after a moment, looking very satisfied with himself as if he was the one that’s in the music video.

“Did you know he’s called ‘Golden Maknae’? He’s good at everything; dancing, singing, rapping, sports, music, videography—“ He makes a noise of approval from the back of his throat. “As expected, I think its fate that we ended up choosing the masks that best reflects us, don’t you think? Oh! Hey, did you know they have a fan chant? It’s goes like ‘KIM NAMJOON! KIM SEOKJIN! MIN—!”

Without so much as a glance away from the screen, Jimin yanks the snack bag out of Jungkook’s grasp and chucks it out ahead of him, not caring where it may land while ignoring the yell that follows.

“MY CHIPS!”

He’s gone before Jimin can say ‘go fetch’ but nevertheless, he’s finally able to breathe and watch the rest of the video in peace. As the song comes to an end with a rather haunting silhouette the group made, Jimin comes to one conclusion.

You were right — Tear era is, in his opinion, far superior.

414 notes · View notes

lily-blue · 4 years

Text

CODE Z3RO | CODE 12

characters: BTS & Red Velvet genre: thriller, futuristic au warning: death summary: The twelve most ambitious and promising university students are welcomed in Choego, the world’s first entirely artificial intelligence-driven city, to compete for five job contracts that could change their life. But what if something goes wrong? What if they get trapped? What if the city suddenly turns against them? Can they find a way out before the countdown reaches zero? words: 4,1K tagged: @philosopher-of-fandoms

➼ Chapter Index

All Namjoon could think about was Wendy and her lifeless body that had been slowly sinking underneath the flowery soil barely an hour prior. And he hated the whole world for taking her away from him in such a cruel and unfair way. She, out of all people, would have deserved so much better. Better than a tomb and a useless boyfriend like him.

After his short-lived conversation with Yerim that had failed to put his restless heart at ease, his mind started throwing bittersweet flashbacks at the engineer, memories of them fighting over the last piece of toast, him drinking straight from the carton of milk, Wendy complaining about his lame choice of presents for her birthday and Christmas and suddenly he regretted that he had always forgotten Valentine’s Day. Reminiscing about his girlfriend, lipstick stains on the edge of his favourite mug, even their most irritating fights and habits seemed nice thus he wished he hadn’t rushed out of the kitchen so hastily. He should have stayed there and borne with her teasing because deep down he had known very well that it had been her way to cope with the suffocating death lingering around them. If only she hadn’t run after him and rather stayed with the rest of the team, peeling the ingredients, she would have been still alive. But she had chosen him over her pride and it all had been his fault. The thought alone truly drove Namjoon crazy, transparent hands choking him with every breath he took.

Wandering in the dark pit of self-blame, still angry due to the newfound information about the researchers’ decision to keep going with such a dangerous project, he was only pulled back to reality when Taehyung pushed him against the wall of the air-drain and that was when he also realized that it was hard to breathe. Maybe his chest wasn’t heavy solely because of his grief after all but also due to the gas that filled the pipes. Another splendid feature that had been made by the creators. One more way they could have killed them. And funnily, the boy didn’t care about dying anymore let it happen in an abandoned building amongst people or all alone at home while sleeping at the age of eighty.

He could hear the echo of Yoongi’s panting and thinking of Wendy, Namjoon turned to their leader and helped him with the slow crawling forwards. He tore a small piece off of his tee to lift it in front of the guy’s face then reminded him of the importance of breathing through his nose even though it might have been annoying with the cloth touching his eyes and mouth whenever they made a move. They were merely in an arm’s length distance from Jungkook’s dirty shoes when they snapped their heads towards the little girl ahead, her silent cry echoing in the small area. She buried her face into the crook of the young boy’s shoulder, shaking and if anything then it proved that something terrible had happened.

Truth to be told, Namjoon was jealous of them having each other but he tried not to think too much into their close proximity because every single member of the team knew that the boy didn’t like the girl. It was merely the aftereffect of the shock that they all felt due to the death of their former acquaintances. It wasn’t real love. He shouldn’t have envied such a fake bubble of nonexistent affection. But he did nevertheless, yearning for the soft skin of his girlfriend’s palm on his cheek.

The boy didn’t even realize that Taehyung was missing until Yoongi’s loud cough beside him remained unnoticed, silence embracing them instead of the familiar mocking tone of the lilac haired guy. After the initial confusion that was clearly written on his face, Namjoon decided to follow the front of the queue regardless of his dislike of letting someone as dangerous as Seulgi take the lead once again. She was unworthy of his trust, her words were imprecise and her knowledge was markedly limited. They moved towards the computer room as one, trying not to stare too much when they passed the hole where the Marketing guy escaped from the gas and they threw Jungkook’s left shoe down at the next exit point to check whether it was safe. They didn’t want to make the same mistake, Taehyung had made, jumping into the arms of death out of carelessness and fear. So far the gas seemed to be harmless, only making them cough although they couldn’t be sure that it wouldn’t have had negative side effects on their bodies later on. But that later felt out of reach taken that they could have died in any minute. They would have been utterly stupid to care about cancer or such although Wendy must have disagreed. Such a silly thought.

The group stared at the lonely shoe for long minutes before Yoongi climbed down and the others followed, their feet touching the ground one by one. When even Yerim got out of the pipes safely, her trembling hand holding onto Jungkook, they looked around silently in the enormous room with a dozen of computers in it. No one dared to speak about Taehyung’s selfish death hence the buzzing sound of the electronic devices slowly drove them nuts. They were finally inside the killing machine. Yet their limbs were frozen.

‘So… is this it? The main computer that can help us get out?’ Yerim asked in a small voice, her arms besides her sides. She took a step towards the biggest screen and looked up at it with her big doe eyes so innocent as if she was begging them to agree.

‘I think, yeah,’ Namjoon told her not one hundred percent sure of himself but at least he tried unlike their leader who walked next to the girl quietly then passed her by without a word to take a good look at the computer, he was so addicted to, from a different angle.

It was white, a warm blanket as thick as fog, the familiar scenery getting blurry and the IT guy’s limbs froze, legs unable to move. Yoongi snapped his head towards the corner where Seulgi should have been but the room was empty and he had suddenly found himself utterly alone. He furrowed his brows in confusion and lifted his hand in front of his right eye to rub it as if he could have magically gotten everyone back. It felt like a nightmare especially because his palms also became sweaty when he realized that his precious laptop bag had disappeared as well.

‘You ungrateful child! I asked you, I begged you not to go but you needed to prove yourself, hah? Aish. Look where your precious IT major has gotten you! You should have listened to me when you still had a chance. And now you’ll die without me being able to say goodbye. You’re such a cruel boy, Min Yoongi. You have never been easy on my heart!’ a sorrowful plea came from out of nowhere, blaming the prodigal son and begging him at the very same time, yearning for something quite impossible.

The always so rational boy shook his head, hands sliding onto her ears and knees trembling a little as he sat on his heels to find his balance. A tiny part of his sanity was aware of the fact that his mother couldn’t possibly be in Choego as the whole city was locked down and not to mention that she hated public transportation so much that she had barely left Daegu. Yet, his heart churned at the thought that she was close and that he could have talked with her one more time. He wanted to tell her a hella lot of things alongside his useless apologies. More than anything, he wanted her to know that he was grateful for everything she had done for him through the years, that he loved her regardless of their debates and that he felt truly sorry. He hadn’t made it easy for her either as he was ever so stubborn, lacking the ability of letting his emotions be shown without feeling overly anxious.

‘Mom? What are you…’ he spoke up with warm tears piercing his eyes and it was stupid, he knew but he couldn’t help it. It was so freaking realistic, he wanted to smash something or cry out helplessly. He was tired of this whole situation, of acting as if he had been truly hopeful when in reality he craved for reassurance just as much as the others. Under the cold exterior, he was just another human being who freaked out when he saw dead bodies and blood. He definitely hadn’t signed up for being a part of an impossible survivor show, a new generation Battle Royal with a smart city being their biggest enemy besides time.

There was a moment when his mother’s voice became so loud, his doubting thoughts melted into nothingness and he truly believed that it was over. That he would follow Seokjin and the others and die like a rat. It was a frightening thought.

He felt a stinging pain in his shoulder but he decided to not care about it too much until a small palm slapped him and his eyes opened wide. It was Yerim kneeling in front of him, face so close to his own that the boy could see the barely there moles on her nose regardless of the fog. She looked scared yet very much determined as she pulled away and mumbled a quiet sorry. Yoongi shook his head.

‘It’s fi—’

‘It’s a hallucination. Guys, it’s a hallucination. They’re not real!’ Yerim’s pitched voice echoed in the air once she stood up, running towards Jungkook so fast as if she felt guilty for not choosing him first. The memory of the younger’s teary eyes froze the IT guy’s limbs because even though it was only a wild guess on the boy’s part, he thought that those tears might have been brimming in her eyes because of her brother who had died in the basement of the local hospital. Just like in his case with his mom, they couldn’t have said goodbye to each other either. That must have been still hard on her. And Yoongi was sure that it would remain the same for the rest of her life, let there be one more hour or year ahead of the girl.

Just like Yerim, Jungkook hallucinated about Seokjin as well but while the eldest had seemed sad in his sister’s dreams, he was quite furious in the boy’s. He blamed him for his own death and screamed into his face, yearning for revenge.

‘You killed me! You killed both of us!’ he shouted and Jungkook didn’t even need to think hard to know whom he was referring to. The elder was talking about Gangnam Girl whose name had been so insignificant back then that the boy couldn’t even recall it. Seeing her begging for help, he had run towards the exit like a selfish child and had refused to mention to the others where she had been exactly or that he had seen her stuck behind the glass door.

The boy was aware of the fact that they were all responsible for themselves at first and only then came the others. He also knew that back then neither of them had known that the city would murder them one by one with its fucked up security system. So maybe others would have done the same as he had done. It didn’t make him a cold-blooded killer, it only showed how desperate he was to get a contract so that he could take care of his poor family. He was a good person, a good person. He was good. Seokjin knew nothing about him and his motives. Otherwise he wouldn’t have been so unfairly judging.

‘I’m sorry… I didn’t…’ he tried to reason but his tongue felt sore and he failed to form the words that mingled up in his mind. There was a helpless teardrop running down his cheek when two tiny palms slid onto his cheeks and his heart could finally rested in a warm embrace. He kept murmuring under his nose though, looking for an excuse that could have cleared his self-conscious. He did feel guilty for both the rich girl and Seokjin’s death.

Yerim didn’t leave Jungkook’s side and watching them, Yoongi pushed himself onto his feet and walked towards Seulgi who was indeed in one of the corners of the room where he had previously assumed. A few locks of her messy hair fell into her face, hands shielding her ears from whoever who was talking to her in her head. Her eyes were teary just like Yerim’s and it made the boy feel uneasy as he slowly made the distance between their bodies disappear.

‘If only, you would have been braver. You could have saved a lot more. But no, you needed to make it worse with that accident in the researcher building, didn’t you? I told you, smoking will kill you one day.’ It was her mother’s raspy voice but she was facing herself as if she had looked into a mirror. She couldn’t bear the sight.

There were lots of people throughout the years who had told Seulgi that she had reminded them of her mother but she had always shushed them away with a small wave of her hand. In her opinion, they couldn’t have been more different from each other as they had never once agreed on any topic let them talking about food or TV programmes that they could have watched during dinner. They had different taste in music, in actors, in holiday destination and in future plans. She preferred to stay in South Korea to build new and better houses on the countryside that could keep the poor warm while the woman wanted her to leave, to move to America and became just as wealthy as the chaebols she hated. Only later she had realized that when she had been in her age, her mother had had a twin sister who had died due to a robbery in that petrol station where she had bought her cigarettes most of the time. But regardless of this newfound information, she still couldn’t make herself quit smoking. She was an addict and life was too stressful.

A shiver ran down her spine when something warm wrapped around her wrists, peeling her hands off her ears with force. Even though she hated the feel of the touch, she was too weak to set herself free. She was stuck in her mind.

‘It’s not real. Snap out of it, Seulgi! You hear me? I’m the one who is real, not them. It’s me,’ a familiar voice addressed her but it was fairly quiet as if it had come from under heavy layers of icy water. So instead of listening to it or asking back who was talking to her, Seulgi kept her gaze on her reflection, on the voice that was blaming her, mocking her with wearing her own face.

She didn’t even realize that she was holding her breath back until insecure fingers started to play with her hair, whispering the same words into her ear over and over again. ‘I’m the one who is real. It’s me. I’m here.’

Namjoon stood in the middle of a room full of people and it was worse than being completely alone because they markedly didn’t want to listen no matter how loudly he screamed at them. They remained still, talking to each other, laughing on ridiculously nonsense jokes and acted as if he hadn’t been there in the first place. He couldn’t decide whom he should have walked up to first to shake a little sense into the emotionless bunch so he closed his eyes and pointed at someone blindly, taking a few unsure steps towards the chosen direction before the blood froze in his veins. He snapped his head at the door on his right, the little girl who had been his target a mere second ago, long forgotten.

‘Namjoon! Namjoon please help! I can’t breathe,’ Wendy said along with a cough that both scared the hell out of the boy and lifted those heavy weights off his chest that made it hard for him to breathe as well. Because his girlfriend was still alive and at that moment, nothing else mattered. Sadly, not even the fear in her voice. Namjoon’s mind shut it out entirely until the girl spoke up again, this time a little weaker after a more painful cough. ‘Something is wrong with the air, it’s suffocating as if the whole building was on fire. Help me!’

There was a loud thud and then silence.

‘Wendy?’ her name, as a question, fell from the boy’s lips while he ran to the door, trying to tear it open. But there was no handle, he could have grabbed.

He slid down along the metal and hit the object with his fist until it became numb and sore. It hurt as it was bleeding on his knuckles but he couldn’t give a damn about the physical pain. The thought of losing Wendy again was much worse because this time it would have indeed been all his fault. It would have been him who couldn’t save her.

‘Namjoon, please. I don’t want to die, not yet. Please,’ she begged him but her voice came from another direction this time that forced the boy’s eyebrows to the middle of his forehead. He looked around in confusion, his gaze observing the crowd but as he paid close attention to the mass of people, he noticed that they had no faces nor ears. They looked like a bunch of lifeless dolls, one could have seen in shop windows. It didn’t make any sense. A few minutes prior he had heard them laugh so hard, he wanted to punch them in the face.

His legs were wobbly when he stood up and turned towards the metal door that changed into a transparent wall. Now, Namjoon could see the hallway in front of the room but the corridor was empty and the air looked fresh.

‘Where are you, babe? Wendy, where are you?’ he asked in despair turning around multiple times, running from one puppet to the other. He pushed a few on the ground carelessly, not bearing the thought of wasting his time while his girlfriend was in danger. He wouldn’t let this shapeshifting building take her away from him now that he got her back.

His heartbeats were so loud that he needed to stop for a minute and calm down otherwise it could have been possible that he would go totally deaf before he could have deciphered the instructions that the girl gave him. So after his short-lived rampage, his movements came to a halt and he closed his eyes to be able to focus more effectively, repeating his question over and over again until he finally got an answer so weak, it churned his heart. It sounded as if it came from a ghost.

‘It’s so dark, I can’t see,’ she claimed and the first thing that came to the boy’s mind was that they had buried her under pretty flowers. Was she calling for him from her coffin? Could she had been still alive underneath, waiting for him to get her out of that stupid hole? Was this freaking city developed enough to heal major wounds, to save lives even when people failed? It seemed so impossible and yet Namjoon found himself believing in his childish ideas. He wanted to believe that somehow Wendy had survived the blood loss, that miracles existed in Choego.

But then came a faint knock from behind his back and this time it echoed on the surface of a wooden door that had a handle.

‘I… I love you. I… I wanted to have a family with you. I… I’m so sorry,’ the girl confessed quietly and it was so out of the character from her, apologizing when she didn’t do anything wrong. Because regardless of their stupid debate that had been started with her comment on his cooking skills, he couldn’t put the blame on her without feeling bitter. He could have also chosen to stay and eat the lunch they had been about to prepare. No one had forced him to run away.

He had wanted to have a family with her too but Wendy had been always adamant when the topic had come up between them at home. She had worked super hard to become an excellent doctor and settling down and having children together would have ruined everything for her. She had wanted to have a stable career before she would have gotten pregnant. Namjoon had usually understood her reasoning and he had loved her so much, he could have waited for her to be ready, but the fact that she had been so against the idea had hurt him nevertheless. So now when he could hear the sincerity in her faint voice, the whole wide world turned into something worthless and insignificant in his eyes. The core of his existence was Wendy and the medic girl alone who had never failed to take care of him when he had caught the cold.

‘I’m coming. Please hold on for a little while. I’m coming,’ he said but the door got further and further away with every step he took.

‘I’m so scared, Joon-ah,’ she admitted and the boy could imagine how hard it could have been for her to show him her vulnerable side. Out of the two of them, it had been always Wendy who had been the stronger.

He brushed the hand off his shoulder when someone touched him then snapped at the intruder harshly for stealing some of his precious time. Yet, the doll didn’t back off, not even when he pushed her onto the ground. No. It stared at him horrified as it put on a familiar face. It looked at him with Yerim’s big doe eyes, unshed tears shining in them like restless stars on the cloudy sky.

‘Namjoon, stop! It’s not Wendy! It’s a hallucination, the fog’s doing,’ Seulgi tried to reason, touching his upper arm tentatively but even for the lightest touch, the boy snapped. He slid his angry gaze to the other girl and gritted his teeth. Seulgi was the last person he had wanted to encounter with now that he was on his way to his girlfriend. The same girl whom he had lost due to the Architecture major’s incompetence.

‘Let go of me!’ he pushed her further as well, and it was only because of Yoongi that she didn’t lose her balance the same way as Yerim had done. Namjoon was much stronger when he was angry than any of them would have guessed. They simply couldn’t stop him marching towards the door. ‘She needs me. She’s waiting for me. I can’t leave her alone,’ he told them before he speeded up and grabbed the handle.

‘Snap out of it, man!’ Jungkook shouted after him, voice trembling at the end of his sentence. He couldn’t believe what was about to happen in front of his eyes, in front of all of them.

Because one thing was inevitable once Namjoon opened the door and crossed the threshold to step out to the hallway where Taehyung’s body laid. The laser cut him into pieces before he could have screamed. He smelled like roasted meat, falling onto the ground in five different directions.

Jungkook grabbed Yerim’s elbow and pulled her into his embrace on instinct so that he could cover the dreadful sight of the lifeless body parts and the flood of blood on the tiles. Then he also buried his face into the girl’s hair as if it could have functioned as a curtain between the world and them. It couldn’t.

Seulgi kept her eyes on Yoongi and the IT guy just stared at the still figure, dumbfounded. It took him long minutes to collect himself and walk back to the main computer, looking for the control panel of the aircon that could have helped them suck the fog out of the air. As they didn’t need the door to make the air clearer, Seulgi closed it, trying not to glance at the bodies before she leaned her forehead against the door and made an attempt to even her breathing in vain. Even if one of them was Taehyung, it was definitely too much to handle.

The silence that was broken only by the buzzing sound of the computers was suffocating, Jungkook thought, while he fondled Yerim’s hair. This time she didn’t cry like the boy had expected from her. Her shoulders didn’t shake, not even a little. And her stillness was more frightening than her tears had ever been before.

➼ XIII. chapter

#code zero #bts scenarios #red velvet scenarios #ssbyme #thriller #futuristic au #this was one of the most challenging chapters for me #i hope the visions are dark enough #and not too cheesy #idk why would they be cheesy lmao #the ships are sailing

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fight-surrender · 4 years

Text

Howlin’ Forever Chapter 3: Into the Woods

Rating: Teen and Up

Word count: 2583

Read on AO3

Summary: “Dog-Simon must catch my scent because he’s instantly awake and on his feet. His head is down, hackles are up and the snarl that ensues from his mouth is most certainly lupine. His eyes are Simon’s blue, but there is no humanity or recognition in them. Only malice.”

Time for Baz to find a werewolf.

(I did put a readmore cut in here on my desktop, I’m terribly sorry to clog your feed if it doesn’t transfer to mobile.) Thanks as always to my amazing friends, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @vkelleyart @penpanoply for their unwavering support and encouragement and beta reading and omg @penpanoply made me this cover art which is fucking gorgeous and brilliant and perfect. <3 <3

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Ch 3: Into the Woods

You and me have a disease, You affect me, you infect me, I'm afflicted, you're addicted, You and me, you and me

- “Infected” by Bad Religion

Baz:

Panting, I scramble to the window. The night seems to be holding its breath, silently waiting as a quiet splash draws my eyes to the moat. The merwolves are eerily calm, almost reverent, as they bear witness to the hulking bronze figure that cuts through the water. The creature emerges from the moat, shaking off moonlit water droplets. He howls again, sending my heart into a renewed frenzy. The wolf then turns and runs into the forest.

I wipe my hands across my face, then rake them through my hair.

What should I do? What should I do?

Should I go after him? Leave him be? Where is he going? Does he even know?

The drawbridge is closed. I’m too frazzled to manage a spell to get around it. Sleep isn’t an option tonight. My eye catches on the pile of books Malfoy sent over. At least Hogwarts still has a fully stocked library, not the Children’s Garden of Verses we have here at Watford. I take a copy of “Magical Beasts and Where to Find Them,” a bag of salt and vinegar crisps and settle onto my bed to try and focus on the pages.

***

Sunrise turns the room pink as I realize I’ve been reading the same paragraph for half an hour. I have no idea what it says. The only information I’ve retained from this exercise is that the full moon phase can last up to about four days. The transformation seems to last longer in the newly Turned. Also, there is a potion called Wolfsbane that helps lessen the effects of the Lycanthropy.

A heavy thunk, followed by the clatter of gears indicates the drawbridge is coming down.

I snap the book shut with one hand and stand up.

Time to find a werewolf.

***

It’s a good thing it’s the weekend. I certainly wouldn’t miss class to hike through the woods after this imbecile. Branches slap my face as I stomp along, following Snow’s tracks. He’s left an obvious trail of broken limbs, scratched soil and huge footprints. My vampire senses come in handy as well. His scent is different in this form. He still smells like smoke, but now there’s a wildness, a smell of petrichor and moss with hints of musk.

My mind is a swirl of thoughts, but I can’t settle on any single one. Simon, the Chosen One, Watford’s golden boy is now a monster. Technically, he’s not allowed to exist. Neither am I, for that matter, I’m well versed in keeping my secret. The question is what’s Simon going to do with this information? He’s so damned good, he could very well just turn himself in to the mage as soon as he resumes his human form. I’ll be damned to hell twice over before I let him throw his life away like that. I will stop him, even if I have to put a collar on him and chain him to the bed. (That actually sounds appealing, regardless of his reaction to his new condition.)

Simon’s scent gets stronger as I approach a dried creek bed. I slow down, treading lightly across scattered stones and debris, trying not to make a sound. An angry squirrel chitters at me from a branch above my head. If I had the time or inclination, I’d drain him out of spite. At least squirrel blood tastes better than rat.

I stop short as I come around a boulder, on the other side is the hulking form of Simon Snow. Rather, the were version of him. His breath is till heaving, but he seems to be asleep. During the frenzied events of last night, I hadn’t a chance to really get a look at him. He’s huge, probably the size of a Shetland pony. He doesn’t exactly look wolfish, his muzzle is not so pointed, his ears flop down. He looks like, well he looks like an overgrown, shaggy, bronze-furred Golden Retriever. For snakes sake, of course Simon Snow would turn into a Golden; cheerful, loyal, lovely dogs that they are. He’s too good to even be a proper monster. Crowley. I roll my eyes and shake my head in wonder.

Dog-Simon must catch my scent because he’s instantly awake and on his feet. His head is down, hackles are up and the snarl that ensues from his mouth is most certainly lupine. His eyes are Simon’s blue, but there is no humanity or recognition in them. Only malice. Not quite so Golden-esque then.

Before I can pull my wand from my sleeve, he lunges at me, but immediately falls to the ground. He growls again and turns to bite at something behind him. I step back to a safer distance and see that the beast’s foot is caught in some kind of debris. Snow flails and thrashes, but eventually collapses, exhausted, panting.

I try to approach him, now that he’s tired, and am met once again with that malevolent, dead stare and a mouth full of giant teeth. And, I might add, horrific dog breath. I back away into the forest to think. That thing, it is Simon. I can’t exactly leave him out here for the next three days, but how can I spell him free and somewhere safe until he goes back to human form? There are dog training spells, but what would “atta boy” do to the human part of his brain? I suppose I could spell him to sleep, but how do I get him back to our room? I don’t have the magic to transport him.

What if I could get him to trust me? Physically, he’s a giant pet dog. What’s the best way to train a dog? Positive reinforcement: Food. What’s the way to Simon Snow’s heart? Food.

I turn and run back to Watford. It’s time to call in a favor with Cook Pritchard.

***

Thank magic no one is around when I haul the giant wicker picnic basket Cook Pritchard loaded up for me across the great lawn. She gave me enough food for an army. The woman was well chuffed that I was having a picnic with “friends.” She acted as if I hadn’t any friends. “Well that’s lovely, Basilton, so nice to see you coming out of your shell.” Cook even tucked a small bottle of dandelion wine into the basket, “to help break the ice.” She actually winked at me. I wanted to implode.

I have friends. Sure, half of them are family, but still. You only need one or two friends, anything more isn’t worth the effort.

I carry the basket through the wood. I feel like I’m on my way to a goth Victorian picnic. I stop periodically to drain a few squirrels, just for spite. The resident dryad side eyes me as I pass her thicket. I ignore her.

“What do you seek, blood eater?” She hisses. Twirling her ridiculous umbrella. Butterflies swirl lazily around her mossy hair.

“None of your business.” I reply.

“Your pistil is a wolf.” She remarks.

“He’s not my anything.” I snarl, “And he’s not a wolf, he’s a Golden Retriever.”

“The Chosen One is an abomination,” she presses. “The children of the moon must die.”

I light a fire in my palm. “Is that so?” I drop my voice to a menace, “maybe I should take out this whole forest in the process.”

“Do what you must. The forest will regrow. He cannot live.” She calls my bluff.

“You know what? You can fuck off.” I say, frustrated.

She opens her mouth to speak, but I raise my hand. “Enough. We’re done here.” I sling the giant basket over my shoulder and stomp away.

I’ll be staked before I take advice from a woodland creature holding a parasol. Snow has as much of a right to live as I do. More so, he’s not dead. Fuck the dryad.

I finally make it back to the creek bed. Dog-Simon looks vaguely defeated, laying on his side, his back leg stretched behind him. I can see a length of rusty wire wrapped around his foot. He’s awake, wary eyes never leaving mine, a low growl rumbles in his chest.

I settle myself on the ground a safe distance away. I’m wearing my school-issue green Watford football trackie bottoms and sweatshirt. Coach Mac will probably not appreciate werewolf damage to the practice uniform. My trainers are caked with mud. I sigh. The things I do for love.

The basket creaks as I open it. The sound makes Snow get up and retreat as far as the wire around his leg will let him. His tail is down, ears back; he’s panting lightly.

I pull out the bottle of dandelion wine and take a swig, to calm my nerves. It’s bitter, with a faint floral overtone, and just enough bite to warm my chest. I take a deep breath and survey the contents of my picnic. The basket is overflowing with roast beef sandwiches, sour cherry scones, roast chicken, bacon butties, jellies, and inexplicably a layered trifle. She must have magicked it all in there.

It’s just me and the dog, and I missed breakfast, so I help myself to a roast beef sandwich. Snow’s ears tip forward and he sits down. Sniffing the air.

I toss a bit of my sandwich at him, he scrambles away with a surprised bark. Almost immediately, he cautiously noses forward, sniffing at the roast beef. He sits down again, without eating it and resumes watching me, panting. His teeth are huge.

“For fucks sake, Simon, it’s not like it’s poisoned.”

The dog’s ears perk up and he cocks his head at me. His mouth is closed, brows almost furrowed in concentration.

“Go on then lad,” I press, “roast beef is your favorite.” I remind myself to breathe.

Snow resumes panting, but lowers his nose again at the food. He nudges it, then takes an experimental bite. Apparently satisfied that the offering wasn’t going to kill him, the great dog swallows the rest. Licking his lips, he retreats to his original position, as far away from Baz as he can get.

I toss half a sandwich into his orbit.

“There you go Snow, I know you can’t walk away from half a sandwich.”

Once again Dog-Simon sits, cocks his head and looks at me. I’m probably imagining it, but his eyelids almost seem to squeeze a bit, in concentration. He cautiously walks my way, never taking his eyes off me, and eats the sandwich half in one bite. This time he doesn’t shy away, he sits, panting again and watches me.

I toss him the other half of the sandwich, which he catches in the air and eats with more gusto. He’s watching me again, this time I get a weak tail wag.

I unwrap the roast chicken and throw the whole thing at him. It lands with an unceremonious plop, a leg breaking free. Simon stands and practically inhales the whole thing. His tail is wagging faster now.

We go on like this for the duration of the afternoon. I’m slowly inching closer, I can almost touch his muzzle now. He seems more relaxed, the panting has stopped. His ears are forward, tail wagging freely. His eyes have gone softer, from ice to sky.

I reach into the basket for a sour cherry scone, I’ve been saving these for this moment. I scoot even closer, holding it in my hand this time. He’s so close, he could easily rip my throat out. It’s not often I have to worry about someone ripping out my throat. It’s refreshing, really. I suppose there are worse ways to die.

“Simon, we’re going to have to work together to figure this mess out. If there is any part of you that can hear me, let me help you. I mean, I know you don’t have any reason to trust me, but…” My voice tapers off. Why would he trust me? Crowley, I’ve done nothing but torment him for the last 6 years.

A gentle breeze ruffles the golden leaves above me. “We be of one blood, ye and I.” I murmur. A warm rush of surprise washes over me. Where the fuck did that even come from? Kipling was a powerful magician, but is that even a spell? Leave it to me to channel my favorite childhood book in times of duress.

I take a breath and hold out the scone. Simon noses forward, sniffs, and carefully takes the scone from my hand. He doesn’t move away. I keep my eyes on him as I slowly reach for the basket and remove another scone. I hold it in my hand, when he takes it, I reach out with my other hand and run it behind his ear, rubbing along his jaw. He stiffens, but continues to eat the scone. “These are your favourite,” I whisper, scratching behind his ear, rubbing slowly along his neck and shoulder. Eventually, I find myself out of scones and scratching his stomach, while his tongue lolls and he scratches his back leg lazily.

I take a break because my hands are cramping from all the petting. I really hope he doesn’t remember any of this. I shake my hands and look at the grime under my nails. I’m going to need a manicure.

Simon stands and gives a mighty shake from his nose to his feathered, rudder-like tail. He utters a sharp bark, like he’s decided something, then proceeds to try and climb into my lap, his huge pink tongue lapping my face.

“Merlin and Morgana, you giant thumping git, get off. I push him away, but not too far. He knocks me to the ground and licks my whole face. For snakes sake, you’re disgusting, I get to my feet wiping saliva off my chin and trying not to smile. Simon’s tail is wagging so hard his whole body is wiggling and he’s rubbing along my side, trying to get me to scratch his back. I oblige for a moment.

“Snow, stop, let’s get your leg untangled.” He stands so quietly as I extricate his leg from the wire, that I can’t help but wonder if he understood me.

Once freed, Simon plants his giant paws on my shoulders and smears the side of my face with his tongue once more. “Blimey, Snow.” I step back and the great dog’s feet once more hit the ground. He zooms away, coming to a skidding stop, returns to my side and bows his front legs down, rear up, tail wagging madly.

I lean down and take his huge face in my hands, scratching gently below his jaw. “Come along, you delightful moron, let’s go home.”

I turn and make my way through the forest. The late afternoon sun dappling the trail with rich golden light. Dust motes dancing in the beams. Simon scampers ahead, darting back every few minutes to make sure I’m still following.

I breathe in the rich loamy scent of these ancient woods and let it out slowly. For once, my mind is quiet. Simon is back at my side, nosing at my hand. I absentmindedly rub his velvet ear. I stop and let this foreign emotion wash over me. I let myself relax, for just this moment, I am content.

#carry on #my fic #howlin forever #werewolf fic #werewolf simon #simon snow #baz pitch #watford 6th year #cover art by penpanoply #fanfiction #not gonna lie #i kind of love this chapter #fanfic #snowbaz fanfiction

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