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yoongiseesawmp3 · 3 years

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candy kisses - yoongi

don’t judge me. stream butter. stay safe out there

summary: yoongi is y/n’s weed dealer, and he needs help expanding his business portfolio. weed brownies, anyone?

warnings: weed. trifling friends. a small couch. don’t read if you’re a narc or if you’re gonna point out the two grammar mistakes i found that i will not fix

word count: 3.3k

“when was the last time we smoked together?”

you don’t hear yoongi because you’re currently very focused on rolling this blunt correctly. your work in the past has been sloppy, rushed, and you’re worried about disappointing yoongi while also disrespecting his high-quality product, so you’re mega focused on the little pieces of herb in your hands that are trying to run away. you’re half aware of his gaze on you as you work, and you’re also barely aware that your tongue is just slightly sticking out, a sign of your steady concentration which yoongi is about to break.

“you look cute when you’re focused like that,” yoongi says nonchalantly, almost making you drop the blunt just as you’re about to bring it to your lips to wet the paper.

“thank you?” you reply, noticing how relaxed yoongi is on your couch. just black sweats and a white t shirt on, and yet it’s hard for you not to stare at him. actually, you’re staring right now, so get back to work. you finish up the blunt and lean forward, searching your coffee table for your lighter.

“looking for this?” yoongi asks, picking it up from underneath a stack of take out napkins that you’ve carefully curated. is that a fire hazard, a lighter underneath cheap napkins? probably.

“yeah, thanks,” you answer, reaching over to grab it from him. “how’d you know it was there?”

“you always keep it on that little plate thing with the other tiny stuff you lose all the time,” he explains, and you glance at the napkins and see the minuscule design element you barely remembered peeking out from underneath.

“ok, how’d you know that was there?” you ask, holding the blunt up before you start to slowly light the end of it.

“i go nuts for interior design,” he explains with a shrug. “the colors on the plate match your couch pillows. it’s a nice touch.”

“thank you,” you respond quietly. who notices stuff like that?

“you’re welcome.”

it’s quiet as you take your first puff of the blunt, one quick one just to test it and another, longer pull after for good luck. the acidic smoke hits your tastebuds before you breathe it in. you hold it for just a second, and then exhale, watching the cloud that forms in front of you. you turn to yoongi and intend to pass the blunt to him, but you realize you don’t have an ashtray ready so you pull that little plate from its paper prison and ash the blunt before yoongi takes it from you. your fingers brush as he takes it, and you notice how soft his hands are, so you tell him.

“thanks, it’s your lotion,” he replies, and you laugh at how comfortable he gets every time he comes over.

“i thought i smelled peaches,” you joke, trying to rearrange the mess on your coffee table now. you push an empty vape pen out of the way as you search for any other trash to throw away, and still yoongi is watching you as he exhales from his first pull. he looks like that caterpillar from alice in wonderland.

“you shouldn’t smoke those little vape things, it’s getting metal in your lungs,” he tells you with a little bit of authority in his voice. you watch him as he pouts his pretty lips and closes them around the blunt, their slight downward slope mesmerizing as he breathes in.

“well if you didn’t take so damn long to refill our stash i wouldn’t need these little vape things to get a buzz,” you bite back, graciously taking the blunt as he passes it back to you. you watch him hold the smoke just a second longer before pursing his lips to slowly let it all out. you’re still thinking about his lips when he speaks again.

“do you like edibles?”

“um, it depends,” you reply. “what kind?”

“how many are there?” he asks, curious.

“why, are you trying to expand your business portfolio?” you joke. “but really anything that you can use butter in, or infuse cbd oil somehow can be an edible i think. but i like brownies the best.”

“so, hypothetically, if i made weed brownies, could i make them here? and could you maybe help me with the recipe?”

“sure, but why do you need to make them here?”

“to hang out with you,” he says with a shrug. “is that ok?”

“that’s ok,” you reply, wondering if your heart is beating fast because of the blunt or the idea that yoongi wants to spend more time with you. “when?”

“are you free friday?”

you know how everyone uses phone alarms to wake up now? and sometimes if you hear that ringtone out in your everyday life it brings you war flashbacks?

well, the timer on yoongi’s phone is going off, playing your typical morning alarm, and he won’t turn it off, so you’re about two seconds away from committing murder.

“yoongi!” you shout to the man missing in action. “your brownies are done!”

you hear the bathroom sink running followed by yoongi’s shuffling footsteps, and you watch as he dashes to the kitchen while he dries his hands off on his sweatpants.

“shit, sorry,” he apologizes, grabbing his phone off the counter before ending your misery.

“thank you,” you sigh as you relax back into the couch. you hear his movements echoing in the kitchen, the oven opening, the pan clattering on top of the oven, and the impressed whistle yoongi lets out as he checks his masterpiece. “how do they look?”

“incredible,” he replies, popping his head out of the kitchen with an excited look on his face. “do you wanna be my first customer?”

“i’m letting you use my kitchen, so you better not charge me for trying one of your edibles,” you warn as you get up. your kitchen is a mess, by the way. yoongi might be a great chef when it comes to meals, but he didn’t know shit about desserts before today. so actually, he’s using your kitchen AND your baking expertise, you should get the entire batch for free.

“i’m not gonna charge you,” he agrees with a roll of his eyes. “this time.”

“how much are you gonna take?” you ask, peering over his shoulder as he slices the pan of sweets into bite size portions. you get the urge to lean your head on his shoulder as he does, but you’re not sure if that would be weird, so you’ll settle with standing close enough to feel his warmth along with the warmth of the brownies. “just one to start?”

“i’m not sure i did this right, so one could be too much or not enough. it’s better to be safe and start small,” he explains.

“god, look at the delinquent who brought drugs into my home being responsible,” you tease. “it’s cute.”

“i don’t think you’re supposed to call your dealer cute,” he counters.

“good thing you’re not just my dealer, then,” you quip back as you snatch a piece from the corner, the best piece of any brownie, illegal or not.

“wait,” he semi-shouts, grabbing your hand before you pop the piece into your mouth. “should we have a plan before we take them?”

“what do you mean, a plan?”

“like if something happens,” he explains, a nervous look in his eyes. “maybe i won’t try one, so i can keep an eye on you in case i made them wrong.”

“yoongi, we’ll be fine,” you assure him, picking up another piece and holding it out to him. “i won’t take it without you.”

“is this the peer pressure to do drugs that adults are always talking about?” he asks as he carefully takes the brownie from your hand. again, your hands brush, but this time yoongi just stays there, sort of cupping your hands in his even though you’ve already passed the contraband to him. you whisper his name, snapping him out of whatever thoughts were clouding his head, and he pulls his gaze up to your eyes, which have an excited glint in them that yoongi wants to see over and over again. he especially wants to be the reason for it, but he’ll settle for the simple pleasure of enjoying how it highlights the flecks of light that dance over your eyes. and now you’re noticing the way he’s staring at you, and it’s making your hands clam up, so you try to clear the air.

“so, do we cheers with these before we take them or what?” you joke, and you’re rewarded with a silent chuckle and the shaking of yoongi’s broad shoulders.

“i’m not sure, you’re the edible expert,” he replies. “we should just take them.”

“whatever you say, boss man.”

taking the edible was easy enough. waiting for it to kick in was another story.

first of all, you and yoongi both have had butterfly fueled jitters around each other since the longing gaze you shared in the kitchen. that awkwardness was paired with the anxious jabbering of yoongi as he questioned every feeling, sight and sound, questioning if “this is what it feels like.”

second of all, jimin and taehyung somehow found out you had a whole pan of weed brownies and quickly made their way over, and they might have mentioned this to hoseok too. he’s bringing pizza though, so you’re not mad about that. you had planned on watching your favorite movie with yoongi tonight, so the more the merrier? and also pizza. you were looking forward to that more than having your home invaded by three extra boys.

on top of your house being invaded by boys, you’re starting to wonder what’s going on between you and yoongi all while your mind starts to slowly drift away with your ability to focus. right now you can only think about how yoongi is starting to lean into you more and more and also did he look that good when he first got here? he’s never wearing much more than pajamas of some sort, but today he looks a little more put together than usual. it’s not a drastic difference, he’s wearing adidas track pants paired with a baggy, black button up, so anyone else wouldn’t think much of this outfit choice. but...did he dress up for this? is he trying to impress you? meanwhile, you’re wearing pajama shorts and a t shirt that’s so old it’s basically a family heirloom.

having jimin and taehyung here keeps you distracted from the way yoongi keeps nervously running his hands over his thighs, and you definitely need a distraction from that. you started the movie a few minutes ago, but you swear you could just sit here watching yoongi and be just as entertained.

“you know that wasn’t in the original script?” yoongi asks, snapping you out of your thoughts with his little fun fact.

“yeah, i knew that,” you reply, noticing how close he is to you now. taehyung took up the other side of the couch with his big ass self, so you’re slightly squished up next to yoongi in the corner and his eyes keep flitting around, like he’s equally excited and nervous about your proximity. “i thought you said you hadn’t watched this before though.”

“i haven’t,” he responds with a shrug.

“then how did you know that?”

“...i read the imdb page before i got here.”

“nerd,” you tease, smiling at the thought that yoongi takes an interest in what you like. you’re about to share your own bit of trivia about the movie (because you could talk about it for hours) but hoseok banging on your door stops you.

“special delivery! yummy pizza!! give me weed!!!” hobi shouts from the other side of your door. you rush to your feet to answer it, hopefully to put a stop to his yelling before neighbors complain, but the edible is starting to hit and your knees suddenly feel like they’re made out of jello. you sway slightly and you feel yoongi’s hand on your back steadying you before you step around jimin on the floor to let hoseok in.

“you’re gonna get me evicted,” you warn hobi as you open the door, and he responds by kissing the top of your head. he makes his way to the kitchen and taehyung follows, leaving a loopy jimin and a pink-cheeked yoongi with you in the living room.

“hyung, are you good?” jimin asks yoongi, and he simply nods. “y/n, can you get me some pizza please?”

“go get it yourself, jimin.”

“you’re a terrible host,” he quips back, sitting up too quick. you can tell he’s feeling what you felt when you stood up, and jimin smiles. “hyung, the brownies were really good. can i have another?”

you and yoongi both say no at the same time, and jimin thinks it’s the funniest thing in the world. his giggle attracts tae’s attention as he comes out of the kitchen, several pieces of pizza stacked on one plate.

“what’s so funny?” he asks, handing you each a slice as he makes his way back to his spot on the couch. you take yours and sit back down, even closer to yoongi now because hobi has taken your spot on the couch. you’re practically in yoongi’s lap now, but you don’t mind.

“yeah, was it actually funny chim or are you just high?” hobi asks, a fleck of brownie on one side of his face and a piece of cheese on the other. why are boys so gross?

“i don’t know, but when yoongi and y/n answered together it just sounded like they’re an old married couple that spends so much time together they start to sound the same,” jimin explains.

“aren’t we all like that though?” you ask.

“eh, the two of you are getting worse,” taehyung replies. “you have been hanging out a lot lately.”

“that’s because y/n is my business partner now,” yoongi says calmly. business partners? is that all he thinks of you?

“do business partners talk about how kissable their partners lips are?” jimin asks, back to laying completely on the floor. there’s an awkward pause before he speaks again. “are you sure i can’t have another piece of brownie?”

“wait, who said the kissable thing?” hobi asks.

“yoongi hyung. he thinks y/n has nice lips.”

“and a nice ass,” taehyung adds.

“i hate you all,” yoongi grumbles from semi-underneath you.

“you know you can kiss me if you want,” you tell yoongi before thinking about it. yoongi looks at you with something in his eyes that you can’t read, and your heart skips a beat. you look away from him quickly, turning the sound on the tv up a little louder. “actually, forget i said that.”

“i will if i can have more brownies.”

letting jimin have another piece was a mistake.

nothing bad happened, he just ended up falling asleep on your floor and now he’s asleep in your bed after a nice group effort of carrying him to your room. hoseok left after that, saying he needed to get home for mickey’s vet appointment in the morning. he took some of the brownies with him and he’s going to try to get namjoon to eat one to see if he’ll do a dramatic performance of a poem or something for a dumb bet between him and jin.

that leaves you, yoongi and taehyung. somehow there’s one less person on the couch now and yet you’re still smushed up next to yoongi, but you’re not complaining. it’s keeping you grounded, feeling him breathing next to you. otherwise you’d go back to thinking about his thighs in those track pants, and that isn’t good for anybody. it’s bothering yoongi though, if only because he’d rather be like this just the two of you, minus the nine foot giant next to him that found one of your newer vapes. it’s banana flavored, and yoongi finds himself wondering if your lips would taste like candy after smoking it.

“taehyung, can you stop blowing your smoke at me?” yoongi finally asks.

“sorry hyung, not many other places i can blow it,” he responds. “it’s a small apartment.”

“sorry about that,” you say, reaching for the vape in taehyung’s hand.

“not your fault, y/n,” he replies. “you could invest in a bigger couch though.”

“or you could sit on the floor,” yoongi offers.

“why hyung? i thought you’d like sitting so close to y/n,” taehyung smiles. “beside, you can just buy y/n a new couch when your very successful brownie business kicks off.”

“yeah, since i am just a business partner to you,” you mumble, exhaling the sweet smoke. it wisps around yoongi and he tries not to look annoyed, but you like messing with him. he looks cute when he’s flustered.

“or you could buy a bigger apartment when you move in together,” taehyung suggests before getting off the couch. “but i’ll solve the couch problem for you, for now. jimin is awake and he found some of y/n’s school pictures, so if you’ll excuse me.”

“i’m never inviting you over ever again!” you shout, loud enough for jimin to hear you in your room.

“y/n, you were really cute in high school!” jimin shouts back. taehyung shouts “i wanna see!” before he’s gone, leaving you alone with yoongi at last.

“i was really awkward in high school,” you say more to yourself than yoongi. “but whatever.”

“i’m sure you’ve always been cute,” yoongi responds after a beat of silence.

“i don’t think you’re supposed to call your ‘business partner’ cute.”

“oh come on, you know i didn’t mean it like that,” yoongi says with a smirk, silent confidence starting to creep out.

“i would like a new couch, though,” you tell him. you smile at each other and it’s quiet again for a beat before yoongi speaks.

“you haven’t moved away.”

“what?”

“taehyung got off the couch, there’s plenty of space now, but you haven’t moved,” he explains quietly.

“yeah because the space is on your side, you should be the one to move.”

“what if i don’t want to?” yoongi asks, a slight challenge in his voice. you stare at each other for a moment before you lean in. your lips barely meet before you pull away, but yoongi’s cupping your chin and pulling you back in for a real kiss before you can crack a joke. it’s slow at first, but then you get more comfortable with it and move your lips slightly, yoongi following your lead. you part your lips and he deepens it, the hand on your chin falling down to the back of your neck to keep you in place.

he was right, your lips do taste like candy. he could stay here like this forever, but eventually you have to breathe so you pull back and let your head fall down to the crook of his neck. you stay like that, catching your breath, and yoongi’s arms pull you closer to him to you’re fully seated on those damn thighs and he’s taking the discarded vape so he can have a taste, and he lets the smoke curl around you before he leans back in. now you get a chance to taste the sweetness on his lips, and you can’t believe you didn’t do this sooner. your arms are draped lazily over his shoulders, and you tap his back to signal that you’re pulling away again.

“for what it’s worth, i’ve always thought you had kissable lips,” you tell him. “but i have a better ass.”

“i’m not arguing with that,” yoongi replies with a smirk, cupping his hands around you as he moves so that you’re underneath him on the couch, lips tangled and the world forgotten.

damn, you really should’ve done this sooner.

#yoongi #min yoongi #min yoongi imagine #min yoongi imagines #min yoongi fluff #yoongi fluff #yoongi fic #min yoongi fic #bts fic #bts fluff #bts imagine #bts one shot #min yoongi one shot #this shouldve been posted on 420 but whatever

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ruzek-halstead · 3 years

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there’s one thing on my mind (it’s all for you)

i didn’t have a wip for jatp fanworks appreciation week, so i made one?? but i got too into it and finished it in a few hours. thanks to @ourstarscollided for sending in the incredible prompt that led to this fic!!

home didn't seem like home anymore for luke patterson, and so he was desperate to find a new place to write music. after an especially brutal fight with his mother, he finds himself in front of l.a. books. he isn't expecting to get much out of it, it was solely a last resort. but then he sees her, julie molina, and he ends up coming back every week just to keep seeing her.

bookstore au

masterlist

If three years ago, someone were to tell Luke, he would actively be spending his Friday night in a small, but cozy book store, he would have laughed in their face.

He was a rockstar. If he wasn't jamming it out at some club with his boys, he was doing something wrong.

But life didn't always work out in his favour, and it wasn't long before he decided he couldn't write out of his home anymore. Home. Sometimes the mere word made him laugh. Home was supposed to be warm, welcoming and loving, and he felt none of those things every time he walked through the front door. It was starting to take a toll on him. Not only on his mental health, but also in his creative abilities. The songs he was writing in his bedroom had taken a dark turn, so dark they felt more like a cry for help than anything else.

So, he decided it was time to find another place to write songs; somewhere that could get his creative juices flowing. When Reggie first suggested this bookstore on the corner of Madison, Luke pinched his brows, not understanding how that was a viable solution. Reggie defended his suggestion by saying bookstores were quiet and he would be surrounded by millions of words of inspiration.

Luke never took Reggie's suggestion until one brutal fight with his mom left him pulling at his hair, desperate to leave the house. He would go anywhere at this point, but his fingers were itching to grab his pencil and book; there was so much he just needed to get out onto paper. If he didn't, he would explode. So, he grabbed his song book, a few pencils and stuffed everything into his backpack before he hopped out his window. At first, he just started walking to nowhere in particular. In the back of his mind, he was intending to drop by Alex's, but instead he found himself standing in front of L.A. Books.

He walked in with the intention of taking one quick walk around and most likely walking right back out. He was pissed off at the world and he didn't think Shakespeare would solve his issue.

But then he saw her.

She was stocking a book shelf, putting up new books as far as he could tell. Her curls kept getting in way of her vision and she was continuously tucking them behind her ears. He could only see the side of her face at this point, but when she was approached by a younger girl to help locate a book, Luke quite literally forgot how to breathe. She was stunning in every which way; her soft smile to the young girl made an unconscious smile spread over his own lips. There was no specific thing about her that drew him to her, but for some reason, he was rooted to the floor. Even when she started moving in his direction, leading the girl to a new section, he couldn't even move just enough to grab a book and look like he wasn't creepily stalking her.

But she only sent him a warm smile as she walked by.

So, maybe Reggie wasn't so wrong about this place after all.

After that, Luke found himself stopping by at least once a week, maybe twice if things at home were really bad. It was a quiet establishment for the most part, and Luke found a corner table that was perfect for his writing. He knew his song writing was starting to take a hit; he knew that. But since he started writing in the bookstore, an obvious shift was clear in the words he scribbled down.

Even the boys noticed.

"What the hell is this?" Alex had demanded one late night after Luke handed him his songbook so he could filter through it. They'd mostly been playing their old originals while Luke worked on some new stuff, and he was finally starting to share.

Luke frowned, biting his lip nervously. "What? Is it that bad?"

"Reg, look at this," Alex ignored Luke, reaching over to show the other brunette. "When were you going to tell us?"

Luke merely blinked, gaze flickering between the two. Reggie, to his credit, looked just as confused, meanwhile Alex was fighting a smirk. "Dude, I'm so confused. What the hell are you talking about?"

Alex placed the book down in his lap, finally letting the smirk take over. "When were you going to tell us you were in love?"

Luke immediately started to sweat. "What?"

"If you're writing these love songs about me, I'm flattered," Alex teased, to which Luke could only roll his eyes and snatch the book back into his possession. "But you know I'm taken."

"I'm not in love," Luke muttered under his breath.

And he wasn't. He would stand by that.

But he'd be lying if he said he didn't stop by the bookstore solely to see his curly-haired goddess. Every time, he would look at her and a sudden burst of inspiration would blindside him and he would be writing into his book without even realizing. He wasn't going to tell the boys that, though.

After about a month of hidden glances and polite smiles, he figured it was about time to say something. He also figured it could only look a little strange, him being at a bookstore every week and never buying anything. To his credit, many others took advantage of their tables to work quietly; he wasn't the only one. But he was the only one who couldn't take his off the employee with kind eyes and a mega-watts smile. Sometimes she came over to organize the tables, or wipe them down, and so Luke decided it was now or never.

"Hi," he blurted one night when she came to grab a stray book someone had left on his table. Her gaze lifted to meet his. Her face broke out into a warm smile and he nearly broke his pencil from how hard he was holding it.

Luke's eyes dropped to her name tag. He'd never been close enough to read it (with the exception of the first time he saw her, but he was understandably starstruck and couldn't focus on anything).

Julie.

He debated saying something else, it almost looked like she was waiting for him too, but the words were caught in his throat. He merely sent her a pained grin as she retreated. God, that was awkward.

Over the next few months, his confidence grew some, but he was never able to hold a full conversation with her. He was working up to it, but in the meantime, he was content in his corner writing songs about the girl who had unknowingly captured his heart.

This week had been particularly gruelling. School had taken a lot out of him (every mark counted for college admissions) and his parents were on his ass about his grades. He knew he had to do well, even if he wanted to pursue music, he needed the grades to get into a good music program; he knew that. He didn't need his mom yelling at him about it every day. So, this Friday he'd spent the entire evening at L.A. Books, anything to just get away for a bit. He knew it was almost closing time; there weren't many customers left and he could see Julie cleaning up out of the corner of his eye.

He was trying not to spend all his time watching Julie, instead focused on his latest creation. So, he didn't see Julie apprehensively watching someone shove a few books into his backpack. He was young, but probably a bit older than Julie. Why he would want to steal some books, Julie had no idea, but it was the wrong day to mess with Julie Molina.

She hadn't had her best week either, and watching someone blatantly try to steal like he was, severely pissed her off. Protocol be damned, Julie stalked over to the individual and blocked his exit. Protocol insisted on not confronting the shop-lifter by any means, but Julie was too annoyed to care.

"Are you going to pay for those books you put in your backpack or can I have them back?"

Julie was impressed with how confident she sounded. Even when he met her glance head-on, she wasn't the least bit intimidated.

"What? Sorry, I think you're thinking of someone else," he replied, but after meeting her gaze the first time, he couldn't hold it as he spoke.

"Just give me the books and I won't call the police," Julie reasoned. She sounded exhausted, and that was because she was; this was honestly the last thing she needed this week, and yet, here she was.

But as soon as the man noticed her change of tone, his mouth twisted into a scowl. "I already told you, you have the wrong guy."

"I saw you put them in your backpack!" Julie argued, her anger crawling back up her throat.

"No, you didn't, because I didn't do anything!" He replied angrily. "Are you going to move, now?"

Julie stood her ground. It was probably quite comical, considering she was a full head shorter than him, but she wasn't moving. "No. Give me back the books."

The man let out a furious snarl. "Get out of my way, bitch."

His words didn't offend her in the slightest. Honestly, she felt sorry for him, that this was how he was raised to treat women, especially someone as young as her. But she was perceptive, and she could tell he was getting agitated and possibly aggressive. She didn't know this guy, she didn't know what he was capable of.

Luke had kept his eye on Julie the entire time, he always did. But as soon as he realized what she was doing, he swore under his breath. He tried to keep his distance, to let her do her thing, but the second the man called Julie a bitch, Luke was up and out of his chair, ready to throw hands.

There was a point in his life where he wouldn't even think about the consequences of his actions, but as he approached, he caught Julie's eyes and figured punching this random guy in the face probably wasn't the best course of action. So, he hung back, close enough to be noticed, but not enough to be considered a threat.

Or so he thought.

The man noticed Julie's eyes focused on something behind him, so he whirled around to see Luke. What with his height and obvious biceps (that were currently on display because what were sleeves anyway?), the man scoffed.

"Is he coming to your rescue or something? Need someone to fight your battles?"

Luke merely raised his eyebrows.

The fact that he was saying all this to a high school girl seriously baffled him.

When the man tried to step around Luke, he side-stepped to be in his way again. Luke didn't smirk, didn't show any facial emotion. It was enough to unnerve him.

With an angry huff, he reached into his backpack to pull out the two books in question. He slammed them into Luke's chest as he stormed past him, muttering, "I don't need this crap."

The moment they heard the door slam closed, Luke's eyes slid over to Julie. Her face was blank, but her eyes were stormy, angry even. He didn't blame her; that guy was a right dick. He hesitantly handed the books back to her. Her gaze flickered to the books and back to him. She probably had no idea how absolutely intimidating she looked.

But then she smiled. A proper, full smile that had Luke merely staring. "Thank you," she said, reaching forward to grab the books. He was hoping she'd say more, but instead she took the books and walked away to put them back in their place.

It was fine, because she had talked to him and he was so ridiculously happy about that. He had also helped her out in that less than stellar situation, but not overbearingly so that he treated her like a damsel in distress who couldn't handle herself. Julie definitely held her own, but he wouldn't be able to live with himself if something happened to her and he was right there sitting in his corner. Pleased with himself and how the situation played out, he skipped back to his seat in the corner, feeling more inspired than ever to finish the current song he was working on.

He glanced up one more time, surprised to catch Julie's sparkling brown eyes already looking at him. She immediately averted her gaze, mouth twitching as she held back a smile.

That was when he decided, no more pining around; it was time to officially ask her out.

What was the worst that could happen? She would say no. And he'd be okay with that, because it was 2021 and respecting women and their decisions shouldn't even be questioned. He'd be disappointed, sure, but for now, he was still holding out hope that maybe she would be into him too.

It was nearing eight, and Luke could tell when he saw the remainder of customers heading for the door. He spotted Julie making her way over too, getting ready to lock the door behind the last customer. He gathered up his things and shoved them into his backpack as slowly as possible. His heart was hammering in his chest and his palms were sweaty; he was actually nervous to ask Julie out.

How couldn't he be? She was absolutely gorgeous.

Luke made it to the door, taking a deep breath before he met her eyes.

Julie stepped in front of him, blocking his exit.

He stumbled in his step, grabbing onto the door frame to keep from toppling straight into her.

"Sorry," she mumbled, tucking a curl behind her ear. For the first time literally ever, Luke observed the tell-tale signs of her shy and apprehensive behaviour. She was always so confident, so in tune with what she seemed to want, this was unusual to him. Not only because of that, but he'd never been this close to her, and he was suddenly finding it extremely hot (and he was barely even wearing a shirt).

Luke tugged on his backpack strap, because he needed to do something. He needed to focus, or else he'd end up doing something stupid, like blurt out that he was in love with her. "No, it's okay. I actually wanted to ask you something anyway."

Her sparkling brown eyes widened for a split second. "Actually, I want to ask you something — are you free to grab a coffee?"

It was safe to say Luke's brain started to short-circuit.

"Uh, what?"

He was so intensely focused on gathering the courage to ask her out, he didn't even know how to reply when she suddenly flipped the plan on him.

He started to lose his mind even more when a soft blush spread over Julie's cheeks. "I'm just closing up, and I could really use a dose of caffeine. I'd really like if you came with me."

Luke can't do more than simply stare at her; his body was failing on him. Julie held his gaze, biting her lip apprehensively with a nervous smile because he wasn't saying anything, and she really hoped she didn't misinterpret his signals. But then he finally fights for control of his body again, and a soft grin spreads onto his lips. "Yeah. I'd really like that."

She matched his grin, closed and locked the door behind her. "I only have a few more things to do. Just a few more minutes."

"No worries," he replied, shoving his hands into his front pockets. "Oh! I'm Luke, by the way."

Julie mulled over the name for a moment. "Julie," she responded.

"I know," he mumbled, eyes solely focused on hers. Even when she looked to him in surprise, he couldn't focus on anything but her eyes. God, she was so gorgeous. "Your name tag," he added, just to ease her fears about him being a stalker (I mean, he was there almost every week...).

Luke leaned against one of the tables as he waited for Julie to finish closing up. He watched her silently, unable to remove the excited smile from his lips the entire time he waited. When she told him he was ready, he diligently held open the door for her and then waited, hands dug into his front pockets, as she locked up behind them.

There was a coffeeshop right around the corner, and as they both started walking in that direction, there was an unspoken agreement, that was where they wanted to go. Luke hated himself and his weirdly awkward nature on their walk over. He couldn't find any words to say to her, none. He chanced a few glances in her direction, but she seemed content with just walking in silence, so he went with the flow.

Once again, he held the door open for her and smiled when looked at him with amused eyes. Julie headed straight for a table near the window, removing her jacket and setting it on the back of her chair. Luke followed, lingering when she didn't sit back down.

"I can go order," he offered, "What would you like?"

Julie looked up at him with a smirk, and dear God, his knees nearly buckled. "I invited you. It's my treat."

"Oh, come on," he nearly whined. "Let's not do this, please."

Julie pursed her lips. She was a very determined person, and if he didn't know that yet, he'd be quick to learn. "I invited you. It's only fair."

He ran a hand through his hair, shooting her the most charming smile he could manage. "Julie, I've been waiting to take you out for months. Please let me buy you a coffee."

All her determination died there and then on the tip of her tongue.

"Okay," she replied with a cheeky smile. She diligently took a seat. "I'll take an iced coffee, please."

Luke nodded, once again, skipping away from her for the second time that night. He ordered Julie an iced coffee (and a cookie because who doesn't like cookies) and a regular coffee for himself. He was already jittery enough but he could never say no to coffee.

"Here you go." He said softly, placing her treats in front of her.

Julie took a quick sip of her coffee and narrowed her gaze on Luke. "I want to hear more. You said you've been waiting to take me out for months."

Luke had never felt him blush so quickly before in his life. He nearly choked on the coffee he was currently drinking. "It sounds really creepy when you say it like that."

"I know you've been coming to the shop for months," she continued, breaking apart her cookie. She wasn't looking at him, and it honestly made Luke all the more nervous. She made him nervous. "And you've never bought anything, but you're always writing in a book."

"I needed a quiet place to write music and I found your shop."

Julie nodded along, humming. "I catch you looking at me a lot."

Luke scratched the back of his head. "Well, honestly, that's not entirely my fault. I can't help but stare at beautiful things."

Julie looked up at him with a smirk. "That was smooth. I feel like it's only fair I be as honest." She leaned her elbows onto the table, leaning in close. Luke started sweating again. "I always look for you during my shifts."

It was as if the air was entirely knocked out of his lungs. It was the reassurance he was looking for, the acknowledgement that his feelings weren't one-sided, but it was a lot to take in at once.

"You're the reason I come back every week," he admitted, the words flowing freely out of him now that he knew with certainty she felt something for him too.

Julie leaned back in her chair. Her eyes tracked his movements, mostly because she didn't know what to say next. Where do they go from here?

Who makes the next move?

"I'll keep dropping by. But under one condition," Luke reasoned, hiding his smirk with his coffee mug.

Julie found herself leaning in again. There was something about him that was so alluring, always drawing her in for more. "What's that?" She didn't want to give her real answer: anything.

"I'll keep coming by if you give me your number," he told her, running his finger around the rim of his mug. "Maybe go on another date with me?"

Julie didn't reply at first; she kept him waiting until he looked at her with curious eyes. She kept him on the hook, just enough that for a moment, he wavered in his confidence. "I'd love to give you my number."

He let out an obvious sigh of relief. Julie was definitely going to wreck him in the most beautiful of ways.

"And that date?"

Julie clicked her tongue, monitoring the way his eyes absentmindedly dropped to her lips. "I'll decide that after you walk me home. But your chances are looking pretty good."

A delicious smirk crawled over Luke's mouth, and now it was all Julie could focus on.

"Then I guess I should up my game," he winked, shrugging as he added, "Just in case."

When Luke walked Julie home hours later, she confidently latched onto his hand, mostly just to give him an ego boost because he acted like the perfect gentleman all night. And when he lingered at the door, unsure whether it was too soon to kiss her or not, she leaned up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss dangerously close to the corner of his lips.

"How's next Friday night?"

It took Luke a moment to form the words after that, but he was anxiously waiting for her response.

"I'm off at eight, you know where I'll be." Even with all the coy flirting, she couldn't help but shoot him an excited grin.

Luke stuffed his hands back into his front pockets and started retreating down her walkway. "I'll, uh — I'll text you."

Julie leaned against the front door. "I'll be waiting."

And somehow, after months of pining on both ends, all it took was one attempted theft to bring Luke and Julie together.

It would take a lot more than that to separate them now.

taglist: @grootsgillespie || @jayhalsteadcpd || @moreflowersthanweeds || @well-hes-just-too-cute || @echocharm17618 || @leopard-print-slippers || @jandthephantoms || @scribblingfangirl || @n0wornever || @simpformolina || @only-trust-fictional-characters || @snowmione18 || @tellurphantoms || @knitsessed || @elitharavenclaw || @wakeupfantoms || @uselessnerdnherblahg || @katie-navarro || @bookwormswillruletheworld || @lmaohuh || @thatsmyverb || @sophiphi || @kybee1497 || @lukewearingbeanies || @sapphireamethystvsco || @constantly-singing || @helloilovejatp || @your-typical-ingenue || @nonickslander || @s-h-a-d-o-w-s || @asdfghjkl-fanfics |

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #jatp fanworks appreciation week #juke #julie x luke #luke x julie #luke patterson #julie molina #alex mercer #reggie peters #juke au #jatp au #jatp fic #jatp fics #juke fic #juke fics #fics

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proper-goodnight · 3 years

Text

Welcome Home (01)

Summary: Five Hargreeves had been through two apocalypses, joined the Temp Commission, and scraped his siblings asses off the ground more times than he could count. Now, dying in a barn with seemingly no way out, he makes a very crucial decision. One that doesn’t turn out entirely as expected.

Warnings: Strong language, blood/gore, etc.

There was one thing about laying in a bed of his own blood with the barrel of a gun aimed between his eyes and that was that it brought Five’s world crashing into an entirely new perspective. He could reflect without any of the responsibility of getting up and trying again, no other motives or expectations of saving the world or dragging his siblings off their asses and hoping that they would get their acts together when he needed them to. The last two times, they hadn’t, and looking around the barn, he didn’t expect a third either.

Nevermind his sibling’s ability to keep a timed schedule, or bother to even do the simplest of tasks if it meant their lives or the rest of the world simultaneously hung in the balance on one very uneven scale. No, there was always a bigger priority that took precedence and damn Five for even bothering to try. His entire lifetime and two apocalypses still wasn’t enough to undo the utter shit that his life had become.

But he could think about the past and how much he fucked up in his life, how he could have been better, or what the future may have held for him and what he would do if there was somehow a way that he could turn back the clock and make entirely different choices.

Blinking to the end of the world, joining the Commission, stopping an apocalypse twice in the span of a couple of weeks and finding his place back with his family in time to save them only to turn out that he hadn’t. Oddly enough, despite Five having the ability to manipulate time, he seemed to be the only one that never had enough of it.

His head fell to the side, cheek pressed into the solid woodwork of the barn to look at the crumpled bodies of his younger siblings.

All pallid skin and eyes wide open with disbelief. His family was dead--had died--going on the third time now and proving no easier to deal with than the last. Their wide eyes and full irises, the blood that soaked through the barn’s flooring and puddling beneath them in a gory mess, their stench assaulting his nose.

No matter how many times he had seen it in the last few weeks, it hit just as hard as it had the first time. Five’s expression twisted, and he coughed, his body shuddering with every forceful gasp, pulling air into his lungs that wouldn’t come.

A part of him strongly contemplated doing nothing while he laid on the ground with his life in someone else’s hands. It would have been easier, he knew, to let everything go and give up fighting this long and arduous cycle; maybe finally get the night’s rest that he had been missing out on since his time jump to the end of the world.

He’d be dead, but that was a minor hiccup in the grand scheme of things.

If his reality wasn’t still blurring into focus, if the pain keeping him awake wasn’t so fucking obvious, he may very well have. It occurred to him then, casting a look beyond the blurred edges framing his vision, that he wasn’t making the decision just for himself.

In the very back of his mind where he had a tendency to shove all things that would either piss him off or send him over the edge, he could hear the condescending laughter of the Handler, his father’s infamous I told you so pounding against the inside of his skull when he’d advised him against jumping through time in the first place.

Maybe if he hadn’t, then things could’ve changed. Maybe he could have helped them or saved Vanya from herself.

Then again, maybe thinking that he would ever have an ounce of free will made him just as much of an idiot as the rest of them. Maybe it was all destined to happen, and none of it had ever meant anything.

That didn’t mean that Five wouldn’t try.

Trembling fingers curled into loose fists. It hurt, the strain of even the smallest twitch sent a sharp stabbing sensation through every single muscle, splitting through his skull and down through his abdomen until he was gasping. It dulled his senses, the blurring fringes of his vision moving in, spreading, threatening to pull him into the dark and take him. It laughed at his efforts, willing him to finally give up.

Several decades spent alone at the end of the world, years spent with the Commission, two apocalypses in the span of a few weeks was enough.

Nonetheless, Five was still the more stubborn bastard.

Seconds. That was all he needed. Not hours, or even minutes, but all he needed was a few seconds and the willpower to not punch each and every one of his siblings for the hell they unknowingly put him through to keep them alive.

In his hands, the light expanded. Five felt himself being yanked upward by an invisible force. It felt as simple as time grabbing his hand, leading him past a flurry of rewinding images, bodies lurching upward, blood stains levitating from the woodwork, bullets returning to their weapons, wounds closing, a sense of rejuvenation, of life.

Newfound energy, a deep intake of breath and there was no pain. Only relief. Just a few seconds, a few agonizingly long seconds…

His body moved in slow motion toward the door, the single most subtle inkling of hope igniting in his chest--a feeling that he hadn’t experienced in a long time. A part of him had almost forgotten if complete idiocy wasn’t the cause of ruining many of his easily salvageable problems.

That hope, like so many others, was quickly snuffed out in service to an alternative outcome.

Just as everything moved back into its original position, Five was thrown off his feet, everything reverting back in one rapid blur--too quick for him to keep up with. The sharp pain returned, wounds reopening themselves as the bullet pierced him again.

He cried out.

The bit of breath that he had managed to grab was snatched from his lungs, the blurred fringes swirling in, and when his back hit the ground below him, he came to the realization that he should’ve made his peace with God before trying this. Every single muscle was tight and shuddering into panicked gasps, and then it all released, leaving him panting and looking up at a familiar tiled ceiling. Weakly, he turned his head sideways only to find six other curious pairs of eyes looking at him, bewildered.

“Five?” Something was wrong. He was looking straight into the face of Luther, much shorter and thinner framed Luther standing next to an equally younger and dumbfounded Allison.

“Five?! Oh, my God! Where have you been?” Slowly, his head rotated to catch Klaus and Ben on the other side. All young. All kids.

“Forget that! What happened to you?” Ben piped up, shoving his other brother out of the way to close the distance between them--Klaus shouting a protest in response.

Five moved first, much faster, swinging his legs over the table to drop to the floor. His hands flew up as they rounded on him, palms out and retreating as he took them in, scanned every single face, listened to every single high pitched prepubescent tone of voice. It was them. Alive and well and completely unaware of what hell he’d been through the last few weeks.

How far had he gone back?

They hesitated in approaching him now, his continuous retreat leaving little room to embrace him and welcome him home with the open arms that he knew they wanted. This was not happening… This couldn’t have been happening! His chest heaved with every bated breath, his brows drawn into a scowl, retreating until he couldn’t back up anymore. His spine met the wall, almost shrinking underneath their prying gazes, all wide eyed and full of concern.

“Five, are you okay?” Allison was the first to brave the distance. She persisted, and he retreated, his shoulder scraping against the corner as he moved sideways to the other end of the kitchen. The heels of his shoes scuffed against the tile floor, pivoting backwards. His hand braced against the wall with another quick sweep of their faces.

“Stop!” He snapped. “All of you!” Sweat beaded his forehead, soaking through his uniform. The pain that hit him so suddenly felt very reminiscent of when he’d been shot at the barn, stumbling with a sudden limp. It knocked the breath out of him; electricity shot up the very center of his chest. He clutched it. His breathing, ragged and heavy, was the finishing touches before he buckled forward.

When he pried his fingers away from his abdomen, there was a fresh burst of blood, scarlet coating the tips. He’d gone back, but his wounds were still there. “No,” he mumbled. His free hand raked through his hair. “No, no, no, no… shit, fuck, goddammit…” The amount of expletives that left his lips were surprising even for him, squeezing his eyes shut as he processed.

He’d done a number wrong somewhere. A dent in his equation. He could fix this.

“Five-” Luther said more tentatively.

“Shut up.” Five shushed him. He waved dismissively, turning his back. He wracked his brain, flipped it around, molded it over and the only conclusion feasible was that he was the one that had messed up this time.

He’d go so far as to say again, but considering that everyone was still breathing, he could give himself a pat on the back.

They’d grow. Eventually.

His hand gripped the counter for support. All at once, several pairs of footsteps moved toward him, but he held his hand up, inhaled deep through his nose and shuddered an exhale.

They may have been intact, but he wasn’t.

Figured.

“How long have I been gone?” Five asked, straightening stiffly. He turned to face them, catching their concerned expressions in the very center of his vision. It felt judgemental, prying for an answer that he didn’t have.

Now they know how he felt. He cocked his eyebrows. “A few weeks, a few months? Years?” He prompted when no one answered.

“Uh, just--just a couple weeks.” Allison answered. “We thought that you got lost, or died or…”

“Where is Dad?” He went on, gripping the edge of the counter to help guide himself along. “Is he here?”

“He’s out on a trip. Said he’d be back in a couple days. What are you….?” Luther moved to help him, but Five warded him back. He held up his hands. “I’m just trying to-”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Are you okay?”

“Look, the only thing that’s obvious besides your kindergarten crush on Allison is that you’re incompetent. I have gotten this far by myself, and I do not need any of you to tell me what I should be doing, got it?” He had hit a little too close to home. He could see it in their faces, the obvious embarrassment in Luther’s eyes, that and an obvious confusion.

“Who is Allison?”

Five’s lips parted to respond, one more shuddering breath escaping him before his eyes rolled into the back of his head as everything suddenly went black.

Five’s eyes slowly opened to find the familiar darkness of his bedroom. The mattress felt soft underneath him, turning his head to find the equations sketched into the wall. On the bed stand to his left lay a plate with a cup of milk and a peanut butter and banana sandwich, and to the left sat Vanya, looking at him with wide curious eyes and clear worry.

Welcome home.

#the umbrella academy #number five #klaus #tua s2 #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #allison hargreeves #luther hargreeves #ben hargreeves #tua

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kgyeomiex · 4 years

Text

Rush

“Real love is always chaotic. You lose control; you lose perspective. You lose the ability to protect yourself. The greater the love, the greater the chaos. It’s a given and that’s the secret.”

Imagine meeting someone that impacts your life in a way you wouldn’t be able to imagine. Luna always struggled trying to get where wanted in life by working ten times harder than most people at her campus... But she does meet someone who is used to having it easy… What will happen when Luna and the person she meets both start getting to know each other.. Will things work out for the both of them?

Shining~

More Chapters:

Here We Go Again | The Fool

Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meeting someone who was a big pain in the ass wasn’t part of the plan. All I wanted was to focus on my study and just travel to countries that have been on my bucket list for years now. However, he made my plans completely change. He included himself in my later on plans… He made me want to fight for something else besides my damn future… I don’t whether meeting him was a blessing or a curse.

Something about meeting that one person is a clear message, however, I’m still trying to figure out what that message could be…

Was it destiny or a lesson?

“We’re here!” My best friend Claire shouts as she pulls into the college campus and I stared at the window and smiled. This was my junior year of college… Just this year and next year and I’m hopefully off working for a huge company out in New York getting my life settled...

“Can you believe it… We’re almost out of here.” I said as I sat there and stared out from the window getting a view of the campus and watching students coming out of cars with their suitcases by their side.

“Tell me about it, I feel old.” Claire starts complaining like a complete granny and I rolled my eyes.

“Girl the day just started and you’re already complaining?” I asked Claire rolling my eyes and I could hear her laugh right next to me and I smiled.

I know school hasn’t started yet but the more I keep looking at the campus the more I realized I should try to get my shit together before my last year of college... I mean, to be honest, it’s sad to say that I don’t have any college stories to share when I’m older, but I want to achieve my goal… This year it’s all about focusing.

“Oh my god! I heard they are throwing a party already at the campus later on! You joining me, right?” Claire asks as she moves her shoulder from side to side hoping to convince me, but she should know the answer.

“Claire you kn-” before I could finish my sentence my phone suddenly began to ring.

“Hold that thought.”

I pulled out my phone and was quick to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Is this Luna?” Wow, I didn’t even get a hello back, instead, I got a question. Who is this calling anyway?

“Yes, who’s calling?”

“Well, I see that you applied to be a bartender at the bar Poison. We looked at your resume and… Well, we are interested in having you work for us.”

My eyes widen. I didn’t expect to get the job, I mean I worked as a bartender once but quit because I worked with irresponsible people. Everyone acted younger than their actual age and I felt like I worked harder than others.

“Of course!” I blurted out without thinking twice and I could feel Claire staring right at me. She’s probably judging me, but I don’t care, I just got a job at the beginning of my Junior year.

“Good! Can you start today at 6?” I was about to start finding excuses, but I realized I had nothing to do besides unpacking my belongings, plus it would give you an excuse not to attend back to a school college party.

“Sounds perfect, see you then.” From that point on we both hanged up and I looked at Claire and smiled.

“Well looks like I can’t join you at tonight’s party.”

“Why not?”

“I have work.” I winked at Claire and I could see that she didn’t look too fond of my decision, but she couldn’t say anything. But to be honest I rather work than go to a party and do nothing there. Yes, I know I’m still going to be in a party environment but I’m going to be making money not going to look like a fool and feel like a complete outcast.

“Luna!”

“What?! It’s either money or the party, what would you choose if you were me?” I was quick to change the question on her and the only thing she could do at this point is just sigh.

That’s what I thought.

“I hate you,” Claire mumbles and I quickly wrapped my arm around her shoulder and pulled her into a hug.

“You love me.”

The moment we finally settled everything in our dorm room I was quick to rush through my closet and look for something cute to wear. The first thing I learned about being a bartender is to be social and to always look your best. In order to get customers those are the major secrets, you needed to succeed.

“Aish what should I wear?” I mumbled talking to myself and I glanced at Claire and could see her looking for an outfit for tonight’s party as well. Eventually, I finally found a decent outfit for the night

Outfit: http://weheartit.com/entry/194640948/in-set/11990615-fashion?context_user=Omfgbrandyy&page=21

(Besides the hat)

“What do you think?” I asked Claire spinning around and she looked at me from head to toe and had a poker face. She was making it very difficult to read her facial expression.

“You don’t like it...” I murmured looking down. I heard laughter escape Claire's lips and I quickly looked up and saw her there smiling.

“Of course, I love the outfit dummy, just felt like bursting your bubble.” I rolled my eyes and walked back to my suitcase. It’s hard trying to make sure you look good but don’t look like a complete fool.

“Ah, I’m still upset you can’t show up to the party! I heard there is going to be cute boys there.” Claire knew cute boys were my weakness, but not for tonight’s party.

“Nice try.” I winked at Claire before I got up and walked off to apply some makeup for tonight’s job.

Jimin’s Point of View

“I have no idea why I’m even here.” I said as I dropped my suitcase there on the ground and Yoongi stares at me and shakes his head in disapproval.”

“Listen, maybe if you would have stayed out of trouble back at home, we wouldn’t be here in the first place.” I took one glance at Yoongi and there I see him smiling after making such a harsh comment.

Aish I don’t understand why I constantly have to make an image that everyone wants just because my father owns this huge CEO company. My father and I are two different people. People should mind their damn business and let me live.

“Fuck off, I didn’t ask to be the son of a CEO.”

“You’re annoying.” I could hear Yoongi mumbling and I rolled my eyes. I opened up my suitcase and just sat beside it sighing. While I’m here I didn’t want anyone knowing who I was. Since I’m here at college I might as well try to live a normal student life and just party it out.

“Anyways have you seen this?” I asked Yoongi grabbing a hold of a flyer I randomly snatched from the hall and Yoongi just stared at the poster and then back at me.

“What about it?”

Tonight, was a welcome back party down at the campus, and I know I got put into college to get my act together, but right now all I wanted to do was have fun. I didn’t care what anyone else had to say, I was going to do what I wanted to do regardless anyone had to say.

“Let’s go.”

“To the party? Uh… Is there a pass option on this?” Yoongi asks as he was thrown on his bed and I just stared at him and threw a pillow in his direction.

“Can you not be lazy for a second and work with me here?” Yoongi sat up and just stared at me annoyed. I invited Yoongi to come down to Northeastern with me just so I wouldn’t go through this journey completely alone. However, Yoongi seems to want to kill my fun plans.

“Fine!”

I smiled in satisfaction and knew I had to get ready for the big party, had to dress to impress. I mean I’m here to have fun, right?

Luna’s Point of View

The moment I walked into the bar; I was expecting to have such an awkward welcoming where I would have to introduce myself about 6,000 times just to look for the manager… However, the complete opposite happened. The moment I stepped into the bar, a tall bald man walked up to me and knew right away who I was. Probably because I was here before the customers arrived, but in no time, he introduced me to all the workers around and I was now behind the counter getting ready to get my job done.

Although I’m here to work and get my job done, I was still excited to have a chance to meet new people and who knows maybe make connections.

“Luna?” I heard my name being called so I quickly looked to my left and there I see a handsome guy standing right before me.

“Oh, that’s me…” I raised my hand and the young man walked over to me and he smiles brightly. I have no idea who this guy is, and I have no idea how he even knows my name. But I’ll be nice.

“Hi! I’m Jackson, I’m also a bartender at this bar.” Jackson pulls me into a hug, and I hugged him back still confused but I just went along with the whole thing.

“You must know this place pretty well then.”

“Of course, I’ll be the one to update you on the 411 and all the hot gossips,” Jackson says before giving a quick wink and walking off.

I couldn’t help but laugh. To be honest I found it a bit weird to have a stranger come up to me and hug me but as soon as Jackson spoke, I realized I was going to get along with him perfectly fine. On top of that, he’s extremely good looking… So, I don’t have a problem.

Jimin’s Point of View

Although every time I would glance a Yoongi and see him look completely miserable, I tried my best to cheer him up. I grabbed both of us two red cups with alcohol in it and hoped that would fix it.

I looked around the room and there were tons of beautiful girls all around me. The music was pounding, and the house was completely crowded. To be honest, this was my first ever going to a college party, but it’s actually how I expected it to be.

“See anyone you’re interested in yet?” Yoongi asks as he shouts over the loud music and I looked around and looked at him.

“I do,” I pointed to a girl leaning against the wall talking to a group of her friends in a red dress. Wow... I have no intentions of dating while I'm here. I’m not planning to date at all until the time is right. Right now, all I want to do is have fun.

“I’ll be back.” I winked at Yoongi before I was off trying to capture the girl's attention in the first place.

Luna’s Point of View

After meeting Jackson, work felt less boring. Jackson was by my side cracking jokes here and there and making me laugh nonstop. Today was a pretty busy day, especially because it’s Friday, but they're very interesting people here tonight.

“I’m surprised you agreed to work, instead of attending tonight's mini party,” Jackson comments as he opens a bottled beer and I looked at him. How did he know about the college welcome back party? Does that mean Jackson goes to your college as well?

“So, I’m assuming you're a student at Northeastern?” I asked leaning against the counter and Jackson laughs.

“I do. And this morning I’m pretty sure I seen you come out of a car with a girl by your side with a couple of suitcases in front of the campus.” Wow, this boy recognized me from earlier. Pretty good memory if you ask me.

“How did you know it was me? What if it was my twin sister?” I quickly flipped the question and Jackson's eyes widen and then smiled.

“That’s a nice try, but I’m sure you and your twin wouldn’t have the same earrings on purpose.” I instantly froze and Jackson laughs. Wow, a guy who pays attention to detail? He was a rare species.

“You know Jackson... I have a feeling we’re getting get along perfectly fine.”

“You know it.” Jackson sends me a wink and then was off handing customers their orders. You know what although today might have been my first day of college and I'm working… I was having a good time.

You know what, maybe this year was going to be better than expected.

Jimin’s Point of View

Did she just reject me? The moment I walked up to her, I made sure I said everything that she wanted to hear. I called her beautiful, I told her that she was the only one I had my eyes on and that I would treat her like the queen she is… But I got rejected.

I looked around and at this moment on I feel like maybe coming to this party was a mistake. I looked to my left and there I see Yoongi already speaking to a girl smiling a damn fool.

I walked over to Yoongi and he looks right at me and remains quiet.

“I think it’s time to go,” I said nudging Yoongi's side and he quickly gets up and looks at the girl he’s talking to.

“Can you excuse me for a minute?” The girl gets up and walks off and I was now left alone with Yoongi.

“What’s up?” Yoongi asks looking right at me and all I could do was just look at him.

“This party is lame, Let’s go.” Yoongi automatically smiles and to be honest I have no idea why. I mean I didn’t make any jokes or anything...

Did you miss something here?

“Yoongi.”

“Look, I know you haven’t been getting game like that… But I’m having a good time.” Yoongi just shrugs and from that point on he takes a sip of a red cup and smirks.

“Whatever I'm leaving.” From that point on I walked off and just left the lame party. I mean something I should have done a long time ago.

Luna’s Point of View

My shift has come to an end and I took a look at the time and realized it was early. Well not too early but enough to maybe unpack a bit till I knock out eventually. It was 11 pm and I knew right away that my roommate probably is still partying. I mean, to be honest, I wouldn’t be surprised.

One by one I walked across the campus and walked my way to my dorm room, but I’m not going to lie I was a bit paranoid. It was still late, and I know at this time the people that would be walking around would-be people who are intoxicated with alcohol.

When humans are intoxicated and have alcohol in their systems, they would do crazy things and not remember a thing the next day.

One by one I was silently walking back to my dorm till suddenly all I hear is mumbling.

“Fuck.”

Should I turn around or keep walking? Mmmm maybe I should just walk off, I’m not trying to die today. I continued to walk and again I heard cursing.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me!”

At this point on I picked up my feet and tried to walk faster and faster till without realizing it I dropped my keys. I stopped walking and picked up my keys till

“Excuse me,”

Thinking I was going to get attacked, I screamed until I opened my eyes and there, I see a male figure right in front of me.

“You dropped this.”

“Ah, thanks.” I awkwardly blurted out as I received my keys and he just stare right at me.

“Did I scare you or something?” Wait was this guy behind me making the noise? Well, should I confess and say he did scare me? Ah Nah.

“Of course, not…”

The moment I said that the stranger suddenly blurts out laughing and I just silently stared at him feeling dumbfounded.

What was funny?

“Well, if you weren’t scared…. That’s a pretty weird way of saying hello to a stranger.” He says referring to my scream and I rolled my eyes.

“Okay I might have been scared, but can you blame me? Look at the time and look at me. I’m a female, anything could happen.” The stranger just simply smiles and silently nods his head.

“Well…. I mean the good thing is you don’t have to worry about having anyone interested in you, you don’t have much to offer.” That same stranger looked at me from head to toe and I felt completely offended.

“Excuse me?” I asked making sure I was hearing correctly, and all the stranger does is chuckle. This boy has some nerves…

“It’s okay, you’ll eventually accept the truth.”

I wanted to scream at him but what was the point? This boy seems like a complete asshole, a guy who seems like he was so full of himself and doesn’t care about others. That’s how he rubbed off as.

“You know what, I don’t understand why I’m wasting my time talking to you,” I said rolling my eyes and from that point on I walked off leaving that complete asshole of a stranger standing there alone.

“Wait!”

I didn’t bother stopping, instead, I kept walking until someone grabbed my hand. I stopped and see the same stranger right there before me.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what my name is?” Is this boy delusional? Does he think he can attract girls this way by being rude and they will just throw themselves at him because that’s the case he’s gladly mistaking.

“No, why would I?” I asked looking at the stranger and he smiles.

“Because I know you would like to know who’s this handsome hunk.” I couldn’t help but bust out laughing and I tapped his shoulder, and I shook my head.

“Never in a million years would I have thought that.” I tried to walk off again but he ran up to me and stood right in front of me not giving me a chance to run off.

“I know you want me, stop playing games, and let’s back to my dorm.” He says getting closer to me and I quickly stretched out my arms and stopped him from moving any closer.

“Listen, screw boy, I don’t want to know your name, I don’t want to go back to your dorm and most importantly I’m wasting my breath even speaking to you… So, do you mind?”

I walked past him and as I tried to walk past my dorm there, I hear the stranger say.

“My name is Park Jimin!”

I rolled my eyes and continued with my life.

To be Continued

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language-of-love · 4 years

Note

18 because i am very much missing drinking a beer on the patio of my favorite place

agree to disagree... (mild E, Summer Soft prompt series)

David and Patrick get a little carried away after a long day and a few drinks with friends.

....

The condensation on his bottle has loosened the label enough for his fingernail to finally snag it free from the glass and he begins to slowly scratch at it, his focus hazy from the alcohol, the long day and the freckle hidden beneath the sweater where his thumb is moving back and forth across David’s shoulder. It’s his favorite freckle. And as much as he loves the company of their friends, he wishes they were at home, where he could give that freckle the attention it deserves. He’d trace it with his tongue and kiss the skin around it until David laughs and begs him to stop, which he won’t, because it’s his favorite freckle.

It’s been a long day. Too slow for most of the day and then slammed until closing, leading to a bit of bickering about whether to restock tonight or in the morning. David had eventually relented and they’d spent the half hour needed to set things right, but he’d huffed and puffed about it, leaving Patrick, well, equally annoyed and turned on and eager to get his husband alone.

But they love their Friday night hangs with Stevie and Twyla, with an occasional drop in from Ray or a random other friend or two. They’d all just started converging outside the Cafe earlier in the summer, Patrick and David always arriving first, with Stevie wandering in whenever and Twyla dropping into a chair with mozzarella sticks and fries as soon as she switched the sign on the door to closed. One of them would always volunteer to replenish drinks so Twyla could get off her feet and by the end of the night, they’d all be happily tipsy with greasy fingers and aching bellies from laughing too hard, usually at David.

Tonight is no different and Patrick’s gaze shifts from his beer bottle to David, unsurprised to see three fries trapped between his fingers in the hand he’s currently gesticulating wildly with as he tells the story of Roland thinking their bath salts were rock candy and the chaos that had ensued.

“That man is a menace to society,” Stevie grumbles under her breath. She’s wearing her hair in a ponytail again, which Patrick thinks looks really great on her, but he’ll never say as much. He’s just really happy to see her thriving and he won’t risk an unwelcome compliment derailing that.

“And Jocelyn is either a saint or a masochist, I’m not sure which,” he agrees before draining the last of his beer.

“She has to be a little of both,” David mutters through his mouthful of fries.

Patrick’s attention shifts back to David again and his eyes fall to his lips, pink from his wine and greasy from the fries and his ability to focus on anything else ceases to exist. His neck, already dewy from the humid evening, grows even hotter beneath his collar as he thinks about how badly he wants to lean in and taste…

David’s head turns and their eyes meet and even though no words are spoken, relief washes over Patrick as shared wants and intentions are communicated loud and clear.

“Patrick’s getting drunk, so we’re gonna head home.”

His reflex is to argue that he’s only had three beers and is nowhere near drunk, but he keeps his mouth shut at David’s excuse and just shakes his head, smiling at Twyla and Stevie who are looking at both of them with way too knowing smiles.

“Leave your mess, it’s my turn to clear,” Stevie says as she pushes her chair back and stands up, waving off Twyla’s protest as she grabs the necks of empty bottles and snatches David’s wine from his hand to drain the glass herself.

“Menace,” David teases.

“Saint,” Stevie responds, giving Patrick a quick nod before disappearing into the Cafe.

Patrick’s on his feet now, reflexively reaching out for David’s waist as he goes to stand next to him by his chair.

“See you boys in the am,” Twyla says through a yawn and Patrick just smiles and blows her a kiss. She wrinkles her nose and gives them a little wave and Patrick leans into David’s side as he turns to lead them up the street towards their house. It’s a little too warm to be pressed this close and Patrick immediately begins to feel a bit flushed, but he’s been needing contact for hours and he’s too greedy to let go.

“Think that was too obvious?”

“Don’t care,” Patrick replies, his voice a bit crackly from the need clawing up his throat.

They’ve only made it two blocks when he feels David’s hand at the small of his back begin to tug the fabric of his shirt free from his pants and it’s half a block later when Patrick’s control slips and he’s dragging David down a side street so he can press him up against the chipped brick wall of the Post Office and finally get a taste of his mouth. He gasps against David’s lips as ringed fingers slide up the inside the back of his shirt, grabbing at his sweaty skin and dragging him somehow closer.

“Too hot,” he mumbles against David’s mouth, referring both to the rapidly rising temperature of their bodies and David himself, but he’s too busy kissing him again to elaborate. He tastes even better than Patrick had imagined and he welcomes his tongue, sucking gently on it until he hears tiny whimpers escape David’s throat. Releasing it, they both take a few heaving breaths and make an attempt at centering themselves. It’s late and the town around them is quiet and deserted and there’s a stirring part of him that wonders if he’s as adventurous as the moment wants him to be. Taking stock of his body, his hands are already wandering and David’s breath is hot against his mouth and...

“Come on,” David whispers, so softly that Patrick barely hears it through the sound of his heart pounding between his ears, but he feels the tug at his elbow and lets David lead him further around the building until a dark, more private spot is found. The brick is surprisingly cool as he leans back against it, but he doesn’t really have time to register more than that before David’s mouth is like fire licking at his neck and his hands are working efficiently to unbuckle his belt.

“Oh fuck,” he somehow manages to breath out, gasping into the humid night as David unzips his jeans and takes a firm grip of his cock over his boxers. He knows from that first touch that this is going to be quick, and dirty, and he’s sure David can feel him swelling at the excitement of the thought of it.

His eyes had fallen shut with pleasure, but he can feel David’s gaze on him, so he meets it, working hard to stay focused on the heat he sees there as David’s hand slides over his sensitive skin, quickly driving him to the brink of insanity.

“I really annoyed you tonight, huh?” David goads, kissing Patrick before he can respond, which Patrick is thankful for. Words aren’t his friends right now, at least no coherent ones. David’s kiss is languid, almost teasing, a stark contrast to the urgency of his fingers, making Patrick feel a bit off balance and out of control. But David knows what he’s doing.

He really knows.

Patrick’s sweating through his shirt and his thighs feel clammy in his jeans, but god, he’s in heaven, close to it anyway, closer than he’s prepared to be. He wants this to last, but needs the release just as badly. Pulling back from David’s mouth, he manages to half mumble and half moan that he’s close, which earns him a few slower strokes as his husband lowers himself to his knees. There’s a bit of a grumble from David about his pants and the grass, causing a laugh to breach Patrick’s haze of pleasure.

His love for this man goes to his very core.

At the first touch of David’s tongue, Patrick loses any semblance of reality, caring not at all about their whereabouts, only on David and his mouth and the press of his fingers at the back of his thigh and the button of his jeans pressing into his hip where it’s trapped against David’s palm. He comes on a groan with his fingers fisted in David’s hair and his other hand pressed flat against the bricks in a feeble attempt at keeping himself steady.

Thankfully, David’s back on his feet and leaning against him almost immediately, saving his buckling knees from sending him to the grass. David’s hand is soft as it cradles his face, his eyes warm as he smiles in amusement at Patrick’s near collapse.

“Proud of yourself, I see,” Patrick jokes as soon as he’s caught his breath.

“I got my husband to have sex in public, so yeah, I’m taking a bow.”

“We’ve had sex in public before.”

“In a car is not in public, Patrick, we’ve discussed this.”

Finally feeling steady on his feet, Patrick shifts his weight to the small of his back so he can free his hand from the wall and place his palms on David’s chest.

“Agree,” he whispers as he slides his hands down the front of David’s sweater between them towards his waist, “to disagree.”

David’s hips sway towards him as Patrick’s hands find the waistband of his drawstring pants, the crisp hair on his belly tickling his knuckles as he slides his fingers beneath the fabric. Patrick is still learning the nuances of David’s wardrobe, but the easy access of his favorite style of pants is definitely something he’s come to appreciate.

Tipping his chin up, he smiles against David’s mouth as he snakes his hand into David’s briefs, nipping at his bottom lip as he grazes the tips of his fingers over his half-hard cock. David whimpers and Patrick touches him more purposefully, taking advantage of his mouth dropping open to slide his tongue inside, kissing him deep, tasting himself as he takes back control.

“Okay, I agree,” David pants as he pulls his mouth free, collapsing his body further into Patrick as he braces his forearms on the brick on either side of Patrick’s head. It brings David’s mouth right up against his lips, breath heaving as his hips rock into Patrick’s touch.

“You know I like it better when you stand your ground,” he whispers, nudging David’s nose as he gives him a less than gentle squeeze.

“Fine, fuck it, I take it back, Patrick…” His breathing has gone shallow and his bottom lip is trapped between his teeth and Patrick knows he must be close and quick decisions have to be made.

“Lean back,” he orders, and David does, moving his weight to his hands so Patrick has room to free him from his pants and move his sweater out of the way of the inevitable mess. David’s coming into his hand after a few more quick pulls, his forehead dropping to Patrick’s as he tries to catch his breath as Patrick works him through the aftershocks. He loves stroking David until he feels him begin to soften, drawing small moans from the back of his throat in pleasure and protest. Patrick finds his mouth for a lingering kiss as he wipes his hand on the wall, wishing he’d had the time and agility to finish David with his mouth. But, he knows David has his hand sanitizer in his pocket and he knows he’ll hear him complain all the way home and he knows they’ll both be worked up again by the time they get there to do things right in the privacy of their bedroom.

He loves how he knows David so well and how well David knows him. It’s become his absolute favorite thing about being married, an unexpected understanding of all of the complexities and imperfections of another person. He loves finding new avenues to love David the more that is revealed. And this, having messy, public sex after a frustrating day, he’ll learn something from this, too.

“My hand sanitizer is in…”

“Your pocket, I know.”

He’ll get it in a second. Right now, he just wants to kiss his husband a little more. Smiling up at him he waits the few beats it takes for David to catch on, which he does, and they meet each other halfway.

#david x patrick #david rose #patrick brewer #schitt's creek #schitts creek #my sc fic #summer soft #hudders-and-hiddles

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jafndaegur · 4 years

Text

Sesskag Week 2020 | Day 1: Crime

He-who-annoyed-her

Sesskag

a/n: If you accuse me of writing a wannabe BNA au, then I mean...youre not wrong but way to call me out lol

Kagome took a deep breath when she woke up. The unfamiliar room and the unfamiliar sounds of a city that wasn't her own caused her to pause and bite her lip. Sitting up was a disorienting affair. It felt as though the air hammered against her from every side, and it took every second of her waking to try and just focus on herself and the action of sitting up in bed.

"You're focusing too hard on the wrong things," the low voice from the other side of her door huffed, slightly muffled. "Just breathe. Let everything flow around you."

She growled and grit out, "I'm not in the mood."

There was no reply and she welcomed the silence.

That man on the other side of the door infuriated her. If she could even call him a man for that matter. That male. She groaned and rested her forehead against her palms, wishing she was anywhere else but here.

Still...she wondered how solid his advice was, he who annoyed her. Taking a few stabilizing breaths, she focused on the sounds and shifted pass the sensations—like strokes through water. Gradually and painstakingly slow, the overstimulation eased away. The bombardment that had assaulted her mind, all those irritants that she couldn't quite name, finally petered off. Taking a breath of relief, she slid her legs off the bed and dressed for the day.

Opening her door, the back side of he-who-annoyed-her faced her from across the room. His head was bent down and yet his posture was impeccable as always. The shorts strands of his hair tampered back along the base of his head, stopping just above the nape of his neck—pointed ears displayed quite clearly. The rest of him was hidden away behind an ever-pristine white coat, a red t-shirt, and jeans. He looked so clean cut, Kagome was almost grateful he wasn't wearing a stereotypical PI outfit of trench coat and suit.

"You are in less distress." His tone never wavered and it never reached anything other than a disinterested monotone.

"Thanks for the advice," she muttered.

"Hn." He shut the book he'd been occupying and returned it to the shelf in front of him. "You'll find no shortage of youki, jaki, and miasma in this city. For as long as you stay here, a natural ability to ignore it is apparently imperative for your daily functions."

Kagome bit her lip and nodded, despite the sharp pang of pride stinging and making her want to snap and tell him she knew exactly how to block out things that weren't her reiki—she knew he was just trying to help. In fact helping was all the man, male demon she corrected herself, had done.

He turned around so that the bright glitter of his gilded eyes, and the stark contrast of crescent moon and magenta stripes on full display. This was Private Investigator Sesshomaru. Current landlord of her loft (which was actually a rooftop janitor's closet in his study) and interestingly enough her savior.

He stared listlessly at his nails. "I've recorded and analyzed the scents at the site where you were found. Based on the olfactory trails that were left behind, you were kidnapped and dragged here by a centipede demon."

"Centipede demon?" Kagome echoed with an owlish blink.

He flicked his gaze up with an unamused expression and didn't repeat himself.

There was a pause as Kagome messed absentmindedly with her bangs. Three days ago she woke up in one of the most dangerous places a girl like her, a miko to be exact, could be. Shikon City. A city with a 100% population of demons or those of direct demon descent. Not knowing where she was or how she was there, she suddenly woke—her body ablaze and overreacting to the completely untamed demonic energy that saturated the metropolis. And in her loss of control that was when he-who-annoyed-her found her, knocked her out, and took her to his home. Because there was one teeny tiny problem about Shikon city, unless you were an official or extremely and brazenly overpowered, the barrier surrounding the town neither let things in or let them out. So obviously the PI had questions. Questions she couldn't answer.

What's your name?

"Kagome Higurashi."

Occupation?

"I'm a highschool student—although I just applied for my first year at Tokyo university."

You realize demons cannot leave this area, correct?

"W...what do you mean demons? We're in Meguro...aren't we?"

You're human.

"Um. Aren't you?"

"Thanks to your scent being eradicated by your reiki outburst a few days ago, I can neither confirm nor deny that you are actually from outside the barrier," Sesshomaru clenched his hand. "However your little stunt did not vanquish the smells on the surrounding ground and further behind you. Congratulations Ms. Higurashi, you may be able to process out of here in less than a month if what you claim is true."

Ah yes. That was one other thing, and it was the main reason for why she'd so kindly dubbed him the annoyance of her existence. "I told you. I had a wallet on me, and it wasn't there when you found me. Someone must've pinched my wallet, but if you find that, my ID in it would prove that I really am not a demon or from this city!"

"And yet conveniently, said-wallet disappeared before I arrived on the scene of your kidnapping."

"Aren't you a detective? Isn't it your job to find missing things?" She bit out with exasperation.

"You need money to hire me, Ms. Higurashi." He gave her a cruel and fanged smile. "And that was stolen. Apparently. Be grateful I'm scenting without charge as to why you are missing from wherever you came."

Her lip curled up in anger and she stormed away. Sesshomaru made no move to stop her and she was glad. Maybe she'd find her own way out! She didn't need that stupid, smug, stuck-up jerk's help. After all she was a miko, if she could make a barrier then surely she could escape one.

Outside in the open-city was as unnerving as it had been the first day. Different auras of all demonic pedigrees pressed upon her as if they knew she were a human. As if they knew they could disperse the holy energies inside of her. She shivered and didn't like the idea. Trudging along she wrapped her arms around herself and tried to avoid bumping into people along the walkways. The demons here were for the most part humanoid. Sesshomaru told her no one took on their true forms unless it were for festivals or protection. And extreme emotional overload. Her warned her that for every chance that she could blow a circuit, so could a demon. And neither outcome would be pretty.

Something pulsed.

The air, herself, the aura inside her. Sight shooting up, she swung her gaze everywhere, trying to spot what drew in her power. And that's when she saw her. An eerily tall, four armed woman with wiry wavering locks. She was walking away from her, and right then and there Kagome felt a shiver of familiarity. A centipede demon. What were the chances? Honestly in a demon city, what were the chances.

Tucking herself to the crowd and trying to appear small, Kagome followed the woman. There was no proof that the demoness had stolen the wallet—but if it was the same centipede that Sesshomaru had sniffed out, then it was really truly super super possible that the wallet had been stolen by her kidnapper. The only question was, why go through the impossible hassle of dragging Kagome from the human city to a demon one. It shouldn't have even been plausible and yet somehow it happened. But all that was taken was a little tiny wallet that was hardly more than an over-glorified coin purse.

Kagome tailed the centipede demon to a back alley that led into a dumpster area—little more than a small turnabout for garbage trucks to circle around once they've picked up their loads behind the buildings. Crouching against the wall and doing her best to hide, she waited to see what the centipede would do. To her horror, the woman turned towards her direction and slid a long and slimy tongue from parted lips. Between clawed hands she reached into the pockets of her outfit and held Kagome's missing item in the air.

"Oh little human so predictable. Come out, come out, I'm hungry," she sang out.

Hand covering her mouth, Kagome paled. Oh no.

"You need this don't you?" The demoness didn't move, just swung the pink wallet back and forth like a pendulum without a string. "All I had to do was hold onto this and my little meal came back to me without a fight and more importantly without that stupid guard dog. How tantalizing. I like obedience in a girl."

Something struck a nerve.

Kagome stood up and stomped her way over, holy pink aura unhinged with her anger. "I'm hardly obedient! Least of all to someone like you!"

"Oh but you came to me, didn't you?" The centipede dropped the wallet and lunged—maw outstretched and ready to snatch up her snack.

No time to lose, Kagome ducked to the side, wrapping herself around the woman's leg and sending out a bolt of her aura. Purification rose into the air like the crisp clean stench of bleach. The demoness fell back and screamed as her leg faded away to wisps of incense—her body spasmed in pain as the residual effects of the purifying blast took its toll. Smiling Kagome picked herself up and sauntered over to her wallet. Well that was that.

One moment she was on her own two feet and the next she was elevated upside down, body restrained by tight exoskeletal coils. Kagome screamed and kicked, sending wave after wave of her miko abilities. And yet the hold on her only constricted.

The centipede woman extended her jaw and giggled. "See if you can get through my skin now, little human. Your struggling makes me even more hungry!"

This is it. This is where I die.

A flash of white, an agonizing scream, and then Kagome slammed into the hard cold cement. Her head spun and her limbs protested in agony. But when she looked up, Sesshomaru stood in front of her—protectively, angrily—claws barred and nose in the air. The centipede woman was no longer in her true form. The centipede woman was no longer. She lay in pieces, in shambles, in tatters on the floor melted by acid and torn apart.

Not a single spot of blood stained the PI's still immaculate jacket.

Sesshomaru turned around with a smug grin that quickly faded while she sat up. His nose flared and his gaze snapped to the abandoned and pink wallet by his foot. He grabbed it and flipped it open, staring at the contents as if they personally offended him.

The glare he shot her could've burnt a hole through her forehead if she had been paying attention. It took her a moment, but she realized why his nose was acting up. That wallet, that precious little thing that she'd been desperate to find and that he hadn't cared to find, held one thing that spoke on more volumes to he-who-annoyed-her than the words printed on the plastic ID in the pockets. That wallet had been stolen before she woke up her first day in Shikon City, and subsequently before she had burned her own scent in the subconscious attempt to self-purify.

That meant her pure and unblemished scent, the details of her original home and original whereabouts, all sat there waiting for him to take a sniff and realize.

"Will you help me now?" She staggered to her feet and cradled her side.

His gaze slid to where her hand rested, and lifted a delicate brow at the sight of blood seeping through her shirt. One of the slabs of the centipede's skin must've sliced the side.

"Only a human," he huffed and pocketed the wallet. He easily slid his arms beneath her legs and scooped her up against him. "Once we patch you up, we'll take you to the police for an official statement. This one will be able to start conducting the investigation from there."

Kagome smiled weakly and poked his chest. "Hey. Did you save me for free too?"

He rolled his eyes and didn't answer, carrying her out of the alleyway.

#skw2020d1 #sesskag #sesskagweek2020 #sesshomaru #sesshomaru x kagome #kagome higurashi #bna ish #au: brand new animal #i hope you like this steaming pile of garbage i served for day one i had waaay too much fun with it #skw2020

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ckret2 · 4 years

Note

how tf do u write sir pen and alastor

Step one: rewatch this and this a million times specifically to focus on how they talk—the way they emphasize words, the cadence and flow of their sentences, pace, sound effects, mood, pitch, tone, etc.

Step two: reread their lines here or here (each one handles the transcript a little bit different—the first one is more comprehensive, the second one more objective, and they disagree on a few words) so that you can more fully absorb things like their vocabulary, length and complexity of sentences, etc.

Step three: keep those pages open constantly so that every couple paragraphs you can refer back to those pages to refresh their voices in your head when you get nervous about drifting too far off the accurate voice of a character who's got less than three total minutes of footage, which will be often.

Now you have their voices in your head.

Step four: Go write their voices!! Here are their voices:

Sir Pentious is pretentious. Alastor sounds like a radio host.

I know, I know, that sounds super obvious.

Sir Pentious will occasionally use vocab & sentence structure that makes him sound old-fashioned and dramatic on par with a parody of a Shakespeare villain. He uses phrases like "[they] dare not hinder [me]" or "the likes of I" or pronouncing "striped" as "stripéd." His vocab isn't wildly complicated—you shouldn't be sending readers running to the dictionary—but nevertheless he sounds intelligent.

Pretend that in his heart he's constantly on the verge of giving a villainous monologue about how his evil plan will let him effortlessly conquer the world, and anything else he's doing—whether it's trying to impress a crush or ordering lunch at a fast food restaurant—is either a practice run for that villainous monologue or a distraction from being able to give it. His casual conversations will have that hint of grandiosity. He's going to be mildly irritated at anything that undercuts his grandiosity—it doesn't have enough style, doesn't have enough class. He'll jump on opportunities to gloat, to talk about his goals & plans, to talk down his enemies—to try to make himself sound good, basically.

And—this is super important—remember that he thinks he's evil and is proud of it. He's not one of those villains who believes he has a just or justifiable cause. He's also not one of those villains who is villainous out of spite/anger/vengeance. He says that he is evil and he is gleeful about it. Don't feel the need to give him sympathetic/understandable/justifiable motives for his actions, because he doesn't think he has any and he doesn't care. He's power-hungry and he's bad and he's having fun. He embraces it. Embrace it when you write him.

Alastor is 100% performative at all times. Imagine that at every moment he's speaking he sees himself as a radio talk show host sitting behind his desk with a packed studio audience and the knowledge that thousands more people are listening live. He's animated and exuberant because he's trying his damnedest at all times to be an entertaining host for that imaginary audience. That's his job: put on a good show for the audience.

So every comment is snappy and interesting, he always sounds upbeat and energetic. When he talks about himself and his own emotions, it never sounds confessional, intimate, or sincere; even if he's talking about something that's genuinely been a heavy psychological weight on him, he doesn't present it like that. He presents it like a guest on a talk show telling the host a funny anecdote about his life, or a comedian telling a story to the audience: even if the anecdote is about something miserable, it's presented as an interesting/entertaining story for the consumption of the audience.

(See: the jokey way he says, "Hahaha, why does anyone do anything? Sheer! Absolute! BOREDOM!" The woe-is-me faux drama when he says "My work became mundane, lacking focus, aimless!" Those straight up sound like two depression symptoms. His voice does not sound depressed.)

So he speaks in anecdotes, one-liners, punchy comments. There's going to be very little "uh-huh" or "mm-hmm" or grunts or sighs or other such wordless sounds—everything he says is going to sound crisp and carefully enunciated for the audience at home trying to listen in over the radio.

(And you can play with that as appropriate: I have his performativeness go down when he's having an actual intimate sincere moment, and I have it crank up wildly when he's uncomfortable, secretive, feeling vulnerable, etc., and he wants to hide that.)

Step five: remember their weird speech quirks!

Hiss! Sir Pentious has got his hiss. Now, listen to me very carefully: if choossse to write Sssir Pentiousss'sss ssspeech ssso that every sssingle sssibilant isss emphasssized jussst like ssso, I ssshall sssneak into your houssse in the middle of the night with a Sssharpie and ssscribble an angry faccce on your forehead.

This is the best essay I have ever read on writing accents. And one of the most important points in it is: don't misspell every word to phonetically match how the character sounds, because it's incomprehensible, silly, and gives readers headaches. That applies to Sir Pentious's hiss.

Now, I feel like you can give him SOME hissing. If there's a word or phrase HE's trying to emphasize—if he's talking Extra Fancy, or if he's spitting an insult at someone, or if he's just being more pretentious than usual. Example: if a hero sneaks into a villain's lair and the villain captures them, the villain might sarcastically say "so nice of you to join us!" When I hear Sir Pentious giving that line I hear his voice jump up on the first word, "so nice of you to join us!" So I could write that as "ssso nice of you to join us!" for that extra emphasis. I wouldn't write it as "ssso niccce of you to join usss!"

Also: you can just not write his hiss at all. That's valid, we'll still hear it in our heads. I don't write his hiss when I'm writing inside of his perspective because he doesn't hear himself doing it.

If you DO write his hiss though, remember that it's not just on the S's. Sometimes he over-emphasizes his H's as well or inserts them where they don't belong. ("hhell will be mine, h'and everyone will know the name of Sir—") That's harder to naturally write into dialogue than the S's, but if you're looking out for opportunities you might naturally stumble across one or two. At least remember to carry the hissed H's in your head.

Radio sounds! Alastor's dialogue is loaded down with radio sound effects—studio audience applause (and different kinds of applause for "applauding a stellar performance" versus "welcoming a guest onto the show"), studio audience laughter, little trumpet sounds, snatches of music, xylophone scales, telegram beeps, drum rolls, the screams of the damned—you know, normal things you might hear on the radio. And less clear things too: a thousand different static sounds, muffled voices like you might hear when passing through stations and getting near but not actually on the right station, garbled humming, little second-long clips of songs he heard earlier.

You don't want to CONSTANTLY talk about the sound effects he's making; but like, also, constantly talk about the sound effects he's making. Strike a balance. Good luck.

Get familiar with sound effects—listen to the radio and pay attention to the sound effects used in bumper messages, listen to the sounds in old game shows, listen to radio dramas, find guides by people who work on sound effects for radio and see what they do, browse sound effect sites to see what kind of categories are listed and that people look for. Alastor shouldn't sound like a radio drama, but you can steal sounds from that. If you can hear a sound but aren't sure what to call it, try looking up lists of similar sound effects for sale and just look at what terms they use in the file names to describe the sounds. (Obviously you don't want to buy a $50 folder containing 500 radio sound effects, but oftentimes you can still see the names of the files.)

And—again, from that essay I linked earlier—the characters don't complain about each other's voices in canon. If someone's going to comment on Alastor's radio noises, there has to be a good reason for it, because it's a divergence from the norm. (Like, I have Sir Pentious commenting on and asking questions about Alastor's radio sounds to show he's curious about/interested in Alastor and how his abilities work on a deeper level than just "oh yeah of course the radio demon makes radio sounds" and to show that he's absolutely not too intimidated by him to risk annoying him—and that's intended as a deliberate exception from the norm, to the extent that Alastor comments on it once.)

Musical numbers! Occasionally Alastor will burst into song. Unless you're desperate to try your hand as a lyricist, I recommend against actually writing full songs for him, for this reason: when we see Alastor's full song in the pilot, it sounds like he's singing, because he is and we can hear it. When we see a full song in a book or a fic, it sounds like somebody's reciting poetry, because we don't know the tune and we can't hear the song in our heads. And "giving a poetry recital" is a very different vibe from "singing a song."

What I do to get around this is, when I think Alastor oughta be singing, I just take a song that actually exists and have him sing that one, and then I can fling the link at readers. Go get familiar with pre-1933 popular songs. I recommend vaudeville and musical theater as easy sources to draw from because it more often tends to be snappy, energetic, and oftentimes humorous, which fits Alastor's vibe. I also don't quote the entire song, just a couple of relevant lines—so that within the fic itself it comes across like dialogue rather than like a poetry recital. If you HAVE to include the whole song, mix it in with actions, description, narration, etc, so that it can still be read as dialogue rather than like a solid block of poetry. He's not just standing in one spot unmoving while he sings, is he? No of course not, he's Alastor. Have him dance and do dumb stuff.

Step six: remember their weird accessories, mention them from time to time.

One of the streams that I don't feel like digging up says that Sir Pentious's hat's facial expressions mirror whatever Sir Pent is currently feeling, even if Sir Pent's own expression is less honest to his true feelings. Personally, I go with that—his hat is always showing his genuine emotions—unless it's off his head, in which case it can have its own separate emotions for a moment (such as: reacting to the fact that it's fallen off its owners head). It's completely psychically connected to him and so it's never going to have a separate/independent reaction to what's goin on, just mirror Sir Pent's. There are other ways to headcanon his hat and so other ways to write his hat but that's the way I do it.

Alastor's microphone cane occasionally talk. In the show we see it do that when Alastor specifically prompts it. We don't know if the cane is its own person or if it's more like a magic ventriloquist doll Alastor talks through in order to banter with himself. I treat it as like, 1/2 a person: it's a direct extension of Alastor, and it's got some low-level intelligence, but like intelligence on the level of a chat bot programmed to try to have conversations with people but that doesn't really think for itself. Since it's an extension of Alastor it doesn't really have any thoughts/knowledge that he doesn't, but it's got a slightly snippier/crankier personality, and it might on very rare occasions say things that Alastor like, knows on a subconscious/instinctive level but is consciously denying. Its primary function is to give Alastor the reply he's looking for when he says something he wants a reply to, or to set him up for a snappy one-liner he wants to make but is unable to make unless someone else says JUST the right thing first. Again, there are other ways to headcanon/write his cane, but that's the way I do it.

Also Alastor has living shadows, one of which might be his own shadow, but like, I always forget about them so I don't do anything with them. It's fine it's cool it only shows up during musical numbers anyway.

Step seven: remember their body language.

Sir Pentious's overall body language is, unsurprisingly, pretty serpentine—he's got some wiggles, he's got some dramatic bends that show off his flexibility—and also rather elegant, or at least making a show of looking elegant. At least when he's busy posing in between doing actual work. And he likes playing with his bow tie.

Alastor's gestures are big and theatrical and his arms are always going everywhere.

However, that's not the part of their body language I want to talk about! That's the normal stuff! I'm here for the weird stuff!

Hood! Sir Pentious's hood is basically always flaring out and flattening down and flaring out and flattening down. (And I do headcanon it as a hood—just fraying along the bottom—not as hair. Every time I see fanart that treats it as hair and they braid it or put it up in a bun or whatever I have a moment where I picture his hood shredded up the length into strips and go "OH GOD, OH GOD.") Like, do not constantly describe every single time his hood flares, because it's every five seconds. But don't leave it out by any means. Pick important moments. Make sure it actually adds to the scene.

Eyes! In canon there's a few shots where we can see that Sir Pent's many many eyes move and blink, and they ten to look toward whatever Sir Pent is focused on. It seems likely that they work. If you want to say they work you totally can. I say they work. If you're gonna say they work, keep in mind what kind of field of view that gives him, and keep in mind what you can do with that knowledge. Like, if he's sitting at a dinner table with someone to discuss some kind of skeevy underground business deal and the other person slowly pulls out a gun under the table and points it at him, he's going to see that gun with his knee-height eyes and be able to kick that dude's whole chair over with his tail.

Smile! Alastor's single most defining character trait is the fact that he's always smiling. The terrified sinners that named him the Radio Demon should've named him Smiley McSmiles. Therefore, there is no need to tell readers that he's smiling. They'll be like, "of course he's smiling. He's Alastor. We're not stupid." However, it's a good idea to mention from time to time that he's smiling, because like, Alastor's single most defining character trait is the fact that he's always smiling. And when it's that constant, it helps to occasionally bring it up to like, maintain that continuity, maintain that sense of the fact that his smile is always there. So you've gotta strike that balance between "don't just keep telling the readers that Alastor is still smiling because you don't need to tell them that" and "mention his smile from time to time." The way I do that is like, mentioning his smile in conjunction with other things, usually as an indication of his mood. Whereas with other characters you'd show changes in their expression by going "he smiled," "he frowned," "he grimaced in disgust," with Alastor you'd say like "his perpetual smile stretched wider into a more genuine one" or "he pressed his lips together as his smile thinned" or "he fought to keep smiling through the disgust"—that way, you're not telling readers that Alastor is smiling, it's something you're mentioning in the process of telling readers something different and more important about his mood.

Step seven: remember this ain't TV. Keep in mind the difference between how they sound when they’re talking out loud on screen and how they’ll sound when they’re just text in a fic.

To get their voice across, you might have to exaggerate some things in written dialogue that you wouldn’t in spoken dialogue. For instance, Sir Pentious doesn’t always have vocab that makes him sound like a pretentious, sophisticated supervillain. Sometimes he says “No other demon can compare to the likes of I!” but then sometimes he says “You wanna go, missy?” When he says that the latter line in the show, he still sounds pretentious, because his VA is still using his pretentious-sounding voice. In writing, there is no voice. Most readers KNOW what his voice sounds like, and if you’re writing close enough to his voice they’ll be able to hear it; but it’s going to be harder for them to hear it if you have him saying words that go against what his voice sounds like and they aren’t actually simultaneously hearing his voice IRL saying those words.

So, while “You wanna go, missy?” works on screen when we can hear the contrast between his voice and the dialogue, if that scene was written instead, it’d be easier to get his voice across with “Do you want to go, missy?” because it still has the unexpected/humorous casualness of “missy” in there but making the rest of the sentence very formal preserves Sir Pent’s pretentious speaking style.

Step eight: keep in mind that the question I'm answering is "how do you write sir pent and alastor," not "how should sir pent and alastor be written," so feel free to toss out anything that doesn't work for you.

#hazbin hotel #sir pentious #alastor #about my writing #anonymous #ask

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hunnywrites · 5 years

Photo

Arcade Dreams: Chapter One

Summary: There’s a new girl working at the Palace Arcade and Hawkins’ Family Video. Billy can’t stand her, and the feeling is mutual. No matter what everyone else seems to think.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove/OFC

A/N: When being introduced to the Midnight overlaps with the third season of Stranger Things being released, you write a Billy Hargrove fic. He’s trying his best to become a soft boy, but instead you all get this mess of a slow burn fic.

Christmas break was surprisingly more lively in Hawkins than Teddi had anticipated. The Hawkins Family Video store and the Palace Arcade were always pretty popular during weekends, sure, but in the few days since school had let out she had found herself bouncing back and forth between the two shops because she and Keith were seriously understaffed. She didn’t mind it. Everyone in town was surprisingly nice, and a lot of the kids that stopped into the arcade were pretty entertaining. There was one group she had taken a liking to. Max Mayfield and her gang always managed to make a shift more exciting, and she loved helping them give Keith grief.

She had popped into the arcade about twenty minutes ago and found them spread out among the games. Max seemed to be missing, but there was a new girl that had tagged along the last few nights. Apparently Chief Hopper had a daughter she hadn’t known about. Not that that surprised her. As of that week she had only been in Hawkins for two months. Her family had moved there from upstate New York after her dad had been laid off. Now they lived in a really crappy place that seemed like it was in the middle of nowhere even for Indiana. It was why she had taken the video store/arcade job to begin with. There was no way her parents would be able to pay for college now. So now she was desperate for as many shifts as she could get from Keith on top of looking for a second job.

Since the arcade seemed to be relatively peaceful for a Friday night, she was focused on the video store now. Keith was forcing her to play that god awful animated Rudolph movie on repeat to get customers into the Christmas spirit. If she had to listen to that elf talk about how he wanted to be a dentist one more time, she might actually lose it. She was bouncing back and forth between the register, restocking and organizing shelves and rewinding tapes people had returned. She was so busy that she had managed to drown out those awful claymation characters and the sound of a roaring engine outside. She threw a “Welcome to Hawkins’ Video!” over her shoulder when she heard the bell on the door jingle as it opened.

She was tidying up the holiday display when someone’s shadow loomed over her. “You work here?” a gruff voice asked. Teddi looked up, eyebrows together in confusion as she tried to imagine what this guy could possibly be so huffy about.

“Sure do,” she said as she stood. She was immediately met with the smell of cologne, cigarette smoke and spearmint. “What can I help you with?”

Teddi vaguely recognized him after a few moments. They went to the same school. She didn’t entirely remember his name, but she knew he was kind of a dick. Very, very cute, but kind of a dick. “I’m stuck watching my lame ass step-sister while she’s grounded. Her mom told me to rent some videos to keep her occupied over the weekend.” he said rolling his eyes.

“Oh! Well, that’s actually pretty sweet of you. I mean I’m an only child so my mom always just threw me in front of a TV while I was growing up…” she trailed off. It was obvious he didn’t care. Teddi cleared her throat. “Sorry. Um, so what’s she into?”

He raised an eyebrow, looking at Teddi like she had grown a second head. “How the fuck should I know?”

“Isn’t she your sister?”

“Step sister.” he corrected shortly.

“Right…” Teddi pursed her lips while she thought of a suggestion. Cute but dickly blonde boy shifted impatiently. “Chick flick?” she asked. He made a face.

“Jesus, no. She’s not into all that girly shit.” he paused for a moment. “I don’t know, she was Michael Myers for Halloween. You got anything like that?”

Teddi perked up. “Oh, totally! Here, follow me,” she waved at him and took off towards the horror section. She glanced over her shoulder quickly at him. “...You go to Hawkin’s High, right? You’re on the basketball team? I’m Teddi. I just moved here so you’ve probably haven’t seen me or anything…” she was rambling again. She always did that when things were quiet. She hated quiet.

“You’re the weird girl that argued with the science teacher for like half an hour over crystals.” he said bluntly. Teddi let out a nervous laugh. She had to admit, it was a little embarrassing to remembered by cute but dickly for arguing that crystals did in fact have healing abilities, and no it did not have anything to do with the movie The Dark Crystal.

“Yep...yep. That was me…” she was fairly certain she heard him let out a faint chuckle. “So uh, keeping in tone with the whole holiday horror she might like this one,” she plucked a copy of Black Christmas off the shelf and handed it to him. He gave it a quick look over and gave an approving nod. “And these are just some really good ones. You can’t pass them up.” she handed him Sleepaway Camp, Alien and Carrie. She hoped it would be broad enough range to keep his sister occupied and happy.

He scanned each VHS quickly. “Right...thanks. Hopefully this’ll keep the little shit happy.” he muttered.

“It’s no problem. If she likes them there’s plenty more where those came from.” she said leading him back to the front counter. While she was checking each of the movies out she was completely oblivious to the fact that cute but dickly was now aware that his focus was no longer on renting movies and that Teddi was a girl. A cute, but weird, girl that he had yet to put the moves on.

“...I’m Billy, by the way. I forgot to introduce myself earlier.” he grinned, leaning against the counter and turning on a sudden charm he definitely hadn’t had when he first walked in. Teddi had bleached blonde hair that was cut into a bob that just barely reached her shoulders. Her lashes were so long and thick that he couldn’t tell whether they were real or fake. Freckles speckled her nose and she had a metal hoop in her right nostril. She was also wearing glittery lip gloss that managed to sparkle even under the fluorescent lighting of the video store. He barely got to get a good look of her “Hawkins’ Family Video” shirt that was about two sizes too small and black cut off shorts before he was caught.

“Oh, it’s fine we were bus-...what are you doing?” she raised an eyebrow at him.

Billy stood up straight, his grin fading. “...What do you mean?”

“You were just looking at me like I’m like a cheeseburger or something,” she snorted. Billy looked at her like she had grown another head yet again. “Does that actually work?” she asked, her nose scrunching just a little.

Billy clenched his jaw, resting both of his hands on the counter. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he spat. It only made him more annoyed when Teddi let out a giggle. If it was one thing he hated, it was being laughed at.

“Nothing. Forget it,” she slid the tapes towards him. “Ten bucks. They’re due back Monday.” she said with an amused smile. Billy only muttered, reaching into his back pocket and digging his wallet out. He tossed a ten down on the counter and snatched up the tapes. “Enjoy the movies!” she said sweetly.

Billy rolled his eyes and nearly stomped back out to his car. He hated Hawkins. He hated how cold it was. He hated how festive everyone got around Christmas. He hated that he was stuck at home with Max all weekend, and he hated that Teddi had embarrassed him. Fuck Hawkins, he thought as he slid into his Camaro.

“Took you long enough,” Max muttered, crossing her arms. Billy ignored her and tossed the tapes into her lap before throwing the car into reverse. Max silently studied each of the movies. “These look pretty good...you picked these out?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

Billy fished his cigarettes from his jacket pocket and placed one between his lips. “The girl that worked there picked them out,” he mumbled before lighting it. “I told her you liked Halloween.” for some reason that excited Max.

“Teddi?” she asked, turning to face her step-brother.

Billy cast a sideways glance at her. “Yeah...you know her?”

“She works at the arcade too. She’s really cool.” Billy scoffed. What did Max know about cool? He supposed to a geek like Max and her friends that maybe Teddi seemed cool. He sure didn’t see it.

“She’s weird.” he argued curtly.

Max gave him a knowing look and smiled. “You asked her out didn’t you? She said no didn’t she?” she asked excitedly. Billy gripped the steering wheel tightly.

He bit back his initial response. “She’s not my type.” he said simply.

It was Max’s turn to scoff. “You don’t have a type. Girl is your type. She’s too smart for you anyways-”

“Max, do you ever shut the fuck up? It’s bad enough I have to spend the weekend with you. Do you really think I give a shit about what you have to say about some freak that works at the video store?” Max only rolled her eyes. Ever since the night Billy had come to find her at the Byers’ house things with Billy had been slightly better, but not great. Her step-brother was stubborn. And while she was sure she had put the fear of God in him that night, Max was sure there was nothing that would be able to match his attitude.

Billy leaned forward and flipped the radio on to signal he was done with the conversation. He drummed his fingers against the wheel in sync with the beat and pretended Max was no longer there. But still, the fact that he had actually tried to find movies she’d like instead of grabbing whatever was closest let her know he didn’t completely hate her. If anything he was crabby because his ego was bruised from whatever happened between him and Teddi.

Max was positive Billy had tried to ask her out. Lucas and the guys all had a crush on her. She was into all the same stuff they were, and she was nicer than Steve. Max had found herself wishing a few times that Teddi could be her step-sister rather than having to stick around Billy. Or at the very least she wished that Billy wasn’t such a jerk and that Teddi would want to date him. Maybe make him chill out some.

Max’s mom and Neil weren’t home when they pulled into the driveway. Usually on the weekends they went out and she and Billy wouldn’t see them much if they were home. Which wasn’t often. Both Billy and Max liked to avoid being home as often as possible. Max followed Billy inside and kicked off her snow-covered boots, hanging up her coat and rushing over to the TV. Billy tossed his leather jacket onto the back of the couch and headed for the kitchen. Max heard the pop of a beer can being opened.

She decided to watch Black Christmas first. She popped the tape in, settling own on the floor to watch. She barely even noticed Billy standing awkwardly in the doorway. “...You want popcorn or something?” he finally asked. Max tried to mask her surprise, instead smiling and nodding. He disappeared into the kitchen once more, making sure to slam cabinet doors and the microwave as if he were being forced to cook up popcorn.

Billy returned a few moments later, plopping down on the couch and setting the bowl on the table in front of him. Max moved from her place on the floor to the couch as he kicked off his boots and leaned back into the couch. He rolled his eyes as she gave him a happy smile, grabbing the popcorn bowl and settling into the couch herself. While he still wished he was out with some girl he could pick up at work, Billy supposed this wasn’t the worst way to spend the weekend.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove x oc

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ouroboros-panacea · 5 years

Text

Stone [石头]-Enigma-[3/?]

Summary: [JJBA x HNK] "Phosphophyllite, my name is Phosphophyllite." Such is your useless life, no matter how many changes you make, how strong you become. Your life will still simply be a tragedy, and you, forever useless. The tale of a gem who suffered because of change, and an ancient being who wanted to change. An odd friendship it'd be. Rebirth seems more like a curse than anything. It would be nice if this didn't end with tragedy. {Disclaimer- I don't own hnk or jjba}

------

Smashing onto hidden pebbles and rocks, Phosphophyllite broke apart into both large and small parts, arms and legs fragmenting into twos and threes. Her crystalline body was fractured, shards of herself scattering across the grassy forest floor. Facing down on the ground, her face split apart, her eyeballs clinking against the remains of her face. Yet part of her segmented left arm stayed in Kars' strong grip, his fingers still curled tightly around her wrist.

"Hm?"

Kars, hearing the sound of and feeling a tugging sensation through the singular arm he held, turned around to look at her. His violet eyes widening at the unusual-abnormal-sight of a shattered gem-like body. Hands instinctively twitched at the surprise, the strength of the young pillar man making visible indents in her wrist-Little pieces dropping down and littering the earth with her "flesh". He had expected her to have fallen earlier, due to how much effort it took her to keep up with him. Yet he didn't expect to see the masses of mint green gems spread around-each of them resembling a part of human limb like a morbid jigsaw puzzle.

Was she dead? Kars thought so for a moment, until something else came to disprove that thought.

In a desperate attempt to glue back her body, golden alloy leaked out of her body once more. Almost like blood, pouring out in copious amounts, it flowed down from invisible spaces to form a shapeless puddle. Then thin tendrils rose from it. From there, it started to blindly claw the ground for the other body parts.

Kars silently stared, face now holding an expression of interest. The rest of the environment around him ignored in favor of recording even more information about this..."newcomer". It was now a deeply ingrained fact in his mind that Phosphophyllite was neither part of humanity or his race. This only cemented his desire to know everything possible about her.

The more he got to know about her, the more he found himself becoming even more curious about her.

Which was expected, seeing as she was like a breath of fresh air-a ray of false sunlight suddenly shining down onto his dull, mundane existence. A challenge he would most definitely solve, no matter how long it took him. It gave him that welcomed feeling of having to go through an actual struggle to get to the 'prize'.

Kars then held up the piece of her arm in his large hand to study. It was split off from the rest of Phosphophyllite with a clean break. Her hand had the normal five fingers, nails a basic mint green (Strange that her nails weren't the "normal" transparent pink peach)-Overall plain and exactly like the hands of his kind and the humans. Nothing notable other than the small detail concerning the color of her nails.

Turning it upside down to look at the insides of her limb, Kars saw exactly what he expected-after the initial shock of seeing her scattered body parts-a crystalline interior, glinting in the moonlight and faintly reflecting a green tinted kaleidoscopic version of his deep violet eyes.

'It's a beautiful colour.' Kars thought with the sort of admiration one has for natural beauty. 'Like clear sea water.'

But a small thought nagged at the back of his mind as he turned his head to look back at the ongoing search for green gemstones.

'Why is she not dead? But assuming death for her was breaking apart, I believe she would have died much longer ago. With how brittle her body is and how clumsy she is from what I've seen, that's a given fact. Could it be that she doesn't die from that?'

That would mean the closest to death she would get was if she was entirely turned to dust without any chance of being pieced back together.

If Phosphophyllite was entirely made up of mineral on the inside and did not "die" if broken, then did that mean that they were technically immortal? Seeing as there was no organic material inside her to rot up until the day she died-much like the short lived humans he saw that usually passed by within a blink of an eye.

If there was no decomposition, no aging, then-?

Was she immortal then? Unable to die no matter what, unless her body was unable to be put back together?

How...interesting, yet, unnerving. To know that there were people out there whose's ability to stay as a part of the living were far greater than his kind, who suffered from such a simple thing.

The sun.

He'd have to study this (her) more.

The puzzle that Phosphophyllite gave him was, suffice to say, complex. But definitely intriguing.

Perhaps, through her, he could find a way to combat the weakness to the sun that his species possessed. Then he'd finally, finally be able to feel that warmth on his skin, the pure light that was so, so very different and new and absolutely wonderful.

His head spun with the possibilities, eager to build upon those ideas and fantasies like a dog with a bone. (His body ever so slightly jerked, as if remembering the severe harm sunlight could do to him-admonishing him for even thinking of going under the sun.)

He stopped that train of thought as it threatened to spiral further down. It would do him no good if he went ahead of himself because of his emotions without a plan (Like his Father said he always did).

'Breathe, in and out. Calm yourself. Remember what Mother and Father always said. Don't just focus on possibilities, if you want to make it happen, you must plan to do so first.'

A thin string of metal coiled around his wrist-interrupting him-and on reflex (and out of surprise) he yanked his hand away. The metal snapped from the burst of energy, pathetically flopping around on the floor like a blinded man, searching for a larger pool of alloy to be a part of. Kars' impassive face was broken in that instant, violet eyes narrowing, teeth sharply clicking together as his mouth closed with a "clack".

Why was this... anomaly giving him such trouble? He was supposed to be in control of himself.

Kars wasn't sure about the answer to that question-It wasn't like one of those questions where he'd simply have to look up to know. It was... different. (He didn't like that).

He glared even more at the alloy, tiny waves of annoyance washing over him. Kars wanted to do something to it to make it pay for interrupting him. But he squashed down those feelings-How could he let such small things annoy him so?

Kars looked back the slowly working puzzle, he wondered if it would be better to carry all of her pieces back home, or would it benefit him more if he'd help her. On one hand, he'd get back quicker, yet if he did help her, there was a chance of her trusting him more, and making it easier for him to "observe" her with less repercussions.

After all, people let their guards down more if they were around someone they trusted.

Kars started to move towards the body, all the while his eyes scanned the forest floor for the shining gem pieces, picking them up as he went closer and closer. Soon his arms were full of the roughly cut jewels when he finally approached Phosphophyllite's still body. He slowly knelt onto the plants, looking down carefully as to not crush the fragile things-his arms tight around the mass of mint green mineral. When Kars settled down, he gently placed down his load-Kars didn't need to waste even more time by breaking her in even smaller pieces, he wasn't sure how long this night would last. The last thing he wanted was to be stuck under the sunlight.

Kars took a piece from the pile and offered it to metal tendrils, who quickly snatched it away from him and went back to work. When they ran out of pieces to put, they turned to Kars for more. Soon they ended up just taking parts from the pile itself.

This cycle went on for a bit until larger parts of Phosphophyllite were fixed and Kars himself could start doing something instead of kneeling until his legs went numb.

"Thanks for fixing me back together." Phosphophyllite said, droopy eyes staring up at Kars. His own narrow eyes looked back at her in a silent of gesture of acknowledgment.

Well.

'Obviously he wouldn't respond.' A familiar voice echoed in her head again. 'He's kind of a stoic and serious type, don't you think?' It gained a rather teasing tone as it said this, making Phos unconsciously frown.

"I guess..." Phos mumbled as she watched him repair her body.

Kars heard that sentence, but chose not to comment.

It was a peaceful, yet awkward silence that enveloped the atmosphere around the two. That was promptly broken by Kars' curt words of "I'm finished." and his body rising up from it's previous kneeling position.

"A-ah, really? Um, thanks again for helping me."

It took a brief period of hesitation, but Kars answered back with a polite "You're welcome."

Phos smiled brightly at him in answer.

Inwardly, Kars imagined her to be like a flower and somehow...

His lips lifted into a small smile as well.

"You're smiling!" Phosphophyllite cried out in childish surprise, snapping up into a seated position as she pointed at the normally stoic boy.

At this, Kars' smile instantly returned to his original impassive expression.

"Damn it."

It was a while after they started their journey back to Kars' home (This time at a much more leisurely pace) that they had their first, real conversation together. It was nothing much, merely small chit-chat to help pass the time and to alleviate the slightly tense silence that hung in the air.

After all, they were still knew next to nothing about each other.

"So...how are you feeling?" Phos asked, her shiny green eyes gazing up in curiosity at the taller boy as they continued walking (To who knows where).

He glanced back down at her and answered in return with, "Why do you ask?"

"Well I was just curious, plus you don't seem like the type to say anything unless I start the conversation or something." She replied.

Kars blinked and said, "You don't need to concern yourself with such things."

"Well, maybe I don't need to, but I want to. Besides, you don't seem all that bad yourself. I mean, you helped fix me, right? That means you're a nice person!" Phosphophyllite cheerfully stated, her hands clasped behind her back and head slightly tilted as she smiled at Kars.

"It was better than waiting for you fix yourself and wasting away time that could've been used for better reasons. Like our little walk." Kars flatly responded back at her.

Phos cried out in mock hurt, "Ouch!" She slapped one of her hands on the left side of her chest, fingers lightly touching the black fabric.

"Your feelings have been noted." Kars wryly smiled, his tone dry like an arid desert. It would be a lie to say that he did not find some sort of amusement from Phos' rather expressive actions.

"Hmph," Phos crossed her arms in indignation. "On second thought, you're just a meanie!"

Kars raised an eyebrow, "Oh? Am I now?"

"Yup."

Without any of them knowing it, their friendly banter slowly melted the previous tension in the air, and somehow, Kars managed to let lose (even if only slightly) with someone-A near stranger, nonetheless.

It was strange how easy it felt being with Phosphophyllite.

It was when they'd moved on to commenting about the scenery around them that Kars realized they were nearing their (his) intended location.

"It's literally just green" stated Phos, gesturing at the varying shades of said colour that the forest came in as they moved. Even though it all looked the same to her anyways.

"It's not 'just' green, every plant or tree here has their own unique shade." Kars shot back, frowning.

"Whatever you say~" Phos airily replied, eyes lidded whilst waving her left hand at him.

As they passed by a large, large tree, Kars noticed something out of the corner of his eye. A faint symbol, spiraling and curved like air, twirled around like a silent indicator.

It was at this moment, when all of a sudden Kars turned to Phos and with arms outstretched, swept her off her feet into his muscular arms.

Phos cried out in surprise, "Wha-? W-woah!" Her arms flailed around and her eyes widened in shock.

"Don't ask."

Phosphophyllite silently nodded at Kars, her mind rolling around in confusion.

'What is he doing?!' One voice yelled out.

'Wait and see.' Said another.

'...ah-'

Kars bent his knees slightly, getting ready to run.

In his mind, he counted, 'One, two, three', and started running through the forest, keeping an eye out for more symbols on the trees.

Closer and closer they went towards the rabbit hole.

In front of them was a large cave, tall and imposing. If one were to look closely though, the rocks were decorated with detailed carvings of nature and such, becoming a large masterpiece in itself. But if one were to only look in front, all they would see was never-ending darkness greedily sucking in the moonlight that strayed into the dark.

Phos did the former. Kars did neither.

But at last, the both of them had finally reached their (Kars') intended destination, the entrance to the underground civilization of the Pillar race.

Kars slowed down to walking pace whilst still clutching onto Phosphophyllite, and in he went into the entrance, down into the winding maze that led to home.

His home.

-Chapter three end-

#houseki no kuni #kars #part 2 #battle tendancy #wammu #esidisi #santana #phos #phosphophyllite #hnk #hnk phos #crossover #fanfiction #jjba #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo no kimyō na bōken #fanfic

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hel-is-makingstuff-blog · 5 years

Text

Sloth in Soho-Ch.4

Aziraphael sat at Crowleys dining table, unnecessary reading glasses perched upon his nose, writing on a clean sheet of paper he’d found in the demon’s office.

Pride. He wrote in his practiced script, taking a brief moment to appreciate the fine quality of the fountain pen he had found, before he continued with a detailed description of Crowley’s first nightmare.

Wrath. Another description containing all that he could remember, including the feeling of something ‘other’ being present. He hadn’t realized it until he had awoken but there had been a feeling of being watched, like an amoeba under a microscope. He hesitated a moment before writing out five more words, leaving ample room aside each in preparation for the future. Greed, Envy, Gluttony, Lust, Sloth.

This was likely the path these dreams were taking, though he couldn’t fathom an order. Something out there was appealing to Crowley’s worst traits and abusing them though to what end he still was not sure. To drag him back down? To torture him? Simply because they could?

The angel fought an urge to lay his head on the table and close his eyes. He didn’t sleep yet he felt exhausted down to his very soul. Pulled thin like cellophane. It had only been three hours since he arrived in Crowley’s new home but it felt like days. Above him, in the bedroom, a fresh wave of feeling was building. If it was exhausting for him it had to be debilitating to dear Crowley. He massaged his temples, trying to ease the pressure the demons energy was causing, and pushed his own physical welfare to the back of his mind. At least it was contained to the house. He couldn’t imagine what kind of effect these forces would have on the unsuspecting humans outside.

He underlined the sins. Tapped the paper. Then stood. Time for another attempt.

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It was getting easier to keep himself clear headed as he entered Crowley’s dream. This time he had his wits and senses about him from the very start. He was prepared for all manner of horror.

He was not prepared to find himself sitting on their bench in Saint James Park. Blue skies stretched overhead and there was a sweet breeze that carried the scent of flowers. The ducks were splashing happily in the water, not far off, as children tossed bread in their direction with glee. Crowley was in his usual spot, legs akimbo and looking like he was attempting to melt through the slats, watching the passing activities of mortals with hidden eyes. Aziraphael smiled in relief. This was familiar. He could handle this. “Lovely day,” he started, pleasantly, hoping to gauge just how aware the demon was of the reality of the situation. There was a twitch at the corner of Crowley’s lips. “Suppose it is. Heard they have it better southwards. Bastards.” That was an...odd comment. Aziraphael ploughed onwards. “Some sun is better than none, yes?” “Hmph,” was all he got in return. The angel was starting to get an off feeling in his stomach again. “Uhm...did you fancy some lunch?” “What’s the point?” Crowley huffed softly, looking anywhere but the angel at his side. “We don’t need food. We don’t get hungry. We’ll never have the same enjoyment as they do. Lucky, blessed arseholes.”

Ah. Envy it was, then. “Why don’t you go back to fawning over your bloody books?” Crowley continued with a bitterness Aziraphael only heard when the demon had been drinking tequila. “That’s where you really want to be.” It took a lot for Aziraphael to not snap back at the accusation. It would be all too easy to fall into familiar patterns given the scene decorating and start trading barbs with the man. Except he knew there was no good nature hidden in the demons words.

He was envious of the time Aziraphael spent fussing about his shop. It was baffling to the angel, seeing as Crowley was welcome to join him when ever he liked but...but there may have been an uncomfortable truth in this perception. He did tend to get wrapped up between the stacks to the point of being a reprehensible host. Aziraphael took breath. Kindness. Kindness was the remedy to Envy. Beside him Crowley was beginning to work himself up, a flickering of reignited wrath threatening to flare into something very real. “Where are those kids parents?” He was asking without giving Aziraphael a chance to respond, gesticulating towards the happy little ones and their ducks. “Bloody fools. Don’t they know some wicked blighter could come and snatch them away at any minute? Kids are miracle and they just left them there! I swear, people don’t deserve half of what they got. I could do it better.”

The ground swallowed the children up like a tasty morsel, eliciting a shout from the angel. Oh this was exactly the opposite of good!

“And look at those plants!” Crowley was on a roll, standing suddenly and sauntering over to meticulously maintained flower bed. They wilted under Crowley’s gaze. “They hire some gardener, pay him with the people’s taxes, and he lets insects chew up the flowers! The fucker has the easiest job on the planet and he can’t even DO IT RIGHT.” Aziraphael followed him, hands outstretched, placating, trying to get a word in edgewise but unable.Never had he known Crowley to be envious of the world around him. Perhaps it was something he kept close to his chest or refused to acknowledge. “And your lot! They have all eternity and all of God’s favor and protection and, what? They still want to stomp on my sort? Don’t they have enough?!” Crowley snarled up at blue-grey sky, the beginning of fangs forming at his canines. “And mine are fucking oblivious to how bloody fantastic it can be up here! Imagine being able to not know and not care and just do your job without asking fifty million questions!” Envy of Gods love, envy of ignorance, envy of humans doing what they want, envy of all the things he believed just out of his reach.

“Why are you here? Didn’t I tell you get on?” Crowley huffed and paced, the blue gone from the sky. Everything was dull, grey, and miserable. Aziraphael smiled. “I want to be here. I’ve devoted this whole day to you,” he informed him cheerily. It wasn’t exactly a lie. His day so far had been centered around Crowley and there was no where else he wanted to be.

This seemed to throw the demon. “Yeh?” He shifted a bit, looking elsewhere. “Well...you needn’t have done that.”

Aziraphael approached and gave him a firm poke in the forehead. “How hard it must be, to want so much and ask for so little in return. If you need my attention you must say so. You can do nothing about the children or the plants or Heaven and Hell...but you can about me, yes? I’m right here.” Crowley’s eyebrows lifted high above his sunglasses. “You want to be here?” “Why, yes!” Aziraphael laughed and smiled, delighting in his own admission. Of course he wanted to be here. Didn’t Crowley know that? Hadn’t six thousand years of friendship in defiance of the natural order of things taught him anything? “If I didn’t want to be I would have left when they called me back all those years ago.”

“Why?” He sounded like he was asking after some secret, a note of hope in his voice, a feeling of...of...something in his aura. He was suddenly close, the park had stopped existing. All his focus was on Aziraphael. “Why?” The angel repeated, brow furrowing. Actually, why...why did they always seek each other out? Why did they risk their lives to save the world? For humanity's sake, to be sure, but...but Crowley was willing to leave it all behind as long as Aziraphael came with him. He had been tempted to accept. Even if the world ended as long as he and Crolwey weren’t forced to kill each other all would be well. It was a selfish thought he had banished the very moment it had occurred.

“I...I suppose that a great many things are better as long as you’re at my side. Whether it be sorting books, having a meal, or feeding ducks,” his voice had lost it strength and a blush was rising in his cheeks. “You’re so willing to go out of your way for me...I don’t believe I’ve ever done as much for you. I...I envy your ability to know exactly where you want to be.” Crowley was so close. Why did he need to be so close?! “Angel….” He started, all wrath and envy gone from him. Everything he ever wanted was standing directly in front of him, Aziraphael realized...and promptly began to panic. Did this mean the Crowley was-?!

“Again?” It wasn’t Crowley’s voice. This voice drawled and sounded more than a little irritated. “I do wish you’d stop interrupting. It makes everything so much harder.” Both Crowley and Aziraphael jumped, looking at the encroaching dark for a source of the voice.

It was hard to focus with Crowley’s hand on his arm like that. When had it gotten there, anyways?

“Wait your turn, foolish angel. Keep this up and I’ll have to redivert myself. That would make me cranky. You don’t want that.” Crowley was in motion then, hissing. “I know that voissssce! Aziraphael! You need-!” Whatever he needed he never found out. A noise like a vuvuzela giving birth to a fog horn during a traffic jam shook the air, blotting out his voice and scattering their thoughts to the wind. When he returned to the bed room this time he found himself basically laying on top of the demon, face in his chest. His head and ears were still ringing with a very real pain and something alarming hot was running down the sides of his face. He mopped at it hurriedly, already thinking about plunging back in- His hand came away red. Aziraphael’s ears were bleeding.

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #fanfic #fan fiction

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proto-homo · 6 years

Text

Okay I just reread the first chapter of my manuscript and I’m gagged. I don’t remember this story being this good!! I’m definitely rewriting this. Please join me in being stunned

The Slayers

First Inscription

The first thing they taught us at the Bard's college was that the strings of fate connect everyone in one way or another. Slowly turning and tightening on the lute of life, tuning until the right note is produced, the right event takes place. Tuning eternally until all the strings produce a glorious harmony. I thought it was a crock of shit. Though to be fair, one semester wasn't enough to indoctrinate me to their proposed way of life. Especially when my reasons for being there weren't my own. "Become a bard," my parents pleaded. "Please do something with your life." Their words were harsh but they had to be for high elf prodigal wizards with a son who could make a pint of ale disappear quicker than he could a copper coin. I wasn't a complete magical failure, I just had no knack for it like my parents. They had clawed their way up the hierarchical elven ladder in a world that shunned our kind. We were dusk elves, not quite dark enough to be dark elves and nowhere near fair enough to be the prototypical waifish elf. Opportunities were far and few between for our skinfolk but my parents were changing that perception one draconian ritual at a time. I wasn't so lucky and I could tell growing up that they felt the same. So I followed their wishes and attended the college, learning to focus what little ability and skill I had. Unfortunately that one semester came and went in a deluge of offensiveness. Those backwater mages acted as if they'd never met a dusk elf and I developed an eternal scowl. My skin was an autumnal symphony of crushed leaves and my eyes were browner than the deepest of earth's hues. We were creatures of nature and magic. Why wouldn't I look this glorious? My question went unanswered and my need for the school went with it. I was out promptly that solstice break, but not without my books and several stolen silver pieces from the campus vault, using the skills they taught me. Needless to say, I was banned and designated the Rogue Bard. My parents weren't delighted by the news. We don't talk much these days but things are better. Mostly because of the exploits tied to my name. I've played for Kings and Queens all across and below Alstaff, fought bravely against deadly scourges, drank Orcs under the table, and romanced men and women(and Kings and Queens on occasion). All this while chronicling my adventures and deftly avoiding those pesky strings of fate. Or so I'd thought until I received a most auspicious invitation. It was early and I was far from awake when I heard my name being shouted through the halls in a manner I wasn't used to.

“Eonis Everfall of the Highdale Archmages!” boomed the voice down the hall, rousing me from a drunken slumber.

Thin sheets clung to my sticky exposed chest as the sunlight streaming through my window wreaked havoc on my senses. It was summer in the city of Faeron and the sun hung high at an angle above the town that made for astounding harvests and horrible hangovers.

The voice shouted again and I was swiftly reminded that a night of debauchery wasn’t the best thing to do every night. I slid out of bed as coordinated as I could muster. My head swum in dreaming mist as I made my way to the door, only to stop when a realization dawned on me. Nobody knew my full name, hell most people didn’t know my first name, but to call me so boldly and mention Highdale was a sure sign that trouble was brewing.

I staggered to my pack and drew a dirk, trying my best to not be as uncoordinated as the ale was making me. I was never that great at bladed combat but as I inched the door and opened it a crack, I reminded myself that as a bard I was always supposed to be just good enough.

“In here,” I shouted in a half assured tone. Anxiety bubbled in my stomach until the blankets behind me stirred.

“Eonis,” groaned the pile of sheets, “If there’s someone here to kill you tell them to come back later. I’m trying to sleep.” Tavaris emerged from the sheets like a wraith hunting for souls, delivering a glare that nearly made me forget he was naked. His ebony skin shimmered in the light as he stretched, giving off an inhuman glow intensified by his crimson boring into me. He had a predatory gaze, no doubt honed from his decades in the Assassin’s guild but whenever he stared at me, there was a softness behind it.

“You’re the only one who knows I’m here and I doubt you’d let somebody else take up a hit on me. You like a good challenge.”

He snorted as he looked me up and down, saying, “Your stance is terrible. You’d be flayed alive in seconds.”

His eyes darted to the ground and my focus followed to an envelope shooting from under the door. I turned to open it only to be greeted by an empty hall and my unease increased.

“Calm down, it’s just mail,” groaned Tavaris before slumping back into bed. I closed the door and picked up the letter, tearing it open with my dirk.

He was right. It was just mail. Stamped with a royal seal, the letter disclosed information about a formal event taking place in Balethorn, just two cities away. It was to be a splendid debutante's ball and the young miss had requested the presence of the fabled ‘rogue bard.’

I sighed in slight relief. Requests like this were routine but the fact still stood that they knew my name. I sat on the edge of the bed and read the letter to Tavaris as he wrapped his arms around my waist and nuzzled his face into my side.

“Sounds kinda like a trap,” he said, gnawing at my exposed skin. “Your music’s not that great anyway.”

I nodded along before he said his last line, falling back on him in retribution. He was right though, he had to be in his line of work. Traps, tricks, and treachery were all in the assassin’s handbook and if not for my dashing good looks, I’m sure I would’ve fallen to his blade when we met.

A simple quest made our paths cross; recover the children from the Sin Eater demon and find the one who summoned it. It was all fine and dandy till Tavaris dropped out of the sky on me and strung a garrote around my neck, letting me know there was far more going on than I thought. That day I learned that not everybody wanted to be saved. Some people enjoyed feeding sheep to the wolves to keep them at bay.

It wasn’t all bad though. I at least picked up a few new skills and a new murderous lover.

I looked back to Tavaris and shrugged. “I’ll do it. I haven’t been sucked into a primordial evil soup in months. Could be fun. I’ll let you know when I get back.”

I hopped off of him and began to gather my things before he said, “I won’t be here when you get back.”

I rolled my eyes. It was the same message he repeated every time before he vanished. Sure enough, before I got a second to say anything, he was gone. If there was anything of his I coveted, it was his mode of travel. I shook my head and began to gather my things, bemoaning the burden of the bard.

Lute, flute, sword, bow and arrows, lockpicks, small shield, chainmail, magic totem, magic tome, magic wand, and dirks. I ran through the list of my supplies as I suited up and gave my room the thrice-over before leaving. I carried the letter in hand as I strolled out of the inn. I read it again for good measure.

The insignia was nothing I’d seen before and that was saying something. I was a walking compendium of knowledge, a seeker of truth and historical lore, but as I brushed a finger over the wax stamp closing the envelope, I felt out of my element. I could see the strings of fate winding slowly but this was a new note being played. My only choice was to finish the song.

Faeron was unbearable when I stepped foot out into the sun. Quick cooling incantations were my only solace in the face of summer’s embrace. Out in the world, people were hustling and bustling around the town. Harvest was fast approaching and with it came the panic of superstition and the festival fervor.

There was a tale that traveled through agricultural circles around this time of year, the tale of Lady Amoundour. A lowly farm maiden with the blackest of thumbs prayed to the heavens for a healthy harvest. Her prayers were answered by the Sun with a hefty bounty but the Earth grew spiteful that she didn’t pray more to the dirt and so by way of winding roads, it sent bandits to raid her farmland. Luckily, she held fast in her beliefs of equal reverence and the Sun aided her, bringing its fiery rays upon the bandits and scorching them to dust.

The farmers took it as a parable about having equal deference to the components needed for a healthy harvest. I took it as a sign that the gods were petty and enjoyed us dancing for approval.

Regardless of my beliefs, Faeron was far into the festivities. Wood-carved Sun plaques hung from every home and business. Fresh dirt was tracked all across the ground of the city, ruining my new boots. Bakers yelled for people to come sample their Sun cakes and Dirt puddings, bringing a deluge of child patrons and sending a twinge of disgusted intrigue up my spine. Knowing these people, there was definitely dirt in those puddings.

I snatched up a Sun cake, tossing a few copper pieces to the vendor before making my way through the shops to the square. While my romp with Tavaris had been a great reason to stop in Faeron, I had a real reason for being there.

A huge crowd filled the square, cheering at a man dressed in robes of spun gold standing high up on a stage. He wore a bronze crown painted gold and revelled in the crowd's cheering before urging them to be silent.

“Welcome to the Amoundour Festival!” he shouted and the crowd’s cheering picked back up. I crept through the droves of people lining the square.

Every year the festival was held all across the world but Faeron was special. Only here, they held a very real reenactment of Lady Amoundour’s struggles, much to the dismay of the local farmers. For decades, one farmer would be chosen at random to act as the Lady of this year, devising ways to rescue their crops from very real threats. For decades, they would endure this trial or watch their crops be decimated and their land destroyed thanks to a magical artifact these fools should never have possessed.

I watched in silence, arms folded as the faux-Sun made his way across the stage to his throne and took a seat, gesturing for his servants. Dressed in drab, gray robes resembling clouds, a pair of sullen kids carried a gilded case containing the artifact in question.

It was called the Eternal Sun Rod in certain circles of collectors, a powerful gift from the gods on high. With it, the ruler of Faeron held a tight grip over farmland production, instilling fear into the hearts of any who would try to amass enough wealth to escape his rule. Every decade, he would wipe away the status of one family and every decade the people would cheer because it wasn’t them that time. This would be the last time.

I looked around at the painted on smiles and forced laughter as the faux-Sun did his dance up on stage. Sprinkled in the crowd were the broken faces of the farmers who banded together to hire me. Their offering had been a pittance but I wasn’t in this for the money. I was there to cut the strings of fate wound tightly around this town’s neck.

“The time has come, everyone!” decreed the tyrant as one his clouds dropped to one knee and presented him with a gilded box.

The crowd fell deathly silent when he reached into the box and began to rummage through it for the latest target. All I needed was a name. A name and I could start to put an end to this. I watched the people and saw the pain etched into their faces. Tyrants like this weren’t born in a day, not even a year.

They told me their festival used to be one of peace and joy, that at one point their lives were normal, but slowly it all unraveled until this was their way of life. I knew struggle, I lived it, and there was no way I’d let this happen to anyone else.

I felt the tension skyrocket as he withdrew his hand from the box and I began creeping back out of the crowd.

“Gilda Gletch!” He shouted, “Age sixty-two, childless widow. Oh this will be a quick one. Gilda, pray to the Sun for mercy and beg the Earth for forgiveness!”

Gasps rang out from the crowd. I raced to the edge of the town and hummed a bardic tune to myself. Song of Swiftness, spell number thirty-two in the overpriced pamphlet they gave me. With it, I was off, racing through the trees at breakneck speeds.

I could hear my father’s voice in my head. He’d told me to do something with my life and since that day I resolved to do everything I could.

I broke through the trees and out onto Gilda’s small corner of a farmstead. She was across the small field, sitting on the porch of her home in defiance.

“So it was me,” she called out as I approached her and delivered a strained smile. She nodded in return and waved me over. “It’s fine. Don’t be dismayed. I’ve lived through six of these festivals, seen them grow into something vile. I’m just happy it will all end today.”

Her tone was far from joy in the face of this impending raid and I could tell she had little trust in my ability. I didn’t blame her. We bards were seen as performers, consultants, skilled workers. Warriors were far from our image but that never stopped me.

I drew my sword and knelt at her feet, saying, “You’re right. It will end today. I’ll make sure of that.”

She looked into my eyes and for a split second I saw hope until fear snatched it away. I turned sharply to a band of six masked men emerging from the trees.

“What the hell is this?” asked one of them as he threw down a hololense crystal to project our images back to the town square.

They drew their weapons slowly, whirling them for effect. I stood and raised my sword, drew a wand from my belt and said, “Retribution, damnation, I honestly don’t care what you call me.”

They crept closer to me, closing the distance between us and I said, “Gilda...you might want to get in the house for this.”

A swordsman on my left charged as those words left my lips. I met his blade with my own, parrying the blow and leaping back before daggers sailed through the air. I traced their path to the slow moving Gilda and made a sharp dash to my right, blocking the daggers with my sword.

One by one they came at me, slashing as I leapt out of the way and blocked their strikes.

“Fancy dancer, are you gonna fight back?!” shouted one of the men as he swung his greatsword in an arc.

I ducked below his blade and raised my wand to his stomach, chanting, “Retch.”

He froze instantly, dropped his blade and grabbed hold of himself. He doubled over and emptied the contents of his stomach.

“Never fancied myself for much of a dancer. Playing music was much more my thing!”

I whistled and tapped my sword. Like a tuning fork, it vibrated, sending sonic waves cross the field. The men dropped their weapons and clutched their ears as I drew daggers from my belt and launched a shower of blades.

I sheathed my weapons as they cried out in pain and drew my magic tome, chanting, “Sleep.”

The words drifted through the air, heavy with arcane intent and the men collapsed. I let out a quick sigh and wiped my hands clean. I walked over to each bandit and drew my blades from their sleeping bodies, making eye contact with the hololense crystal.

I held my breath, waiting for the searing light of the sun to crash down on me. When nothing happened I could tell the sight of me dispatching these goons left at least one person in shock.

“I take it by the lack of death rays you’re still stunned at my assault. No matter, I’ll be making it back to the city in just moments for a face to face. Ah, and don’t worry about your little sun trick. This arcane barrier I’m erecting will block out the sun.”

I smirked and raised my tome, chanting once again. My blood was ice water and my breath frost as the tome began to float before me. Waves of ice emanated from me, encircling the little farmland in their icy grasp. I looked up to the sky as I began to run back to Faeron and had to stifle a laugh when nothing attacked my barrier. I’d bluffed to high heavens and he believed me. That barrier of hoarfrost wouldn’t even survive a warm dinner roll bumping against it.

The streets were deserted the second I stepped foot into the city. The tension was thick in the air but I held fast to my defiant image. These people had been pawns in the hands of a mad man for too long. They needed a rallying point.

“Little early to be ending the party!” I shouted as I approached the town square. “If I remember the tale right, the Sun and Earth have a special bond, right? Well maybe it’s time you two got more acquainted.”

The faux-sun sat atop his throne, looking down at me as he lazily turned the rod in his hand. His expression read unimpressed but I was well versed in reading people. My little stunt on the farm had shook him. He had sent his men as bandits to raid a defenseless old woman and met the swiftest resistance. Now he was alone.

“You know nothing of the tale, boy,” he said with a sigh, rolling his eyes in a dismissive manner, “But you will learn the Sun’s power today!”

He slammed the staff on the ground and I chanted a Swift Song before the blazing beam burned through cobblestone. Beams of light followed my every step as I ducked and dodged the blazing energy, much to his frustration.

“Why won’t you stay still?!” he shouted as he jumped up from his throne.

I drew my wand and totem, raising the little symbol to my mouth and chanting, “Solaris”

He slammed the staff again and I froze, letting him hit me head on. The totem chimed when the light hit me, exploding and reflecting a portion of the light back onto the stage. Chainmail singed my flesh but I bit my lip through the pain and focused as the faux-Sun staggered back.

“Larghissimo,” I chanted as I raised my wand and the explosion on stage slowed to a halt.

The faux-Sun froze with a look of horror on his face. I approached, tapped my wand on his nose, and whispered, “Allegro.”

Instantly his head returned to normal speed and his anger came with it. He thrashed in the slowed mass of light, grumbling as he shouted, “Release me at once! I will have your head for this!”

I ignored his blustering and took a seat on his throne before asking, “What’s wrong? You’re supposed to be the sun, no? I’m just helping complete the effect.”

I watched him float their helplessly and thought of the Bard college’s teachings. Our spells were to help, not hinder. Our voices were to be a guide in time of need. Even the spells I’d used on the faux-Sun were non-combative. I couldn’t have hurt him if I wanted and boy did I want to. I let him float in stasis for a few seconds until his anger melted into existential panic.

“I could leave you floating here forever, a ball of light untouched by time,” I whispered into his ear, telling blatant lies.

Most people never studied our power or our limits and the dread in his face showed he was one of these people.

“P-please,” he cried out, sweat pouring from his face. “I-I’ll stop it, I swear. I’ll stop it. I’ll never attack another person again.”

He pleaded before I tapped my wand on the throne. He dropped out of the air as the light dissipated and I grabbed the Eternal Sun Rob, saying, “Not without this, you won’t.”

I waved my wand over the length of the staff, whispering ‘shrink’ into the ether until the Sun Rod complied. It shrank to the size of a quill before I slipped it in my pocket and stomped on the stage.

“People of Faeron, throw open your doors and enjoy your harvest. Now your festival can really begin!”

I shouted and slowly the people took notice. Windows slid open and doors with them before cheering rang out. Finally, their town had been set free. I was greeted with gracious hosts and deep vendor discounts but I couldn’t stay long. Not with the party on my heels.

I refilled my supplies, rented a horse, and I was off. Travel between Faeron and Balethorn was quiet. It seemed I had fulfilled my karmic duty as neither bandit nor bandersnatch attacked me on the road.

In fact, nothing seemed to make its presence known to me along the road. The silence became palpable the further I rode from Faeron but I soldiered on. Curiosity got the best of me and trap or not, I needed to know how they knew me.

The sunlight began to wane and for the first time since I set out, I felt a pair of eyes following. Monstrous trees cast tall shadows all around me, threatening to swallow the path before me. Even the horse felt the tension, straying off the road in fear.

“Shh, it’s okay. I won’t let anything happen to you,” I whispered into the ear of the horse, thankful no one was around to see me trying to console him.

A few people see you talking to animals and rumors quickly spread. As if druids are the only ones in touch with nature.

His whining stopped for a second and as I leaned back, I caught sight of a light in the distance, beckoning my presence. This was it, had to be it. The closer I rode the more grandiose the building presented itself.

Dirt roads turned to pristine cobblestone, clacking evenly beneath my horse’s hooves. The mansion was a bulwark of civility in the middle of a savage forest. Gold lanterns lit the path before me, shining bright against solid red brick walls. A low overture began to fill the silence of the forest as a pair of stablemen greeted me at the door.

I dismounted and nodded to them both before they took my horse. Laughter spilled from the opening doors, making me immediately regret coming here.

Haughty laughter and sour notes filled the pauses in forced conversations between noble men and women. There were people of power and influence littering the room, keeping their political rivals at arms length and I began wondering just what I walked into.

“I see I’m not the only one lost here,” said a voice to my left.

I turned to see a young woman smirking at me with plump lips and a viper’s gaze. Thick coils of jet black hair encircled her head, covering one lavender eye. She folded her arms over the low-cut black dress that hugged her more than ample curves, letting the light bounce off her deep umber skin.

Our eyes met and at once I felt like the prey staring down his predator. She stood barely up to my chest but there was something about her that made her presence monstrous.

“S-seems that way,” I stammered before she made her approach.

“Iris Glaive, explorer extraordinaire who’s apparently been tasked with teaching a brat how to go spelunking. And you are?” she asked before looking away from me.

Her eyes scanned the room, continuously reading and assessing the gathered partygoers. There was something dark about her, a sinister air threatening to choke me. I could tell she knew and relished it.

“Eonis...Everfall and yes, I am quite lost. I believe I’m to be the party’s entertainment but it seems they already have a musician.”

Sour notes and uncoordinated key changes threw the entire overture away, leaving nothing but its crumbs behind but no one seemed to take note. I glanced down to Iris and she smirked, saying, “That’s a shame. I would hope your playing doesn’t make my ears bleed like this current amatuer.”

I smirked back to her as she took notice of the talentless talent and felt that predatory gaze soften. She tapped my arm and my heart skipped a beat when she said, “Come, there’s mead, and it’s far away from this sound.”

She turned to walk away and I followed but even a few steps behind, I felt her eyes hard pressed on me. She shared that she had received the same strange invitation as I did and intrigue got the best of her but the idea of her being a plain old adventurer didn’t sit right with me. There was something dark lurking beneath the visage before me and it could tell I saw it.

She turned on a dime, handing me a glass of mead before giving my glass a light tap in toast and saying, “So you’re a bard, I see.”

I swallowed my mead and nearly choked when she made her quick assessment. I squinted and she raised a hand before saying, “How can I tell, you ask? There’s a little arcane trick they’ve taught you kiddies for centuries and it always makes my nose itch when you try it on me. Don’t you worry. There’s no need to read me. Our meeting won’t matter after tonight.”

She took a slow drink from her glass, smiling softly and I stared in silent contemplation. Who was this woman? What was she?

She smirked as if she’d heard my thoughts before delivering a sly wink. She leaned in close and stood on the tips of her toes, whispering, “Don’t worry bout a thing. Nothing sinister was meant. I was just saying it’s back to adventuring after this. Besides….even if it were sinister, there are plenty of guards here to stop me.”

She tapped my shoulder as she leaned back and her eyes darted around the room. Sure enough, there were several guards covertly stationed around the room at several windows and doorways. At a gala such as this, it wasn’t a strange occurrence to see a slew of guards spread around the place but Iris’ wicked tone seemed to suggest something sinister.

“Enjoy the party,” she curtsied and walking away.

I watched her disappear into the party, greeting high society types as if she’d entertained this sort before. She seemed right at home in this atmosphere of glitz and glamour. Neither gold leafed hors d’oeuvre nor jewel encrusted finery could dismay her sense of status. I found myself unable to take my eyes off her until a guard stepped in my path, causing me to stagger back in alarm.

“Sir Everfall, yes? You’ve been invited to a private dinner with the guests of honor,” he said through the iron helmet covering his face. I stood straight up and shook away my nerves before he said, “Do not worry about the entertainment. You will be compensated for your time here. Please, follow me.”

The guard spoke in a monotone voice, not once waiting to see if I was taking in anything he said. He turned and walked away with the suggestion to follow. I scanned the room for Iris to ask what she’d make of this new private invitation but she was already gone.

By now the room was lost in its revelry and as I passed through the dance floor at a brisk pace behind the guard, I could hear nothing but a string of sour notes being played. I could tell fate was giving me a sign but curiosity got the better of me. If only to see the guest of honor, I followed the guard into a large dining hall separated from the dance floor by a set of towering oak doors.

Inside I was greeted by an assortment of new faces and sure enough, Iris sat among among them. She raised a glass to me with a smirk before turning back to a heated debate between political rivals, instigating their argument.

The guard closed the doors and walked ahead to pull out what had to be my assigned seating. I followed, taking a seat only after noticing the ball of nerves dressed in ornate robes seated next to me. A lithe young man with cheekbones sharper than than the edge of a claymore fidgeted in his seat with his head down. He was a statue carved of red granite, moving incrementally before returning to his starting position. Tendrils of coarse black hair hung loosely over one side of his head while the other side was pinned back, revealing an elven ear.

“Nice to meet another elf here. I’m Eonis, Eonis Everfall,” I tried my best to start up a conversation without having him die of shock.

He nearly leaped out of his skin when he heard my voice, turning slowly to look at me with amber eyes through thick lenses of glasses. He cracked a smile that quickly faded to a grin before he looked back down and nodded.

“R-right. Yes, nice to meet you as well. I’m B-belia, Belia Borfin,” he stuttered before wincing and saying, “S-sorry. I’m nervous. I’ve never been to an event like this. I attended with my Professor and other students but it seems I’ve been separated from the lot.”

His voice rattled worse than his body did and I attempted a grin to ease his nerves, asking, “So you’re a mage?”

He inhaled a sharp breath before looking up and nodding quickly.

“Y-yes, well, I’m attempting to be...I’m not that good right now but my Professor says it’s to be expected of apprentices. I just hope to do my best”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head. At least your not the son of archmages who can’t even make a coin disappear. You’ll do just fine.”

I winked to him as he looked into my eyes and he let out a nervous laugh that seemed to ease him a tick.

“Thank you.” He looked around the room, mouth agape in awe, asking, “Any idea exactly who’s party we’re attending?”

I shrugged at his question looking around in awe just as he did before taking another sip of mead. The room seemed to be filled with a hodgepodge of guests. An armored knight sat next to a cobbler and a craftsman on one side of the table while a drunkard, political figures, and socialites sat on the other side of the table. I spotted another patron, masked and lost in prayer before the grand doors slid open and gasps abound from all gathered as a familiar face made his presence known.

“Welcome,” said the tall high elf, dressed in extravagant robes of gold painted moons as he strolled into the room. Whispers spilled from the crowd as he tapped his staff on the ground before taking a seat at the head of the table.

“I’m not sure if an introduction is needed here but I will make one either way. I am Moridon Highwater of the Rolling Glens, Grand Magus of Alstaff.”

He nodded and closed his eyes as the crowds whispering grew but I could only stare in shock. Of course there was no need for introduction.

Moridon Highwater was known throughout the lands. Advisor to the King of Alstaff, Moridon’s power was unparalleled in the field of sorcery. Not even my parents held a candle to his might. He had been born the son magicless vagrants and quickly became the most powerful self-taught mage of our time. He was my mirror.

He opened his eyes slowly and I could feel his gaze brush by briefly as if he’d heard my thoughts. He looked around the table and grinned to the gathered before saying, “I must apologize for the lateness of our young miss. She has asked me to continue the dinner in her stead. It seems her dress was not quite right so we’re having the Modiste Magus conjure up a new dress.”

He chuckled and the room exploded in laughter but I watched in silence at his strained laughter. There was a venomous aura about him, a power he tamped down just to be around the gathered mundane. I could hear Belia’s dinnerware clatter as he put a hand on the table before pulling it away with his other hand.

He was pouring sweat and no doubt trapped between shock and horror at the power before him. I placed a hand on his and looked him in the eye, breathing slowly and nodding for him to follow. He took a few deep breaths before nodding quickly and I let go of his hand. It seemed he had yet to be trained on refining his aura and at his current rate, he was only seconds from being devoured.

My focus darted to Iris and from across the table I spotted her cold intentful stare focused squarely on Moridon as she sipped from her glass. As I looked around, it seemed the whole room was unaware of the power we faced, all except the three of us and the masked knight lost in prayer.

I turned back to Moridon and caught a fraction of a grin before he tapped his staff on the ground. Light flickered from the rose quartz crystal atop an angelic pair of wings that gilded the top of his staff before filling the room.

“Shall we feast?” he said with a smile before the doors opened up and several waiters poured into the room.

A buffet of the finest meats and cheeses littered the table as they brought out more and more entrees and desserts. People began jumping at the food before placing could even finish. They were ravenous, insatiable, and I couldn’t help but lose my appetite at the display.

My focus drifted to Moridon who sat stone-faced, watching the carnage without taking a bite to eat and I swallowed hard before asking, “This is nice and all, but who exactly is this ‘young miss’ we’re here to meet?”

His eyes darted to mine and I nearly collapsed in my seat from his predatory gaze. I could feel him, wriggling through my thoughts, through the entirety of my being before Iris cleared her throat.

“I’ve been wondering the same thing,” she said in defense of my questioning and the room seemed to take a break from eating all at once.

Moridon delivered a strained grin and I tried to hop out of my seat to no avail. I was paralyzed in fear.

“Oh you may know of her. Prestigious royalty from a land far from here,” he began to say as his voice lilted. “She was once the Queen of an entire realm, you see, but as you know, not everything lasts for everyone. Not even the eternal.”

He cut Iris a sharp glare before his face returned to a grin in seconds. I could see her shaking slightly but not once did she move to put down the glass in her hand. The mead vibrated with her nervous energy before Moridon continued.

“It seems not everyone was satisfied with her rule and so, under the cover of darkness, like the spineless wretches they were, her royal court committed a heinous act. You see, the young miss couldn’t be killed, no, not with the power she possessed. Her court knew it and to see her deposed, they hatched an ingenious plan. A crystal was forged with the power to capture a god and on that night they did as such, ensnaring her and shattering its pieces….Only, they thought this would be the end of the young miss but as the crystal shattered into endless shards, so did her essence, dispersing into the world and finding homes in the oddest of places. Knights, cobblers, craftsmen, and bards.”

His voice boomed as he said his last line and the room was frozen in horror before one of politicians screamed in terror and leaped from her seat. The whole room erupted in a panic and screams could be heard from the hall just beyond the doors. All the while, Moridon remained seated, smirking coyly.

“Oh there’s no point in running. Now that you’ve ingested the flesh and blood of the young miss, you won’t make it far,” he said before one of the guests jumped from their seat and doubled over, grabbing his stomach in pain.

He grabbed his throat as figures moved up it and tendrils shot out of his mouth. I leaped from my seat as Iris grabbed her stomach, brandishing my wand and shouting, “Wretch! Wretch! WRETCH!”

In rapid succession, I fired several spells around the room before my stomach rumbled and the doors flew open. I turned the wand on myself and fell to my knees as the searing pain of bile raced up my throat.

I pulled Belia under the table and grabbed a dagger from my boot as the marching of the guard’s feet filled the room.

“Don’t move!” I shouted before several hands pulled me away.

I turned my dagger on the armored hands of my captor, shouting, “Allegro!”

The spell took off, sending my dagger hand rocketing through the air with enough force to pierce metal but the guard barely registered the pain. My eyes darted around the room and I spotted Iris’ blood covered mouth before I looked to the still seated Moridon. Stoned faced and silent, he watched as the guards swarmed everyone before tapping his staff on the ground.

Darkness filled the edges of my eyes and then before I knew it, I was gone.

#my writing

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