#also how do the secret tasks somehow fit people's personalities so well a lot of the time
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Hello and welcome to Utter Ridiculousness, the likes of which happens sometimes when I'm sleepy! :)
Alrighty, so! A highly abstract and conceptual (at this point, at least) Psych-but-Star-Wars AU, using as a starting point of inspiration Lassiter interrupting Juliet's briefing (Psych S4E13::Clone Wars S2E6), basing character substitutions on where it's convenient for them to be (rather than on personality like I probably should), and, as my sister would say, flopping around and finding out. I AM FORMULATING THIS IDEA AS I GO SO DO NOT TAKE ANY OF IT SERIOUSLY.
Jedi and the Force are a thing, by the way. Just a note, as a slight establishment of continuity or something.
Carlton Lassiter-> Anakin Skywalker, head detective of... the department of Somewhere. I dunno exactly where he's based yet. Might be Tatooine, might not, we'll- TATOOINE LIBERATION ARC (in the tone of SQUIRREL)! Though obviously I could never write one of those even half as well as cough SOME people I know cough but we'll see. Anyways, he's, like, both the favorite and the problem child of the Jedi Order/Police At Large, because he gets stuff done but nobody likes how. He was trained by Obi-Wan Kenobi, who now works with some elite task force somewhere (the Council) but pops in a lot (invited or otherwise) to help Anakin with stuff.
Juliet O'Hara-> Ahsoka Tano, Anakin's junior partner (see: padawan. I'm not quite sure how being the police fits in with the Jedi Order yet so bear with me). Since them two are like the best team, they get all the difficult cases, which given that Ahsoka is um pretty young actually! causes Anakin to be constantly oscillating between Teach Child How to Solve Crimes and Keep Child Away from Criminals. (Usually he does the first one, and when he tries to do the second one Ahsoka vetos it and comes along anyways, with or without permission.)
Karen Vick-> Padmé Amidala. We're deviating from the source material a little bit. Well clearly it is not a little bit it is a lot bit but ANYWAY! She runs the department because she's good at Organizing Chaos, and Leading People in Doing the Right Thing, and also at Administrative Stuff even though she hates it. Also because the Jedi work for the Senate- maybe I should've started with that. (She also has an elite task force of her own- see: Naboo Handmaidens! They're, like, a secret spy team or something.)
Nobody suspects that the chief and the head detective are actually married. Definitely not. (That's a lie. Everyone knows. They all just turn a blind eye and rely on plausible deniability, because Rules prevent married couples from working together because conflict of interest something something I guess? but everybody loves both of them and doesn't want either one to get fired or transferred or anything.)
Ooof but then Padmé might have to take an extended leave to Naboo or something once she gets pregnant (which she has to at some point obviously it's Star Wars) because given enough time there's no way people won't notice and it's not like she can just ban literally everybody from her office. Anakin's gonna hate that and it'll take some figuring.
I guess Rex is McNab but more competent? XD He's definitely a lot more involved in the story, and Anakin and Ahsoka take him on missions with them more often than not. (I'll need to figure out what exactly is going on with the clones in this universe. A lot of it doesn't make sense- at least not yet- again, bear with me. :))
Mmm this is where it gets interesting.
Shawn Spencer-> Korkie Kryze, planetary leader's "nephew" (see: son) who somehow ends up accidentally looking like he has some sort of Fancy Magical Ability, and has to keep up appearances because Reputations and Publicity, or something like that. (Clearly, the characters who are suggesting themselves to be in these roles are very different from the original roles. In his case it's less "commit to the bit" and more "commit to NOT RUINING A MINIMUM OF SEVERAL THINGS FOR MOST OF THE PEOPLE I KNOW". )
Henry Spencer-> Duchess Satine Kryze, for obvious reasons. She's not quite on board with all Korkie's LIES AND DECEIT, but is the definition of "I know a guy" because as a politician she does in fact know many people who know many things. So she aids and abets, no matter how grudging it appears to be. I mean, what is she supposed to do, not help her kid?
Side note: if there's gonna be a legitimate and/or believable reason for Obitine to be separated, the police force will essentially have to BE the Jedi Order. They're probably more like Space FBI or something than normal police. Eh, I'll figure it out. Essentially Jedi Code is still in effect.
Burton Guster-> Barriss Offee, Jedi healer who's been stationed on Mandalore for a while as… a glorified doctor or something I guess? Force Healing Attending at the Sundari hospital? Apparently in this universe Jedi regularly work in places other than the Temple and/or Coruscant, so we're gonna go with that. Anyway, she's friends with Korkie, and helps him keep up appearances after they get into a Situation together.
As a result of said Situation, about which I do not know the particulars as of yet, the Jedi all end up thinking Korkie somehow has psychometry despite being Force-null. Really he's just very good at reading both people and situations, because his politician mom taught him to be. Obviously neither he nor Barriss is actually psychometric, which makes it a little difficult for them to keep THE JEDI ORDER convinced that he is.
This almost becomes a very big problem at some point when there's an appearance by Quinlan Vos, who is an actual psychometric detective, and his (technically former) partner Aayla Secura, who can clock a lie from a mile away. Do they know Korkie is faking? Obviously. Do they care enough to tell anybody? Absolutely not. Does Quinlan give him tips on making his fake psychometry more believable? Nobody can prove it!
By dint of a) Obi-Wan being "old friends" with Satine (their McMess of a marriage- it gets better later, of course- is ACTUALLY a secret, though Anakin definitely suspects something) and b) Quinlan being extremely hard to get in touch with, due to him constantly working with the rather questionable Dathomir detective division (Aayla is the only one who's suspicious about that, just because nobody else really hears anything about what he does), Korkie becomes the default person to call whenever people need a lil extra help with a case.
Also Padmé and Satine are Senate Besties, so Padmé has no problems hiring Korkie. She just… doesn't really question the whole psychometry thing, cause she's used to Jedi being weird (the one she's married to being among the weirdest of them) so at this point she just rolls with it. Anakin does question it, loudly and frequently. Padmé thinks he's just jealous. Ahsoka questions it a little, cause it doesn't quite make sense sometimes, but even when it doesn't she goes along with it anyways cause it's fun! She's definitely a frequent participant in shenanigans (both sanctioned and unsanctioned) with Korkie and Barriss, with whom she forms a highly chaotic trio. Anakin is not entirely sure how to feel about this, because a) she has friends her age now and that's good! however, b) said friends are constantly getting into Situations and dragging Ahsoka with them. (That's not entirely true; the vast majority of the time, Ahsoka is going along with them completely voluntarily.)
Oh, and Shmi Skywalker lives. Just as a general rule, even though I don't know precisely what's going on with her yet. It's just unacceptable in any universe if she doesn't.
Now apparently I have to rewatch Psych for storyline help, even though I haven't finished watching it the first time yet (due to watching it with my family, who are almost never all in the same place at the same time, let alone at a good time for shows). So... welcome to Katy's brain coming up with ideas she may or may not ever actually write. Thank you and goodbye! <3
@clawedandcute I TOLD YOU THIS WAS ALL YOUR FAULT (AFFECTIONATE)
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Night and Day
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Word Count: 4263
Warnings: Language, witch!reader, mentions and implicaitons of sex, angst, some fluff, not enough editing to satisfy me
Summary: You hid the fact that you were a witch from the Winchester brothers for years. After a run in with an old mentor of yours causes your secret to be revealed, the brothers find out that not only are you a witch, but one of the most powerful in the world. When Dean is given the task to kill you in exchange for his brother’s life, you must face the fact you lied to the man you loved- the same man who hates witches with a burning passion.
A/N: My tags haven’t been working lately. I’m going to put my tags in a reblog. Comment or shoot me an ask letting me know if you got a notification or not. Oh, and also- surprise!
“Dean, I’m serious. We gotta get up.”
You gently nudged at your boyfriend. A smile played on your lips as you felt his arms tighten around you. He whined and let out a long sigh.
“Five more minutes.”
“You said that twenty mintues ago,” you scoffed, smirking down at him. He groaned and lifted his head to look at you.
“You’re a joy killer,” he said.
“A joy killer?” You asked. You raised a brow as your smirk grew. “Really?”
“Yeah, that’s right,” Dean said.
“Right. Okay big boy, up and attem, let’s go. We’ve got that case in Ozark.”
Dean groaned again. “We just got back from a case two days ago.”
“Comes with the job description, honey,” you said. You swung your legs out of bed, placing your feet onto the floor. As you stood up, Dean suddenly wrapped his arms around you again, pulling you back down onto the bed. You squealed as he squeezed your sides, his lips latching onto your throat.
“Wanna stay here with you,” Dean said. He raised his head to kiss your lips. You ran your hand through his hair, his fingers running up your side, raising to cup your breast beneath your shirt.
“Dean, we don’t have time for this,” you said. He peppered kisses along your throat and collarbone, settling on the pulse point below your ear. “As much as I love doing this, we really need to get up.”
Dean halted his movements and lifted his head to scowl at you. He pushed himself up and off you, walking over to the dresser.
“Alright, fine,” he huffed. “Joy killer.”
***
“Of course, it has to be fucking witches.”
You winced at his words. You had been in Ozark for nearly a day now. After interviewing two of the victims who survived the attacks, you had also spoken to the detectives on the case before investigating the victims’ homes. The victims claimed to have been attacked by a shadow figure. The other three victims had been slaughtered in their homes, while the two survivors suffered severe lacerations and what seemed to be burns. You and the brothers were stumped for a while, until you found a hex bag hidden in a vase in one of the homes, and another hex bag stuffed in a couch cushion in the other.
You always hated witch cases. Not only were they dangerous, but they were also conflicting. You were a natural born witch, coming from a long line of witches on your mother’s side of the family. You had the gift of sight, also known as psychic abilities, and you had practiced witchcraft since you were thirteen.
When you had met Dean Winchester, it had been on a ghoul hunt. In those three days, you instantly felt an attraction to him that you couldn’t describe. You never thought he would be interested in you. You saw the women he’d frequent, and you weren’t like them. You were in shape, hunting keeping you fit, however you had some stretch marks, love handles, and thicker thighs than you would’ve liked. You also weren’t the prettiest woman in your opinion. You weren’t ugly, but you were always self conscious of the way you looked. You were sarcastic, cursed like a sailor, and reserved. You had always kept a wall around yourself ever since you were younger, sprouting at early ages due to things you had experienced and seen. You were twenty-four, a virgin, and a bit awkward at times.
Not at all Dean Winchester’s type.
But after meeting up with the Winchesters a few more times, you and Dean slowly became closer, until one night after a hunt, Dean had confessed his feelings for you. He was hesitant at first due to the ten year age difference, but your relationship had quickly blossomed. He was your first real relationship, the first person to ever be with you entirely, the first person to ever hold your heart.
Which is why you never told him about yourself.
Dean hated witches. It was a fact everyone knew. If you were to tell him that you were, in fact, a witch, he’d not only break up with you, but you were afraid he’d hunt you. Although you had never used your abilities for anything other than good, you weren’t entirely sure Dean would be able to trust you after you kept it from him for so long.
You were one of the most powerful witches in the world. Numerous covens have tried to recruit you, but you turned them all down. You were nomadic by nature, a free spirit, and you didn’t want to use your abilities to do someone else’s bidding. So you stuck to yourself. You kept off the radar and hoped your protective hex bags shield sigil tattoos worked. When Dean asked about the tattoos, you had simply told him they were more sigils for protection- like the anti possession tattoo. He believed you without a second thought.
“Okay, so now that we know what we’re dealing with,” Sam began. “We need to find out who. After doing some digging, I found that all of the victims attended the same addiction recovery group.”
“So you think the group is somehow linked to the murders?” Dean asked.
“It makes sense,” you said. “They all had this one thing in common. That’s what we always look for, right?”
“Right. There are only three people left in the group who have not been attacked. Since it’s a support group, anonymity is a requirement. But luckily for us, we have fake badges,” Sam said. “Marcus Wainwright, Brienne Tarly, and Astrid Waters are the only people who haven’t been attacked.”
You froze at Astrid’s name. You knew that name. She was the leader of a coven who tried to recruit you years ago. You turned them down because of the craft which they practiced.
“Who’s the leader of the group?” You asked.
“Uh…” Sam looked at the files. “Astrid.”
“I think it’s her,” you said. The brothers looked at you in question. You mentallykicked yourself. You said it before you could think. “She’s the leader, right?” You tried to cover yourself. “What if she used this group as a way to make sacrifices to whatever that shadow is?”
“That actually makes a lot of sense,” Sam said. “Carla, one of the victims I talked to today, said that Astrid would always try to get the group attendants to recruit more people. Apparently Astrid was always trying to bring more people into the group. Almost like she was obsessed with it.”
“She was trying to get more people to sacrifice,” Dean said.
“Exactly,” you said.
“Okay, let’s find this bitch.”
***
Astrid still lived in the same cottage as she did all those years ago when she tried to recruit you. Cobblestone walls covered in climbing ivy. Black shutters hung off the gothic windows. Various leafy plants grew around the sides of the house. The broken path led to a great wood door. The negative energy rolling off the house made you nauseous, and it took everything in you not to pass out.
You were only sixteen when you met Astrid, only just beginning to truly tap into your true potential when other witches began to feel your energy.
“You’re strong,” she had told you. “Stronger than me. You would be a valuable asset to any coven. A threat to witches below your strength. Others will want to harvest that power for themselves. We can keep you safe. I can keep you safe.”
You could feel her energy was dark. Her aura was an ominous black, a stark contrast from your pure white. You knew she was lying immediately. You threatened her. You were stronger than Astrid, and that pissed her off.
“I can fend for myself, thanks,” you had said.
Astrid had simply smirked at you, patting your hand gently. “We’ll see about that, my dear.”
You never thought you’d run across her again. You had hoped that you wouldn’t run into her again. Not only was she incredibly dangerous to you, but there was a high chance she would spill your secret, and you would not only lose Dean forever, but you would lose your life.
Swallowing back your fear, you trudged through the woods alongside the brothers. You knew you needed to do this. Innocent people were dying. If this was your last night on Earth, you wanted to be able to save them at least.
The three of you ducked below one of the windows. Dean peeked inside, trying his best to stay as hidden as possible.
“She’s in there,” he whispered. “She’s… at an altar. She’s chanting something.”
“Guess we found our witch,” Sam muttered. “Nice, Y/N.”
You gave him a weak smile.
Dean got up in front of the door, gun in hand. You and Sam waited for his call.
“Okay, on three,” he said.
“One… two…”
“Three!”
A new voice echoed around you, the door of the cottage violently swinging open, a gust of wind knocking Dean off his feet. Astrid’s cackle filled the air, and suddenly you began to feel woozy. Dean’s eyes fluttered shut, Sam falling down next to you. You knew it was Astrid, and you tried to fight it off, but soon succumbed to her power as well, your world going dark.
***
“How exciting!”
Head pounding, you awoke to the sound of a female’s voice. Trying to move, you soon found yourself unable to. Your eyelids felt heavy, and your limbs felt numb.
Opening your eyes, you found yourself staring up at the ceiling of the cottage. Astrid’s silver head was bent over you, bright emerald eyes staring into yours, a crooked, elated smile on her face.
“My oh my, I never thought the day would come,” she muttered to herself. A long nailed finger stroked your cheek, and you flinched away.
“Don’t touch her, you bitch!” You turned your head at the sound of Dean’s voice. You smiled weakly immediately at the sight of him, finding yourself incredibly tired.
You felt drained.
You tried to move your hands, finding them strapped to the table you were currently laid out on. Your flannel had been removed, as were your jeans, leaving you in only a tank top and panties. You shivered in the cool air. You hated being exposed like this in front of anyone that wasn’t Dean.
“What are you doing?” You asked weakly. “Let me go.”
Astrid laughed. “Please. You fall right into my hands and you think I’m going to let you go?” She asked. “You’re smarter than that, little fox.”
“Why are you doing this?” Sam asked. “Why did you kill all those people? Why did you sacrifice them?”
Astrid looked surprised. “Oh my, you’re a smart one, aren’t you?” She smiled at Sam, holding a mortar and pestle up over you. She crushed something inside, muttering a few incantations.
“The shadow makes me stronger. The more it's fed, the stronger I become,” Astrid said smoothly. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m a strong witch. Stronger than your average natural born, much stronger. However, there are only two people in the world who are stronger than me.”
Astrid gave you a pointed look.
“The shadow makes me stronger, as I said, but without the power of the other two witches, I will never be the strongest. If I were to siphon their energies from their souls, I would be the strongest witch there ever was and will ever be.”
“Pretty egotistical, eh there, granny?” Dean said. Astrid sneered at him.
“You’ll be the first one to die once I’m done with her, honey,” Astrid said.
“That is if I don’t kill you first, sweetheart.”
“If you only knew what I would be capable of,” Astrid snapped. “One witch has kept herself hidden. The Scottish bitch never can be found.”
“Rowena,” Sam said.
“Oh, you know her?” Astrid said. “Yes, Rowena. Now, the other witch. Well, I met her years ago. She was just a wee lass of sixteen at the time, but she was already so strong. I knew she was going to be a problem for me. I tried to recruit her to my coven, but she was smart. Too smart. I’ve been trying to track her down for years, and I’ve never been able to find her.”
Astrid let out a dreamy sigh. “And then, by the grace of God, she fell right into my hands.”
“If you’ve already killed her, why take the souls of innocents?” Dean asked.
Astrid scoffed. “Oh no, dear. I haven’t killed her yet.”
“Well what’s the hold up? One less witch to worry about. You’ll stop killing innocent people.”
Astrid laughed. She looked down at you. “No idea how you’ve been with the man as long as you did. If I heard that, I’d run for the hills. Or stab him in his sleep.”
“Don’t touch him,” you hissed. Astrid grinned.
“There’s that fire,” she said. She smeared the green paste she made over your chest. You let out a small cry as it burned your skin. She painted a pentacle on you, muttering more incantations.
“Unfortunately, to siphon all of a witch's power, the siphoner cannot kill the siphonee,” Astrid said. “Someone else has to do it after I prepare her, then I could siphon it.”
“Well let’s make you a deal,” Dean said. Your lip wobbled. “If I kill the bitch, letting you siphon her power, you will never kill another person.”
Astrid smiled wickedly. “Really?”
“Sure. One less witch and we save some people.”
Astrid laughed. “Oh that’s too good. I’ll make a blood vow. If I break it, I die.”
“Fine.” Dean nodded at her.
“Give me your word, hunter,” Astrid said.
“I give you my word.”
“That no matter what, you follow through,” Astrid continued.
Dean sighed. “Yeah, fine.”
“Dean,” you said softly. A tear leaked from your eye. “Please.”
He looked at you curiously. Astrid cut his bindings, letting him free.
“He’s not the brightest bulb, is he?” She asked you, laughing.
“Where do I find her?” Dean asked.
Astrid handed Dean a knife. It had a curled handle, various sigils carved into it. She stepped back, folding her arms over her chest.
“Go ahead.”
“You deaf?” Dean asked. “Where do I find the bitch?”
Astrid smirked, running her tongue over her lips.
“Right in front of you.”
The blood drained from Dean’s face. Tears streamed from your eyes now, leaking down your temples onto the wood beneath you. Astrid killing you was one thing. Dean killing you? There was nothing worse you could think of.
“Y/N?” He said. “No fucking way. She’s not a witch.”
“Isn’t she?” Astrid asked. “Go on, Y/N. Show us a little trick.”
You squeezed your eyes shut, wishing this was all a dream. Wishing that you would wake up and you’d be back at the bunker in Dean’s arms.
But when you opened your eyes, Dean still stood there, that curved knife in his hand, Astrid’s evil grin plastered on her face, a shocked Sam watching from his confinement on the wall.
“Fuck you,” you hissed.
“If you don’t show him-” she walked over to Sam, hand on his head- “I blow his brain apart.”
You took in a shaky breath, eyes focusing on the windows. Suddenly, your eyes glowed purple, and the windows shattered. The glass floated up into the air, spinning around and around, wind whipping everyone’s hair. It only lasted a few moments, and when the glass stopped spinning, a heart floated six feet off the ground. It slowly moved towards Dean, and once it reached him, you blinked, eyes going back to their normal E/C, the heart falling to the ground, glass shattering once more, mimicking your own heart.
Dean looked up at you in shock.
“You did that?”
“It’s her best party trick,” Astrid said. “Y/N here is an artist. Unless, of course, she’s blowing a werewolf to pieces with a simple flick of her wrist, or growing a thirty foot tree with the blink of an eye.”
“No,” Dean said lowly. “You lied to me.”
“I was afraid,” you said. “You hate witches. I thought you were going to kill me.”
“You fucking kept this giant ass secret from me!” He yelled. “You lied to me for years! All that time we’ve been together, you’ve been fucking
“Dean, please-”
“How do I know anything you said was true?”
“It all is! You know everything about me, Dean! I just never told you this!” You urged. “Please, Dean. You know me. You know I’m a good person.”
“I don’t know shit,” he hissed. “Have you ever killed anyone?”
“What?” You asked.
“Have you ever killed someone?” He snapped.
“No! I’ve never-”
“Eh, eh, eh,” Astrid said. “Don’t lie to the poor man anymore, Y/N.”
You let out a sob. “It was an accident.”
“An accident?” Astrid exclaimed. “Bursting a man into flames was an accident? Killing a father of four was an accident?”
“Yes!” You said. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know how to control myself, I-”
A sharp pain suddenly seared inside your head. You gasped, eyes squeezing shut.
“What are you doing?” Dean asked. Astrid grinned.
“Punishing her,” she answered calmly. You screamed as the pain became so intense, white flashed behind your eyes and your whole body went rigid.
“Stop!” Dean yelled.
The pain was gone instantly. You panted, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath, sweat mixing with your tears.
“Slit her wrists, Dean,” Astrid whispered. “You swore.”
Dean took the few steps he needed to be right next to you. He looked at the knife, then at your wrist, then at your face.
“Won’t she just heal herself?” He asked.
“Those cuffs around her wrists contain sigils that will prevent any self healing or harm to another person,” Astrid said. “It limits her power. It’s why she hasn’t broken out yet.”
Dean swallowed thickly. He looked at you, eyes searing deeply into your own. An anger burned behind the green you loved so much. It scared you. That anger had never been directed towards you before.
But there was something else as well. Despair. Dean was torn. You were a witch, a powerful one, and you had lied about it for years. On the other hand, Dean was in love with you. He loved you so much, it scared him.
“Do it,” Astrid said. “Do it, or I kill him.”
She was bent down beside Sam now, lips near his ear, eyes burning purple. Dean looked between you and his brother. You knew he’d never choose you over Sam.
“Do it,” you whispered. You nodded at him, giving him a soft smile. “It’s alright.”
“How can you say that?” Dean asked.
“I’ll find my way back to you someday,” you told him. “If not, I’ll simply wait for you.”
Dean bit his lip. “I wish you had told me.”
“I thought you were going to kill me,” you admitted. He shook his head, leaning against the table. He cupped your cheek, thumb wiping away a stray tear.
“Baby, you’re a good person,” he said. “Sure, I hate witches.”
You winced.
“But I could never hate you.”
You blinked a few times. “Even though I’m-”
He pressed his lips softly to yours. His eyes were misty, brows pulled together.
“I could never hate you,” he whispered against your lips.
“Do it, Dean!” Astrid urged. “You’ve got ten seconds.”
“Dean, don’t do it,” Sam said.
“It’s okay,” you whispered. “I’ll wait for you, my love.”
Dean shook his head.
“Five seconds,” Astrid warned.
“I love you, Dean. It’s okay,” you whispered.
Dean looked down at the knife in his hands. He caressed your wrist, bringing the knife down against your skin.
“Three seconds!”
He gave you one last look, moving the knife back-
“Two-”
He jerked the knife-
“One!”
You expected the sting of the blade, but only felt the release of the cuff.
“Man, you should have had some sort of spell on that shit,” Dean said. He smiled darkly at you, giving you a wink. Using your other hand, you flashed your eyes purple, burning the other cuff off.
“No!” Astrid yelled. “What have you done?”
With a simple flick of your wrist, Astrid was flung away from Sam. She crashed into the opposite wall. You slipped off the table, bare feet hitting the cold floor. A wind blew through the cottage, blowing your hair back from your face. You stalked towards her, all the while a smirk grew on your lips, your fingers tingling.
“I haven’t let myself go in so long,” you said. You lifted your hands, seeing the purple glow in your palms and beneath your fingertips. You cocked your head. “All this pent up energy…”
“Y/N-”
“It’s almost like snapping a rubber band,” you muttered.
“Y/N,” Dean said slowly.
Using a blast of power, you forced Astrid’s arms against the wall. Keeping them there, you raised her up until her feet dangled off the floor. You did the same to her ankles, the strain causing her skin to bruise immediately.
“Y/N, wait-”
You forced her head back, a sickening crunch resonating inside the cottage.
“So much power… can be dangerous,” Astrid gasped. Blood dribbled from her mouth and nose, pouring out of her eyes like tears. You forced more pressure upon her, crushing her further. “I was your mentor once… don’t let it consume you… keep your soul pure…”
You crushed her further, your brow raising slightly. You smiled wickedly at Astrid, a dark chuckle leaving your lips. “Rich coming from you,” you said.
“I let it consume me,” Astrid told you. “Don’t… follow in my footsteps.”
You hadn’t used your power like this in years, not since Astrid was your mentor. It sizzled in your veins and made you feel more rushed than ever. It was almost euphoric, the way your body burned with power, power that came from the Earth beneath your feet.
You missed that feeling.
What you didn’t miss, however, was the creeping feeling of darkness. It would intrude your thoughts and darken your mind. The risk of using that much power was the potential that it could consume you, and you would flip darkside.
Like Astrid did.
“See you in hell.”
Using once last surge of power, Astrid let out a guttural scream as her whole body turned an odd shade of red, eyes nearly popping from their sockets, blood streaming from any open source, before she stopped moving.
Letting your power retract, she slumped to the floor.
Dead.
You blinked, letting your eyes return to their natural colour, turning to face Dean.
“You gonna kill me now?” You asked.
Dean swallowed thickly, giving you a small smile.
“No.”
“Why not?” You said. “I’m a monster, right? You hate witches. I am witch. Pretty self explanatory.”
“I’m not going to kill you,” Dean said.
“You can’t pick and choose the monsters you kill and don’t kill,” you said. “You came here to kill a witch. I killed her, now it’s your turn.”
“I’m not going to kill you,” Dean repeated.
You gritted your teeth, sighing deeply. “Fine.”
You walked over to Sam, looking over your shoulder at Dean. With a simple flick of your wrist, Sam was released from his bindings.
“Do it, Sam.”
“Why?” He asked.
“I haven’t let myself go like that in a long time,” you said. “I forgot how tempting it is to give in. I want to do it, Dean. You need to kill me before I do.”
“No,” he said.
“Do it!” You yelled. “Do you really want me to flip? You want me to become like her?” You pointed to the woman you had just killed.
“You won’t,” Dean said. “You’re not like her.”
“Yes,” you whispered. A single tear slipped down your cheek. “I am. I killed that man when I was sixteen because I almost let it win. Who knows what else I could have done if I did.”
“Then we lock you up in the dungeon,” Dean said. “And we bring you back. But you’re good, Y/N. I know you better than anyone.”
Your lip wobbled.
“You still love me?” You murmured. “Even after finding out?”
Dean smiled warmly at you. He took your hands in his, massaging the backs of yours. “Sure, I was pissed you didn’t tell me. Still am, quite frankly. But you’re my girl,” he said. “I know you. I know the kind of person you are.”
“You hate witches,” you pointed out.
“Eh, maybe they’re not so bad,” Dean said, giving you a lopsided shrug. “I mean, I know this one witch. She’s pretty hot, really good in bed-”
“Dean!” You exclaimed, slapping his chest playfully. He laughed, kissing your forehead, bringing you into his chest.
“What can I say? What you did was pretty badass. Not my fault I’m into that.”
You shook your head. “Okay, big boy. If you’re not gonna kill me, let’s go home.”
Dean took a deep breath, leaning down to pick you up bridal style. You gasped, wrapping your arms around his neck to steady yourself.
“Come on, Sabrina,” he said. You gave him a bitch face, making Sam laugh.
“Really?” You asked.
“Oh, I’ve got more,” he said. “Do you have a pointy hat? Or a broomstick? Were you always this color, or were you born green?”
“Yeah, this is gonna be a long ride home,” Sam muttered.
Did you like it? What was your favorite part? Send me an ask with your thoughts! Feedback is loved and greatly appreciated:)
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#one shot#dean winchester x reader#dean x reader#supernatural#fanfiction#jensen ackles#waywardrose13#one-shot#fanfic#dean winchester fanfiction#spn#angst
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Fighting with the starters HCs (Genshin Impact)
Got into genshin impact real hard and actually have other happier headcanons written but they’re all unfinished except for these ones, so here! Although, what could be scarier than fighting with amber, kaeya, lisa??? I guess in a way it’s kind of fitting for halloween 😅 i am not 100% sure on characterisation but pls enjoy and thank u for reading!!
Amber, Kaeya, Lisa, gender-neutral reader (pretty vague, so you can imagine if they’re the traveller or not!), slight angst, ~1.1k words total
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Amber
Storms off pretty quickly once she’s got the last word - if you stormed off before her, that would’ve hurt Amber all the more but it hurts either way
She takes up more missions and patrols, almost throwing herself into them to distract herself. The other knights notice and Jean makes it a subtle point to make sure she’s given low-danger tasks until she’s cooled off
During fights with hilichurls, Amber can’t help but let out her pent-up frustration as if the hilichurls could understand why the flying bunny knight is more aggressive and loud than usual. She kind of, sort of, completely takes her anger out on them and their camps
Hilichurls: ya!
Amber: why do you-- *kick* --have to be *duck* so stubborn? *punch* you’re the one being completely unfair! *arrow shot*
Hilichurl: ya?
Kaeya might want to steer clear - not only cause Amber’s ready to chew him out of his suspicious activity, but she’s not going to be having his witty ways regardless and even an innocent mention of you is enough to get her glaring at him (and even Kaeya recognises that there’s more heat than usual in this glare)
Privately she cuddles Baron Bunny more than usual, pouting and fighting back tears because she hates hates hates this!!! But Amber’s stubborn and if she thinks she’s right, then she’s going to believe in herself (even though she’s not sure how long she can keep this up)
If it turns out she was wrong, there is no end to her moping--until she quickly resolves to fix this because she’s not going to let anything like this come between you and her again!
She practically hunts you down wherever you are (provided you’ve stayed in Mondstadt--if not, Amber’s back to moping and pretending she’s not moping until Jean sends out Kaeya to bring you back somehow) and has a whole speech ready and the moment she sees you--
Amber starts crying, even though she’s not meant to cry damnit!!! Her apology comes through a blubber of tears and poorly-suppressed sobs but it’s clear what she’s trying to say and you’re going to have to be a monster to not accept it, or at least consider it and hug her whilst she composes herself
Amber spends a lot of time afterwards making up for it and promises to never fight with you again (which is a little hopeful but she’s got all the confidence in you two that she believes it wholeheartedly)
Everyone in Mondstadt gets a little happier seeing their outrider once again holding hands with her partner and smiling
(Kaeya and Lisa under the cut!)
Kaeya
Is quite infuriating in the moment
Kaeya doesn’t mean to instigate and stoke the flames more (ironic, considering he’s a cryo user) but since he’s so sure of himself, he doesn’t like what you’re saying and how you can’t seem to see his side
It really doesn’t help that his personality is just like that; for once, you find yourself hating his witty remarks and retorts, rather than laughing at them and you wonder if this is how Kaeya’s enemies/rivals feel
Even more absent than usual in the time you’re apart, to the point even Jean notices. He doesn’t mean to make himself hard to find, but naturally finds himself gravitating towards his own secret spots and unconsciously avoiding all the taverns and usual hangouts he frequents because they’re all places he’s been with you
If you and Kaeya happen to run into each other during this time, which is unlikely because Kaeya keeps himself informed to avoid that, it’s an awkward interaction--which is to say it’s hardly an interaction at all; you barely talk to him and he also seems to act like you’re hardly even there, if there are other people present
If the fight is long enough, even Diluc finds himself involved - not that he’d admit it, but he’s informed of the minute you two make-up, unconsciously letting out a mental sigh of relief (he’d never show that much concern… but he feels it nonetheless)
If it’s Kaeya that’s wrong, he kind of laughs a little self-deprecatingly, wondering how he’d let that slip past him and then immediately wondering how he’ll make it up to you
He doesn’t rush into it though; he finds out whether you’re still smarting from the fight or would be more open to an apology. He’d wait if you weren’t, but if it took too long he’ll swagger right back into your life (not that he ever really left) with a genuine apology and a really hopeful smile that’s not very Kaeya like at all--it’s a little fragile and desperate, without that full Kaeya confidence because he’s not sure what he’ll do if you don’t accept it but the absolute and utter relief he gets when all is forgiven and well is worth all the alcohol in all the taverns of Mondstadt
Lisa
She becomes quite icy (much like a cryo slime), especially if she’s sure she’s right--and more often than not, she is because Lisa is both intelligent and composed enough to see the bigger picture
She doesn’t let herself go in the heat of the moment, becoming quieter if you do, but no less firm and stone-cold with her tone; doesn’t see the point in escalating it because she knows she must maintain her composure but the air seems to get heavier with electricity and the sparks in her eyes might not be entirely imagined…
During the time apart, she seems more distant and a lot of the others can tell. She seems to laze about more because of this but also hunts down books overdue by even only a day and though she doesn’t take it out on those poor unsuspecting citizens, she’s more adamant than usual about deadlines
Offered to take out a hilichurl camp when it came up in a meeting and pretty much everyone there was surprised--the Lisa offering to do such a high-effort mission??? But when it’s given to her, passerbys later stare in awe at the pure destruction left at the camp
If you two see each other during this time, the atmosphere is very clearly tense to those who know you two - and even those who don’t. Lisa calls you cutie and honey and dear still but the words are forced out, with venom and you almost tell her to just call you by your name because of it
If she finds out she’s wrong, there’s no end to the twisting gut guilt until she finds you and apologises - she can accept when she’s wrong, especially if it means ending this fight with her cutie
Apologies are more subtle with her, but no less genuine; it has all the heart in her soft spoken explanation and her promise to be more attentive so that this doesn’t happen again, her hopeful, apologetic smile so sad and desperate. She hates the twisting gut feeling even when she is right and it was you in the wrong and regardless, absolutely loathes fighting so will make sure it does not happen again by remembering the warning signs
It’s a learning experience for the both of you, but one Lisa does not want to repeat
A lazy morning just isn’t the same with her cutie
#genshin impact#genshin impact amber#genshin impact kaeya#genshin impact lisa#kaeya x reader#amber x reader#lisa x reader#genshin impact imagines#genshin impact headcanons#genshin impact amber x reader#genshin impact lisa x reader#genshin impact kaeya x reader#kaeya ragnvindr#amber#lisa#my writing#writing#my work
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Mutual Feelings
Jeon Jungkook x Reader
Summary: Jungkook is nervous because you haven’t told him you love him; you have an important question for him.
Genre: fluff
Notes: Part of the Long Term Couples series. Read more here
If, last year, someone had asked Jungkook if he was cool with being in a relationship with someone who seemed physically resistant to saying the words ‘I love you’ in a meaningful way, he would have said absolutely not. Jungkook’s a patient man, but even he has limits. He likes to feel solid in his relationships, likes to not have any questions left on the table. He thinks he’s an open book, and he likes his partners to be the same way.
When he let those three words slip out not even a month into your relationship, he had mentally kicked himself. He had thought it was too soon, but he was trying to reassure you and they had tumbled out of his fat mouth before he could stop them. As it turned out, he hadn’t stopped saying them since.
You, on the other hand, had somehow gone from the cheerful ‘I love you’s whispered between friends to not saying it at all, not even after he had said it, and not ever since. He had grown so used to them during your six years of friendship that going six months without felt a little empty.
You weren’t ready. It was a big step for you, and he understood. He just wished he knew if there was any way for him to help you want to take that step. That, coupled with the fact that intimacy beyond kissing was off the table meant that Jungkook was more unsure in this relationship than he had ever been before.
This was all so new. He’d had girlfriends in the past, but in the years of knowing you, he’d never heard you talk about anyone significant in your life. He wasn’t sure if you’d never dated anyone, or if you’d never dated anyone that mattered, but at this point, he wasn’t sure that was important. Your friendship meant the world to him–you meant the world to him–and he was just so worried about losing that.
So he was second guessing himself constantly. Was he wrong to tell you he loved you so soon? Did he make a mistake in assuming you would want to see him both at work and at home every day? Had he been too forward when he drunkenly asked you out? Not forward enough the next day when you confronted him about it? Did he make enough time for you? Was he letting you know how he felt often enough, or was he smothering you?
Jungkook had thought that he had known you so well back when you were still just friends, but now… he had trouble reading you. He supposed that it was because you wouldn’t outright tell him how you felt.
Although, it wasn’t like you didn’t love him. Hearing the words would be nice, but the fact that you didn’t say them didn’t mean you didn’t feel them. And Jungkook definitely felt loved.
He felt it when he pushed himself too hard at rehearsals and performances. Not only were you there to take care of him, you scolded him for not taking care of himself. He knew you appreciated his work ethic and dedication, but the fact that you could hold an ice pack to his neck, pet his hair, and yell at him all at the same time honestly made his heart swell.
And he felt it when he screwed up his heel in London. You were there, distracting him from the pain before the concert, and helping pick him up when it was over. He had been devastated to not be able to perform, to be confined to a chair on stage, but having you dote on him afterwards almost made it better. And while you weren’t dating at the time, Jungkook knew that you wouldn’t hesitate to do the same thing again, since every time there was even the threat of an injury, you were at his side.
It was there when he had showed up on your doorstep with a dog and you had just gone with it. He had rightfully expected some pushback, but he hadn’t quite expected just how quickly you had agreed. He prepared a speech! He had rehearsed that speech the whole way from the pet store to your apartment! But he loved that you trusted him enough to take in his dog, he loved that you were comfortable enough around him to be spontaneous like that, and he loved that, even in just the couple weeks that you had Kimchi, you had fallen in love with the puppy. He may have paid the adoption fees, but you both knew that Kimchi had quickly become your dog.
He felt it when you jumped to defend him, like his own personal knight in shining armor, fighting for his honor. It didn’t matter if it was something you saw on Twitter, one of the other guys, or even himself–you got heated about it all the same. You had a secret account on almost every social platform just to yell at people on his behalf. You would playfully scold the guys when their teasing got a little too intense. And you always stopped him when he got too down on himself. In fact, you had been the one to first introduce him to the “you shouldn’t be mean to my best friend” rebuke.
He even felt it in how fiercely competitive you could be. Jungkook loved that you could go from defending him in one breath to threatening to smother him in his sleep in the next. He had gotten you into Overwatch, and he had expanded his gaming repertoire based on your tastes, and honestly he was never happier than he was curled up in bed playing video games with you, and at this point, he was convinced that you felt the same.
It was there in the late night texts you sent him when the two of you spent the night apart, and in the early morning phone calls he received the following morning. It didn’t matter if the two of you were in different timezones, you always texted him goodnight. And while he might not always be awake enough to respond, he had started looking forward to those short messages. And then the next morning, he was always happy to answer the phone when you called, even if you woke him up with the call. There was something about your cheerful ‘good morning!,’ especially if he knew it was three in the afternoon for you.
So while he definitely would prefer to hear you say it, Jungkook supposed that he could wait a little longer, because your actions spoke louder than any words.
He thought about this as he worked, the task of washing that night’s dinner dishes mindless enough that he could safely let his mind wander without risking too much. You, too, were in your own little world, drying the dishes and bopping around to the music blasting out of the little bluetooth speaker you kept in your kitchen.
Dinner had been tense that night. Not because anything was particularly wrong–or, at least, Jungkook didn’t know of anything that was wrong–just because you seemed incredibly nervous, and he wasn’t sure why. But the entire time you helped him cook and while the two of you were sitting in front of the tv watching YouTube videos and eating, he could feel the nervous energy rolling off you. He wanted to ask, but every time it crossed his mind, it didn’t seem like a good time.
The song changed, Jungkook smiled at the opening notes to “My Time” wafting out of the speaker. He loved that you loved his music. You grabbed the wet skillet off the counter as you started to hum along, and he watched you out of the corner of his eye. Once it was dry, you placed the skillet on your stove–you used it for everything, so he supposed you never saw the need to properly put it away.
You continued to hum as he let the water out of the sink, the dishes finally complete. With a sigh, you tossed your towel down on the counter and leaned against the cabinets below, watching him rinse the last of the bubbles down the drain.
“So I’ve been thinking.” Jungkook noted the hint of nerves in your voice. “And, I mean, you’re totally allowed to say no to this, I just figured I’d ask-”
“Babe. Breathe,” he joked, flicking some water off his hands in your direction. You giggled, leaning away slightly from his attack. He placed a hand on your hip, tugging slightly and pulling you closer. His other arm snaked around your waist as soon as you were close enough, holding you loosely against his body.
“I was wondering,” you started again, placing your hands on his chest and playing with the soft fabric of his t-shirt. “If maybe you wanted to move in?”
Jungkook could feel his heart start to pound in his chest. He was sure that you could feel it, being as close as you were. Was this what you were nervous about earlier?
“I mean, you’re over here most of the time, anyway. And Kimchi’s here.” You glanced at the brown and tan dog napping under your breakfast nook. “I know the dorm’s convenient, so if you want to leave some stuff there, that’s fine. But I wanted to offer.”
He couldn’t help the goofy smile spreading across his face. Honestly, Jungkook hadn’t expected your relationship to move this far this quickly. But he wasn’t complaining. At this point, a good majority of his clothes were at your apartment–he still had the bag tucked into your closet, but he had also lost count of the number of hoodies and sweatpants and t-shirts he had left here that he just hadn’t bothered to take back to the dorm. His laptop was here, his PS4 was here, his dog was here, you were here, and really, that’s all he needed.
“Sure.” He nodded, his eyes meeting yours. You looked happy, which only made his smile grow. He could feel his face start to heat up, and for a second, he felt like a teenager again, confronted by his noona crush. It was weird–and a little fitting considering the song that was still playing–for him to realize that he had never had that experience in school. “I would like that a lot.”
“Yeah?” Jungkook nodded, his hand covering yours on his chest. “We’re going to need new furniture.” Your eyes sparkled as you said it, and he couldn’t tell if you were joking.
“Please tell me you didn’t just ask me to move in so you had an excuse to get a new couch.”
You hummed, one of your hands tangling in the long hair at the back of his neck. You smiled at him–it was innocent enough, but he could see mischief in it, too. “Not at all.” Your lips brushed against his softly. “But if we could celebrate the occasion with a new couch, who am I to argue?”
Jungkook laughed and buried his face in the crook of your neck. He felt it then, too, standing there in your kitchen, your arms wrapped tightly around him. You didn’t need to say it, not yet at least. He knew.
You loved him. And the feeling was absolutely mutual.
Read more of the series here
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Forsaken Scholar and Beholding Sailor
Written for @lonelyeyesweek
Day 6 - Entity Swap
One of them spends most of the year travelling all around the world seeing all its wonders. The other one stays locked in the Institute. It is not that hard to guess which one of them serves to the Eye and which one serves the Lonely…
Read on AO3
…
Peter Lukas loves traveling around the world with his ship. What could be better and more fitting for a servant of the Eye than to sail through the seas as he pleases, discovering all the hidden secrets of the most forgotten places on the Earth, gaining forgotten Knowledge and Seeing all the wonders the world has to offer with his own Eyes. And the most importantly of course – also feeding his patron with different flavours of the worries, fears and traumas people are experiencing in the different countries.
As amazing as it is to cross over the ocean all the way there and back, one of his favourite places is still the city of London. It is not because the sight of the city would be that amazing or wonderful – far from it. However it is one of the most monitored cities in the world and how could the soul of a Beholder not appreciate that? Knowledge that he cannot even cross a street without dozens of cameras – from ATM, from nearby stores, the traffic ones– turning its Eye on him, it's truly delightful!
It is strange though how he chose from all the places to build his Institute here as well. True, in two hundred years London certainly changed a lot but it was hardly quiet, peaceful or abandoned back then. As always Peter is curious about his intention and as always he sees it as one more reason to not to tell him anything.
Whistling he approaches the Magnus Institute – quite a big building in the middle of the city – which you could somehow still easily miss if you did not know exactly where to look for it. He opens the door with an elbow as both his hands are preoccupied carrying a big box containing few things he picked up on his travels.
Peter never felt the particular need to hoard the artefacts. He is the servant of the Eye. The point is therefore to See to witness everything with his own Eyes. There is no need for that. Though lately he always makes sure to grab a few interesting or possibly cursed objects. It would be rude to show up after such a long time without appropriate gifts.
“Hello, I am here to see my husband!” he announces loudly to the receptionist. She winces and looks around in fear that someone will blame her for such a loud visitor. As always there is still no one around.
“I… uhm… who?” she hesitantly turns back at Peter who is cheerfully smiling.
“You know, James-… no, I think it is Elias now… Elias Butcher? Boucher? Budget? I don’t know why he always has to pick the worst names.”
“Uh… do you mean… Elias Bouchard?”
“Yes! That sounds about right… even though… are you sure it is not Butcher?” Peter grins while the woman on the reception desk continues staring at him in disbelief.
“I didn’t know Mr Bouchard is married.”
“Oh, you didn’t? That is very unfortunate for you then. He hates when people know too much about him.”
“What you mean by it… uh… I- I will announce to you…”
“It is alright! I will find my way. See you around.”
Peter winks at her since his hands are still full and whistling again he turns around leaving a mildly confused, mildly terrified woman behind.
The Institute is a maze. Full of corridors leading in the same direction and full of others leading to dead ends. Full of offices which seemed way too big for just one person but too small to fit there two. Full of empty rooms or doors with no room behind them. One could easily get lost there. Even a basic task might take hours considering how far away all seems all the basic utilities form each other.
What luck that Peter Knows the way very well and in a couple of minutes through a few shortcuts he stands in front of the door leading to the office of the Head of the institute. Or at least he thinks these are the doors… They all look exactly the same and of course that there is no sign, no plate with name trying to give any guest any sense of space.
He kicks in the door a few times and when he hears nothing he tries to open it again with his elbows. To his surprise the door is not even locked!
“Hello Jonah!” Peter cheerfully greets the man who is frowning at some documents on his desk. On the first look he seemed to be the least remarkable person that ever lived – he is of rather small posture, dressed in a boring grey suit matching the colour of his eyes and hair that lost the bright ginger colour quite some time ago. But one cannot always trust the first impression as he also appears to be in his forties and claims to be named Elias Bouchard.
From all the people Peter ever met, Jonah Magnus is the most fascinating and charming one. It has taken Peter a while to get through his dull and cold demeanour but once he has he could no longer unsee his sharp wits and occasionally even a bit nicer and sweeter side.
“You are here already? Haven’t you left like yesterday?” Jonah does not even look up and Peter cannot help himself but smile over the familiarity of his act.
“It has been three whole months! Have you not missed me, oh fog around my lighthouse, cliffs around my port, barnacle-”
“No for a fact I was very happy without you and your ridiculous names of endorsement,” he sighs dramatically but corners of his mouth twitch a bit upwards.
“I did miss you. I was writing you that on the postcards.”
“Yes I know. I could not miss the overflowing mailbox. Once again I beg you not to send me anymore of them. I don’t even know where to put them…”
“Have you not say the last time you are throwing them all away?” It is always cute to see Jonah’s pale skin to colour with blush.
“Yes! Yes I am. That is what I meant. My bin is overflowing with them.”
“Feel free to throw them away, I will send you new ones!”
“That is exactly what I beg you not to do!”
Peter decides not to tease Jonah any longer; he is starting to look a bit exasperated and he knows better than to push his buttons too much. One time when Peter crossed the limit of Jonah’s tolerance, the servant of the Lonely filled the office with fog. It took the servant of the Eye a few minutes to get out and when he did he found himself in front of the Institute with doors locked. He would rather not repeat that. And so to offer peace Peter finally puts the box down on the desk. By the sound it makes it is clear that it is much heavier that one might guess by the ease with which the sailor has carried it.
“I am bringing you gifts!”
Jonah looks unimpressed. “I am not interested. Please could you find some other place to throw all your useless crap in than my institute?”
“I thought your institute is supposed to research the supernatural? I am bringing you cursed and priceless artefacts to study and all I ask in return is your love. Should you not be more grateful?”
“First of all your price is too high. Plus I have plenty of things to study for decades since you must bring me something every time…”
Saying that the institute’s approach to supernatural research is specific or interesting would be an understatement. As far as Peter knows Jonah Magnus started the Institute way back in 1818 shortly after learning about the Fears. Jonah pretended he was only interested in studying the supernatural even though he already had a scheme in mind regarding how to serve his chosen patron. He decided to lure in scholars with the promise of achieving great discoveries. Then he made sure to make their life just a lonely misery with them sacrificing their life in pointless study isolated from society.
Peter also knows Jonah was somehow acquainted with his ancestor Mordechai Lukas, who decided to sponsor his project in exchange of sharing all the knowledge and discoveries the institute will create as a byproduct of making scholars lonely. The deal lasts till now and that is how he and Jonah met at first… But that is all Peter knows about his past as Jonah is not usually very talkative concerning his past.
Forsaken has granted him a long and lonely life to serve its cause. Though lately Peter is doing his best to sometimes interrupt the lonely part of it… He changes name from time to time for legal reasons. Not that it is even necessary as no one ever looks into the institute and its matters way too closely. And if someone really even notices its existence and starts asking way too many questions it usually only leads to their mysterious disappearance.
“You can always hire more people to sort it out? I sometimes doubt you really have any employees at all. I rarely run into anyone…”
“That is exactly the point. I do not really want to risk they could meet. Now regarding your gift…”
“Ah well as much as it pains me if you do not truly want it…” Peter put on a theatrical look of tragedy and grabs the box again. Jonah raises his hand to stop him. Their fingers brush and he is as cold as ever.
“It is fine… since you have already brought it here. Just put it in the artefact storage on your way out. Someone will get to it eventually.”
Peter lets go of the box again rather grabbing Jonah’s hands into his leaning closer over the desk. Jonah is still doing his best to look unbothered but when Peter kisses his hands he cannot help himself but smile over the silly behaviour of his partner.
“We can always get a divorce if you despise my affection so much, my beloved husband.” Peter gently strokes the golden ring on Jonah’s finger.
“No need. Time spent together with you is so short when you live as long as I do that it hardly matters anyway.”
“It hardly matters to you. It still matters to me, my dear Jonah.”
“I could not care less, Peter,” Jonah grabs his collar and finally pulls him into a kiss.
#Their alligment might have changed but their relantionship is very similiar#Fear Entity Alignment Swap#tma#magnus archives fan#magnus archives fanfic#peter lukas#elias bouchard#jonah magnus#lonelyeyes#lonely eyes#lonelyeyesweek#lonelyeyesweek2021#mEye fanfic#mEye post
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How would the DMC brothers (+ V) be with a full demon S/O?
Dante
Demons can have human emotions, Dante knows that better than anyone, he's seen it happen more than once; like devils crying. Demons can learn to love and feel what humans feel, so why should you be any different? Human or not to him it doesn't matter, if he loves you then he loves you and that's it.
But that's not saying that he doesn't find having a demon partner not cool or anything though, the complete opposite of that! It's badass having someone more closer to his level at his side, and deep down it takes away a lot of the stress of having to keep looking over his shoulder to always make sure that a human partner would be safe. With you being a demon and fighting to protect yourself is in your blood, he has nothing to worry about (but still Dante being Dante there's always a tiny bit of worry he keeps hidden away)
He is absolutely blown away at the sight of your devil trigger! His exact word being:
"God damn, baby! And you said my trigger had a great ass?!"
Your sudden clawed hand across his jaw, which in your human form would barely hurt him for a few seconds, stung him for days.
When the rare occasion when no one else is around the shop and customers are guaranteed not to show up during the day Dante lets a bit of his inner demon out and does what normal demon mates do: nesting. Now his bed is not that big, sure it can fit two average human sized people but it struggles to fit two devils. So the two of you, both in trigger (him preferably for your comfort not Sin Trigger) will both squeeze together as comfortably as the two of you can get in bed and just...pet each other. Yeah. It's very common for demon mates to groom each other, not like cats and lick each other (but I mean that's another choice if you want, I'm not judging 👀) but just run your crawled hands up each other and just...take each other in, basically how demons cuddle by feeling each other's power and stuff, it's quite comforting actually.
There have been most definitely instances where the two of you have both been stabbed by the same sword or something
With your demonic blood being more on par with his, Dante can have more of all balls out training sessions, not on the same level as those with Vergil but more than he normally can do with Nero, Lady, or any other more human-like training partners. Training sessions with you are more like those with Trish and Lucia, other demons, and depending on how strong you are possibly even further than that with both of you scrapping and slicing away at each other in the strongest versions of your DT.
Fights are the number one way for demons to calm themselves. So after your (very violent, but somehow friendly and maybe a little flirty?) spars the two of you will faze back into your human forms and flop on the ground (usually the rooftop of Devil May Cry) and lay in each other's arms complementing moves each other did, heads finding their way into chests and hands brushing at whatever previous that were already healed with healing factor before finding yourselves passionately at each other's lips with all the time in the world seemingly meaningless as the two of you lose yourselves for the rest of the night.
Vergil
Vergil is always one who is attracted by strength whether it be physical or mental, so it's no surprise that he would eventually find himself interested in being with a demon partner, he always did find humans to be more complicated anyway.
Like with Dante, Vergil is quite relieved with your instinctive ability to protect yourself so he doesn't have to keep watch over you 24/7, you're perfectly strong to fend for yourself and he 100% respects that.
Of course, given that have demonic power he's going to want to spar with you, that most of his idea of a 'date' anyway knowing him, and you often don't mind given the natural spark that goes through your blood when it comes to a fight. Vergil isn't the one to be mostly focused on looks, although yes he will admit you are very beautiful with your appearance as well, but he finds strength even more beautiful so it's not a surprise that he finds your trigger to be one of the most beautiful things on earth. The very first few spars you had went on for countless hours just because he desperately wanted to learn everything you could do with it and the two of you got some pretty decent bonding out of it as well.
Oh course the whole thing with Mundus is a pretty touchy subject, especially post 5 after him finally in his true and restored self after the whole Nelo Angelo experience and everything that followed it, and with demon having extremely long lifespans the conversation, even before the two of you get together, of where your alliance was is going to come up at some point. Given your status of working alongside Dante and the others at Devil May Cry, the answer should be obvious but to Vergil it means quite a lot to him given that a complete demon such as yourself would be working alongside a bunch of hybrids and humans to defend humanity and defy your master (your master who’d tortured him for decades), just like his father did. He’s heard Trish’s story from bits and pieces she told him as V and the rest Dante shared with him, but your unknown story deeply intrigues him and when you do get around to telling it and how you were hunted down and almost killed hundreds of times for your betrayal for many years I’d like to say that was the point that he truly started to feel a little small something for you.
He also likes watching when you square off against Dante. Since and his brother have much drastic differences in fighting styles and that it makes sense that you if you’re able to properly stand a match against one brother that you’d be able to fight with the other, so he likes watching how differently that you fight against his brother and even takes notice of you pulling off very different things he would’ve never though of doing against him and you even see him doing new moves similar to yours the next time you see the twins fight.
Vergil has always found human emotions...hard to deal with. So on days he’s feeling frustrated, whether it be because of his brother or his attempts to get connected with Nero being unsuccessful, he likes spending time with you in devil trigger either sparring to just being near one another to let his demon calm himself down.
V
V, like Vergil, finds strength really attractive. So what if you're a demon? To him that matters very little, not too long after the two of you have met has he already found two of Blake's works that you remind him of (You're a fucking dork, V)
Normally demons he has seen and personally been put up against always seem to fight with this feral clumsiness that has no sense of class to it, you on the other hand seem to fight with all the grace in the world with your devil trigger. V feels taken aback and mesmerized everytime he sees it, how you seem to float effortlessly through air like a leaf in the wind as you dodge and repel every attack sent your way. In these little dazes, it's usually Griffon that has to snap him out of it with a very loud: "Okay! Time to wake up Romeo!" That usually almost makes V lose the grip on his cane and fall before Shadow had to rush over and help him not tip over. Whenever this happens V always gets an interesting shade of pink on his face after he's really taken a moment to realize his fawning over you.
Speaking of his familiars, they sure love being around you! Because their master is in head over heels for you? Eh, partly, but most importantly it's because whenever they're around you they get a power boost off your demon energy, which may be because of the type of demon you are, or it just comes from your emotional bond with V, your choice. So expect most times when Griffon and Shadow are out of their tattoos they swarm over to you and cuddle on over next to you, with Griffon sitting in your lap, Shadow laying up against your leg making the occasional biscuit motion on your thigh, and if V has made his place leaning against your side as he reads his book you might hear the occasional pleased sounding rumble of Nightmare from his hair.
V would never keep secrets from his s/o, human or not, I feel that he would tell you ahead of time during 5 what's going to eventually happen to him and with you being a demon and understanding this more than any human would and I feel like that would be an even more sense of comfort and a little less to worry about and the two of you could just focus on the time that's left.
V is fairly fragile, even in human standards, his body can’t take much making him rely mostly on his familiars to do physically hard tasks for him. So with you being a demon that means you’re without a doubt stronger than him meaning not only can you save his ass in moments that not even his contacted demons can help him that much but also you’re going to have to watch your own strength and make sure you don’t accidentally hurt him doing something like holding too tightly on his hand or something.
Like I said before, V is absolutely entranced by the form of your devil trigger and he likes you in the late hours of the night trigger so he can mindlessly trace the rough or soft feeling of your triggered skin as he finally is able to let himself drift off to sleep.
If you like what you read please consider reblogging! It means the world for writers and artists!
#devil may cry#devil may cry x reader#dante x reader#vergil x reader#v x reader#mine#dante sparda#vergil sparda#v dmc
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Season 2 of DSMP as a wonder tale
So I’ve read Morphology of the Tale and Historical Roots of the Wonder Tale by Propp and thought, hey, why not analyse DSMP S2 as one would analyse a wonder tale based on the theories of this author? The results are under the cut.
Disclaimer: Read this through an ironic lens. I know that season 2 was (probably) not intended to be a wonder tale. However, connecting dots which weren’t meant to be connected is my passion.
1. THE BEGINNING
The tale begins with the introduction of the hero (Tommy) and his home (L’manburg and its’ inhabitants). Tommy goes out (a function of absentation, he leaves his home) and goes against an interdiction, a rule of. Uh. Not burning other people’s houses. Which, coincidentally, is exactly what the villain lurking in the shadows, Dream, needs. Dream applies trickery with the purpose of kidnapping Tommy. What happens is, quote, “He [the villain] demands or lures out his victim. Sometimes this form is a consequence of a deceptive contract.” As we all remember, the contract is exactly what took place.
This leads to Dream taking Tommy with him, or a departure.
2. THE EXILE
Here we have to talk a bit about Historical Roots.
Propp suggests that the root of such a tale lies in the ritual of initiation, which in itself is based on the idea that the initiated goes through death, being in the world of the dead and returning, resurrecting, being born anew. Such rituals were practiced in secret, children were taken to a small hut, usually in the woods, and had to go through some trials, sometimes purely ceremonial, sometimes actually quite cruel, to make them believe that they are going through death. After such a ritual they were meant to become adults and receive some kind of magic powers, usually connected to the powers of talking/luring/becoming like the animals.
In fairytales it is represented by the hero encountering some kind of a small structure and meeting a character, a donor, who puts the hero through some kind of a trial (sometimes just giving them a question and waiting for the correct answer) and, after that, giving the hero a magical object/entity/ability, the helper. But, as the rituals became more and more obsolete, people’s opinions of them started to change, they stopped seeing them as necessary, as good. Thus the witch in the hut becomes stricktly evil, a hostile donor, the trial with fire - burning in the stove, and the children are meant to escape and punish her.
With all that said, let’s look at the exile and its attributes.
1) Dream takes Tommy on a long journey by water. Only Ghostbur, a dead man, can come with him. It is obviously meant to represent that Tommy starts crossing the line between the world of the dead and the living. The forest is replaced by an ocean, not an unusual occurance in tales.
2) They settle on a shore. Tommy is not completely in the land of the dead yet - he is at the entrance. Dream only guards this land.
3) As the first order of business, Dream builds a small dirt hut. Nuff said.
4) Dream tortures Tommy, positioning himself as a hostile donor who wants to destroy the hero. So far Dream played both the role of The Villain and The (hostile) Donor (guardian of the land of the dead), which, while unusual in the actual fairytales, is possible.
5) Dream wears a mask. Clear indication of this being picked up from a ritual.
6) Dream turns into a woman (mamacita). While it is a weird episode, with the help of The Historical Roots it is easy to explain - sometimes men who performed the ritual dressed as women.
7) Tommy goes through temporary insanity (doubting if he sees Tubbo or not) - another aspect of this stage sometimes seen in tales, connected to the mental distress children went through because of the violence and/or drugs during the ritual.
8) Dream gifts him a trident. Sadly, only temporarily. It would’ve been a perfect fit if Tommy kept it - a magic method of flying, something a donor like Dream gifts/is stolen from very often in tales.
9) Tommy “dies”. At the end of the exile Tommy actually performs a ritual, metaphorical death by jumping of off the pillar into the water. It is worthy to note that everyone thinks he is actually dead after that, which we will see come into play later.
10) Tommy leaves dirty, in rags. Usually it happens when a character returns to the land of the living, but here it can be considered as a metaphor of learning how to turn into an animal and escape Dream via such means. Quote: “In a tale, it is hard to distinguish between a dirty and an animal-like character.” Tommy, of course, calls himself a racoon. It is possible to assume that Dream somehow gave him this ability unknowingly, by giving him/making him wear dirty clothes, although there is no proof of this in the text.
11) Tommy has difficulty talking about the exile. A hero not being able to talk, especially about what happened in the magical forest, is a common occurance in tales, connected to the secrecy of the rituals.
12) Dream chases Tommy. Not immediately, but there definetely is an element of the chase. Usually this trope happens closer to the end of the tale, but it is possible to see it this early too.
3. TECHNOBLADE
We turn our gaze to Historical Roots again. Besides the witch’s hut, there is another structure a hero can see in the woods - a big house. Its attributes are usually: large size, riches/a lot of food inside, no one is home at the moment, is inhabited by men (usually several who are like brothers to each other), a secret basement.
Propp explains this as reminiscent of men’s houses, somewhere where men usually lived as brothers after the ritual described above. They were still in this forbidden territory, not quite “alive”, only doing hunting. The newcomers were to serve the rest of men at first.
Now let’s look at the encounter.
1) Tommy finds Techno’s house empty. Inside, he sees riches, particularly food. He proceeds to hide there.
2) Tommy finds golden apples and golden blocks. Gold always indicates things from the beyond, and sometimes it indicates the object the hero searches for.
3) Technoblade is half-man half-pig. Being an animal/having animalistic traits is very common for all inhabitants of the land of the dead, the owners of the big house included (in some tales they are bears, for example).
4) Technoblade finds Tommy and asks to serve him for a certain amount of time. A classic trope, where Techno is clearly The Donor asking for a favor in return to which the hero should get The Helper.
5) After Tommy agrees, Techno shows him the secret basement. In tales, the basement usually contains one or both of these things: a magical object (The Helper) and dead, dismembered bodies (think Bluebeard). In our case, it’s both: the magic armour which Tommy shortly gets and the skulls. The skulls are, of course, of the people Techno’s killed, and, since he big house’s inhabitants in certain cases can be associated with cannibalism (and since Techno is a pig, a gluttonous animal), he’s probably eaten his victims as well. That’s why Tommy is so horrified when he sees them.
6) Techno hides Tommy from Dream chasing him. In this case he takes on the role of the Helper. We can also make an assumption that he grants Tommy invisibility (another very common fairytale gift). Now, was the armor Tommy got from the basement making him invisible? There is no proof in the text, but it seems logical.
7) Tommy performs Techno’s tasks, all very fairytale-like. Get him a pack of wolves, get him lost magical objects.
8) In gratitude, Techno gives the final gift - the magical axe, fulfilling his duty as The Grateful Donor.
9) Tommy returns home invisible, unrecognisable, everyone thinks that he is dead. This completely fits the trope which stems from the original meaning of the ritual - the initiated died and returned a new person. Him being invisible means him still belonging to the world of the dead.
4. TWO PHASES
This is the point where we start facing complications. After Tommy runs away from Dream and seemingly returns home, the cycle begins anew - Tommy’s home gets destroyed, he gets helpers, has to seek Dream out etc. The fairytale having two “phases” is not uncommon. Propp: “Development from Villany or Lacking to Wedding or any other resolution can be called a tale. The resolution can be <...> escape from a pursuer. Such a development can be called an act (a phase). Each new Villainy, each new Lacking creates a new phase. One tale can have several phases. <...> One phase can follow another, but they can intertwine as well, the first phase can halt, a new phase gets inserted.”
I presume that this is what we’re dealing with here. While there is not a lot of connecting tissue between the phases in our fairytale, there is proof that they are parts of the whole. For example, a tale can be considered whole if “a magical object, received in the first phase, gets used in the second”, which, in our case, is the axe.
So let’s look at how the second phase begins.
1) Tommy gets accused of something he hasn’t done. In tales the second phase usually begins with the hero being unrecognised while a false hero claims the reward. Here we see a very different form, but the motif of a certain substitution and of the hero having to prove himself again is still here.
2) Dream is, again, the Villain, tricking Tubbo into giving away a magic object, the discs. The discs are seemingly a talisman, providing the city of L’Manburg with protection. Without them, the city is open for an attack.
5. THE DRAGON
The dragon, according to Propp, is a very complex character with a lot of meanings. Firstly, it needs to be said that the dragon can be any animal. Usually it is, of course, a serpent, but in a lot of cases it is a fish or something else.
So, the dragon is someone who swallows, thus, in come cases, taking the hero to the land of the dead in his belly or having the land of the dead right inside of him. Inside, the hero can find riches/magical objects. This is, again, connected to the initiation ritual, with the hut sometimes being seen as an animal, swallowing the initiated. As the public opinion about such rituals changed, the dragon morphed: a good guy who gratiously spits you out > you have to make him spit you out > having to cut your way out > someone else cutting you out > just killing him with the threat of swallowing being only a threat.
The dragon has a lot of attributes, sometimes all of them at the same time. The dragon is associated with water (he’s a fish or controls the rivers or the rain etc), with mountains (caves), fire (breathes fire, guards a river of fire) and being able to fly. The dragon sometimes has a lot of heads, multiplying his ability to swallow.
With this said, let’s look at who destroys L’Manburg.
- Technoblade can fire rockets. He wears red. He has a golden crown and an intrinsic connection to gold with his simularity to a piglin (gold, according to Propp, is a metal of the sun, of fire). In addition to that, Propp has an example of a fairytale where the serpent turns into a giant pig. Also, let’s not forget that Techno can float while firing rockets.
- Philza has a flying element to him.
- Dream has a connection to water (took Tommy to exile by water), has a connection to the land of the dead (see exile), and mountains (first met Techno on the cliff near the sea, again, water). In the first season, Wilbur called him a lizard. Later you will, of course, see that Dream has even more simularities with the dragon.
But who is the dragon? The answer is simple: all of them are part of the same creature. Three heads of one body, all representing certain aspects of the dragon. Usually the dragon is a hybrid between a serpent and a bird, but here we see an addition of a pig. I don’t see why not.
6. THE SECOND JOURNEY
After an act of villainy (the destruction of L’Manburg), thus, another exile, Tommy has to embark on another journey to the beyond to prove himself. Now he has more of a purpose, he has to search for the magical disks, a very fairytale motivation, and, supposedly, slay the dragon as revenge. Tubbo also somehow plays into all of this. I would say that Tubbo is very close to being The Princess. Dream doesn’t kidnap Tubbo, but he later holds him hostage and threatens his life. It is not accidental that the season ends with Tommy and Tubbo sitting on the bench together - not like Tubbo was the second main character; Tubbo is Tommy’s prize along with the discs.
But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. With typical for the second phase swifteness, we go through:
1) Tommy getting a crossbow from Ghostbur. Ghostbur is a classic Donor, he is the grateful dead realtive, a very common trope for Donors.
2) Tommy acquires Punz as his Helper by bribing him.
7. THE FINAL BATTLE
During the final, we see all the previous elements, repeating in perfect harmony.
1) Tommy has to get to Dream by boat. See getting to the place of the exile. He’s returning to the land of the dead.
2) He has to have a magical object, a compass, to lead him there. Dream again becomes a Hostile Donor when giving it to Tommy.
3) Dream is on the giant mountain, guarding the entrance to where the discs, the searched object, are. A classic place for a dragon to be.
4) Tommy uses the axe and the crossbow to fight Dream, utilizing his Helpers.
5) However, he wins with neither: Dream leads him to the cave deep underground. I would suggest that this can be interpreted as dragon Dream swallowing him.
6) Inside Tommy finds himself deeper in the afterlife. Here he sees the disks on the golden blocks (remember what gold means? the beyond and the searched object) and dead animals, Henry and Friend, just in case you still haven’t realised that this place is where the dead go.
7) Only the third (three - a magic number in tales) Helper, Punz, cuts Tommy out of the beast’s belly in complete compliance to tales’ canon. Usually the one to win is not even the hero, but his helpers. However, the helpers act on the hero’s will, are continuations of him and his virtues, are him in a way.
8) Tommy hears dead Wilbur afterwards. Why? Because Tommy himself just returned from the land of the dead, of course.
9) Tommy slayed the dragon, got the searched objects and Tubbo. And they lived happily every after. Or, at least, in this fairytale.
8. THE CONCLUSION
There is none. Make of this mess what you will.
It is interesting, however, that season 2 so heavily foreshadowed: Dream standing between the lands of the dead and the living (driving the boat, guarding the cave, later - conducting the train and literally resurrecting people); Tommy dying and being ressurected.
Tommy’s prison visit is a perfect miniature of the initiation/the tale actually.
1) The Prison stands on water, but to get there you have to get into a small house on the land. You have to go through the portal, wait, and then get through it again - a very magic-esque procedure.
2) The Prison is massive, much like all the castles in the beyond.
3) The guard has to let you inside. The guard is not human. The guard wears a golden crown.
4) You have to go through trials to get inside, including the trial by water (swimming through the tube) and fire (walking through lava).
5) In the end, Tommy dies, gets resurrected and walks out. Everyone looks at him differently now.
The only thing in this which doesn’t fit the unsual tale format, is that Tommy gets nothing out of this. No rewards, no money, no princess :(
Cheers, thanks for reading! uwu
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Got It
Synopsis: (Secret Agent! AU) You sat on barstool inside a strip club. You have your eyes on Kim Taehyung, another mercenary agent like you. You planned it for months. You were hired to intercept Kim Taehyung before he can transport an information that could ruin several market industry. Your goal is to steal his watch. However, you were faced with slight difficulty. You were enjoying his company way too much. Can you resist his charms? You have to try harder.
Warning: Mature Content, mentions of weapon, sexually suggestive conversation, lap dancing, dry humping.
Word count: 3,395
Mood song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8wjbY0Tyfr4
“One Bourbon, please” you ordered as you raised your hand to signal the bartender and slowly sat on the barstool. You swiveled from your seat and leaned with your arm on the high table while you wait for your drink.
From your seat you could see men riveted to the girls on the stage, dancing, flying and grinding down to a pole. But your eyes were fixated on somewhere else. You’ve been waiting for this for so long, meticulously planned and watch it fall in to proper places before you could make this move.
You were wearing a tight-fitting midnight violet dress, chest slightly exposed, and the hem ending right above your thigh. When your drink arrived, you shifted from your seat, legs crossed, and your elbow resting from the table as you took a sip from the rock glass. You tucked your hair from your ear when it fell, and you could swear someone was gazing at your direction. It was hard for men not to look at you, they’d be damned if they didn’t.
Well, naturally you’d be attracting a lot of men from your seat, since you are one of the few women inside in a male-catered strip club. You weren’t there for a show, or some woman engulfed with jealousy to see your cheating husband having fun. No, tonight you are an exception. You are there for a purpose and right now he is finally staring at you. Just one seat apart.
“Your first time?” He asked, taking a shot from his glass. He raised his empty glass to indicate the bar tender to refill his drink with a 21-year-old Royal Salute. You raised one eye brow and looked at his direction. “No” you smiled.
“What brings you here then?” he pursed his lips and folded his arms. His eyes now surveying you. “Observing…” your body leaning a bit forward to his direction, not showing one bit of intimidation. “Observing?” he continued, in return he also leaned towards you, not backing out as if taking up to your challenge. “Hmm..” you chuckled, sitting back from your position and being the first one to concede to whatever it is you two have stirred. You sipped from your glass, eyes now looking at the women dancing.
“You like women?” he tilts his head
“I like men more” you replied, as your finger traced the outlines from your glass and you stared back. You faintly saw his spine shake, as if you have roused something from him, piqued his interest.
“What brings you here?” You asked coyly. He just bats his eyes and smiled. Damn, he looked cute.
“Just like any other men, up to no good.” He confessed and grinned. “So, you are here to observe and learn from those women up on the stage? For what? For your boyfriend?” he looked back to the stage and sip from his glass.
“You could say that… but no, I am doing it for someone else, someone I want to attract for the night…” you spoke bluntly, while looking at him even if he was looking at somewhere else.
He turned around and smirked “Must be one lucky guy”.
“Who knows, it might just be you.” you shrugged as you looked away, smirking. You finished whatever that is left from your glass.
“Kim Taehyung” he extended his hand to yours. You looked back and smiled.
“Y/N” you replied.
“Nice to meet you Kim Taehyung” you shook his hand.
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You already knew who he was. Kim Taehyung.
Your current client, a man named Mr. Ong who holds a seat on an international trade bureau, introduced Taehyung’s file to your office one night. During your study, you found out several similarities you shared him. Both of you are mercenaries, independent agents to whoever have any interest to shell out millions of dollars for a single task.
Both of you had a promising future, but dropped out from school just because. Both of you started early on this underground business knowing that the pay is more than good, in fact it blasphemously outrivaled any other job. Fuck. You roll your eyes. You are pretty sure he gets the same elation after every successful mission. You two must be insane, and that further ignited your pursuit. Nothing is more attractive to you than a man who shares the same ambition, no matter how morally wrong it appears to achieve.
You were tasked to steal an information from him, encrypted to a memory card hidden somewhere beneath his watch, as you were told. Your client insist that it is of great importance, that the market industry of several countries will be in jeopardy if that information is not intercepted immediately. Honestly, you could not care less.
Now that the secret transporter is right in front you, his boxy smile is definitely testing your confounded endeavor and your damn loyalty to the money. You furtively shake your head hoping to keep your mind refocused on the present task. You can’t let your months of probing, studying profiles and building a fake character around the people involved just to get this close to him go to waste tonight.
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“Oh so you knew my friend Jimin huh?” he chuckles. Finishing his 5th shot of whiskey. He raised his again to gesture the bartender for a 6th refill. “I’m appalled you haven’t gotten under his influence. Typically, women just…” he laughed midway. You didn’t know why, but you did the same. You weren’t drunk just yet, but you somehow already feel intoxicated around him.
“…just are drawn to him. Even when he just breathe, they are instantly swept off their feet by Park freaking Jimin. It’s not just women, even men!” He raised both his brows, clearly surprised.
“Maybe, but I’m drawn more to men who is crazy as me.” You flipped your hair, exposing your neck. “…and he doesn’t quite make the cut” you continued.
You smirked as the sight of him gulped. He took a quick glance from your bare display of your decolletage. Did that surprise him? But you were just getting started.
“What do you mean by that?” he slowly returns his gaze from your skin towards your eyes.
“Well…” you tilt your head bashfully as you stood up and move to a sit right next to him, finally closing the gap.
“I like to make. Bold. Moves. That’s for starters” you bit on your lips trying not flash another smile, as you took his glass from him and downed all its contents empty. He froze. You left him dumbfounded.
You looked at the sight quite proudly, taking control of the mis en scene, leaving him bewildered and vulnerable. It is only a matter of time and patience to have him finally wrapped around your fingers, and you are willing take it slow. Shit. Are you enjoying this way too much?
“Bold moves? I hope you are not revealing yourself way too much. It’s pretty dangerous” he looks away as he asked for another refill you stole from him.
You chuckled as you were holding on to your empty glass, staring blankly at it “Aren’t I? I kind of like that sound” Suddenly you felt his warm palms against yours. You stopped smiling as you turn your gaze towards him, clearly off-guard. “Your glass please?” he demanded as he smirked.
Did he just took over and shift the control of the present situation to him? You jolted at the thought.
“Sure…” you handed your empty glass over to him. He held it for the bartender to have it filled with the same drink he had earlier. “I hope you don’t steal anything from me for now on. I don’t like it.” He said sternly.
“Sorry” you apologized, looking down. You suddenly stiffened from your seat. Wait, did you just apologized to the person who you are supposed to deceive and exploit by the end of the night?
“It’s fine” he snickered. “Women showing regret when they’re wrong, that’s genuinely attractive” he gleamed at his own glass as he took a swig.
You were lost in thought. Confused. What just happened? You never liked the idea nor the feeling of being subordinate. You love being in authority. Men, influential men, you always find them on their knees begging before you and asking for your help. It is the view you glorified, perpetually.
Just how many women can make men desperate without taking off their clothes or pointing out a gun? What you two have is far greater than a human figure or artillery, it was knowledge. Vast one that can possibly create a war if one of you ever fancy. It is the reason why you kept this job.
However, you are confronted by a man who might just be far superior than you are. Have you misjudged him?
“Do you… perhaps find me attractive?” you tried revert the situation with your question.
“I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t be.” he replied. He raised his eyebrow
“Sorry for earlier. Maybe I can make it up to you if I show you how remorseful I can be?” you instigated.
“Oh, was it not enough?” he licked his lips.
You shook your head. “I can do better.”
You pursed your lips pointing out to the dancer. “Want me to show you? All free. Well, that is, if you agree..”
“Right now?” he enquired as you nodded.
Quickly, he downed the last of his whiskey. You waited for his reply. “Where can I see this show you were saying?”
“Follow me” you held his hand and left the strip club.
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As you opened your hotel room, you directed Taehyung to enter first. He was hesitant at first, but your smile softened any trace of doubt from him and finally entered the room.
“Nice room. Quite cozy…” he looked around the ceiling even if there wasn’t anything to see. You closed the door behind you.
“Sit” you pointed at the wooden chair to Taehyung. He obliged, yet his feet were shaking.
“Relax, I’m not going to do an interrogation” You stood behind him, reaching out an arm as you gently pressed your hand on to his lap, assuring his safety. He suddenly quivered from his sit. “We haven’t even started yet.” You chuckled.
He moved his head, as if tickled at the dry sensation of your voice which sits right next to his ears. You pulled out your phone from your purse and filtered through the contents of your playlist. Finally you found it and played the song you’d love Taehyung to hear.
As the first verse fiddled, you surprised Taehyung by dropping down your heel in between his legs from behind while he remained seated. The sight left him paralyzed. Finally, you were back in control.
You brushed your hand on your bare legs from your thigh down to your heel, entrapping him further to you, with your delusive enticement. You needed to put his attention on you, and kept it as long as you could.
You shift your position, and danced in front of him now. Swaying your hips, spreading your legs and dropping down on your heels, shamelessly. You let him watch and do nothing from his sit.
When the song was almost over, you artfully sat on his lap, moving your hips against him as if simulating the act of copulating. It was dastardly obscene, but you are not one bit regretful. In fact, if this isn’t a part of your job you would gladly taken your clothes off for him by now.
Suddenly you felt his growing bulge. You were startled and left flustered, but you got to keep on going. You looked away from him, unsure what to do next, yet he swiftly took your chin to face him.
Earlier, you found this man adorable and full of charm, but now you found yourself intimidated at his gazed and the abrupt change from his face. His expression unyielding. His posture dignified.
His free hand secured your back, while you move not letting you leave a single gap away from him. He bit his tongue and watch you danced. Everything about him suddenly felt fatal and intense.
You didn’t want that. His hands are not supposed to be there. It will ruin your plan. So you pulled out both of his hand placed it above his head. You held on to his wrists. You secured it with your left hand as you unbuttoned his shirt slowly, using your right.
You weren’t choking him, yet you found his eyes shut and his mouth gasping for air. Then it hit you. It’s the perfect chance for you to end this whole ordeal. You brushed your nose on his shoulder slowly moving up to his ears. Lips almost touching his ear lobe.
He let a soft moan.
You whispered sweet nothings against his ears, telling him how good he is just by merely sitting down. You made sure he was so distorted from reality, unaware of the fact that you are beginning to take his watch from his wrist.
“Aren’t good boys the best?” you whispered as you pressed down the pressure point that sends him unconscious. You sighed.
“That was easy huh?” You stood up and fixed yourself from the table mirror. You looked at the watch and smiled. Delighted to find yourself victorious.
You took your purse and tucked his watch inside. “Oh, I almost forgot!” you picked up your phone which you tossed on the floor earlier. Before you left the room, you took one last look at the man.
Has it not been for work, you would’ve asked him out for coffee instead of a private show and a lap dance. It could have led something and somewhere better for the both of you. “Maybe in another dimension, we could have been drinking hot coffee right now, talking how shitty our jobs are…” you shrugged. What were you expecting? You just knocked him unconscious and you were waiting for a reply?
You turn off the lights of the room and left.
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Upon arriving at your apartment, you began to inspect his watch, looking for the memory card your client desperately covets. You carefully unscrew his watch, removing its contents gently. You finally found the memory card hidden at the back of the plate.
You took your memory card reader device and connected it to your laptop. You opened the folder and found that there was only a single file in it. You checked. It’s a recorded video.
“Hi Y/N. Surprised?” he chuckled. Damn it. You knew you are screwed.
“Well to be honest, I wouldn’t expect you to get this far, but hey, congratulations! Well done! But don’t you think I’m a far better player?” He scrunched his nose while staring at the camera. You snickered. You nodded, showing you’ve conceded. You were well played.
“You see, I always knew one day I might be able to face a tough contender. But…” he looks at his watch on his wrist and then throws an identical one above his face and catch it with the same hand. Dangled it on the front of the camera as if to annoy you further at your defeat. “You always can’t be too sure, can you? Wait…” he fixed his camera and placed it on the floor.
He rolled his pants, and wrapped the original watch around his thin ankle and hid it with his socks and pants. “It’s going to be uncomfortable from now on, but at least I’d be able to sleep soundly tonight” you were baffled at the scene. You were right. You have definitely underestimated him.
“Oh, you were wondering how I knew you before getting this? Well, let me enlighten you. The moment I received this specific job to transport this information from my client to another. I made a point of doing some research, finding who my client might be having bad terms with. Unfortunately, I trickled it down to your client, Mr. Ong. I have him followed by the people I trust. Later on, I found out that he had hired you, so I asked someone to follow you too. Actually, you may have heard of him.” You gasped. No, you shook your head, hoping you were wrong.
He nodded, as if he saw right through you from the screen. “Jimin. Yes, Park Jimin. You see, never underestimate a seemingly naïve man. You never know what’s underneath them.” He looked down to where his original watch was hidden, as if adding more fuel to your growing frustration. It’s funny how you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him. You actually admired him. His dedication to his job and the extent he is willing to do to get it done, that’s definitely appealing.
“We made it a point that he acts friendly towards you, make it conspicuous that he knows me. I needed you to look for me, follow me, and then trapped you down to where I want you to be.”
Your mouth was left agape. You remembered everything completely. From the moment Jimin introduced himself to you in a coffee shop, and down to taking you out for the evening. One night he insists on taking you home, when you two are walking the streets he suddenly pointed out the strip club, and then shared stories of him and his friend Taehyung who loves to spending time inside it.
How have you been so stupid and gullible, not having any slight idea that getting that information from Jimin was too fast and easy. Things are starting to make sense now.
“I made sure we meet at the strip club. Something tells me you have a knack for dancing…” he winked at the screen. “I always knew you have thing for good men. Good but naughty ones, right?” He nods to himself “Yeah, I also did my research well.” He folds his arms and sat comfortably from his chair. “I hope I convinced you enough to make you interested and keep you from being attracted to me.” He showed his boxy grin. “Aren’t I irresistible? Anyway, I’d also like to thank you. If you haven’t realized yet. I took something quite important from you too.” You froze. What was it that he took away from you?
“Your anonymity, that you hold so dearly.” He was right. Like any other mercenary agents, you desired working in the shadows. Having your true identity known will hold you back, that why you never kept a single person close to you. It’s going to disturb you from work. “Don’t you agree knowledge is very powerful and beguiling?” He looks at the watch from his wrist and pointed something on the side. “If you have been keener, you will absolutely realize that in between the strap of the watch you stole from me have a little device called locator.” Shit! You quickly packed your essential things in your knapsack. You knew what’s coming next.
“I told you, I like women who show remorse if they misbehave. Girls like you should be punished don’t you think so? But, thankfully, I’m quite a forgiving man. I am giving another minute after this video ends, so you can escape. Sorry Y/N, I am also doing my job. I needed more time before you can intercept me again. Maybe, if the time is right. We can have coffee?” you chuckled at the absurdity of the situation. The video ended with that. Asking you out for coffee when the time is right.
“Yeah, I’d love that” you chuckled. You can hear the police from downstairs looking for you. If only you have been more careful and overvalued him you wouldn’t be caught in this situation. You scoffed at screen. Looking at it one last second before you closed your laptop.
The smile of the person who just outsmarted you.
You quickly left from your window to run on the roof above your apartment. Suddenly your phone buzzed. A message from an unregistered number. While running you opened it and saw his message. “I had fun. Thanks for the private show ;) Don’t forget to throw your phone. I’d love to see you next time.” You chuckled as you threw your phone aimlessly away. Damn. He was good.
“Kim Taehyung, you got it” you smirked.
Author’s note: Thank you for giving time. I really appreciate it!
#bts fanfic#kim taehyung fanfic#kim taehyung fan fiction#Kim Taehyung x you#Kim Taehyung one shot#bts secret agent au#bts fanfiction#taehyung x reader#Kim Taehyung x reader#taehyung smut#taehyung x you
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This is probably a tall order, but I was wondering if you could do some general personality headcanons for the Deadly Six from Sonic Lost World? It hurts my heart that the characters weren't more popular, but I can understand why at the same time since they're not that fleshed out. I mean, there's hints of stuff here and there, it's just not much. But the zeti have potential, damn it! Let me know if you want some specifics on things, of if you wanna do this in pieces. Thanks for your time~
WORLD BUILDING! World building and character building is my ham so I’m thrilled to do this! This actually become significantly longer than intended.
So I have never played this game, so I’m basing this exclusively off a few cutscenes I managed to find and general initial impressions. Let me know if you want something more in-depth!
Deadly Six reimagined (Sonic Lost World)
General
The Zeti race as a whole is referred to as “demons” with the Deadly 6 appearing to be the deadliest of their species. Heavily implied in the game is the fact that the Zeti are a lethal, violent race taking pride in practiced malevolence.
An entire race being evil or amoral is not only an outdated trope, but one with really icky origins so knackers to that I’m throwing in some of my own world building.
Based on how the Deadly 6 are all either disciples of or literally Master Zik, the reimagined!Zeti race is less malevolent so much as focused on attainment of glory and recognition. Every person is expected to discipline themselves into a strong, powerful being capable of great achievements. Competition is rampant with rivalry being imposed from a young age.
Despite rivalry, those who study under a common Master consider themselves as a structured force or clan representing their Master and his/her/their ideology. Master Zik in particular holds the ideology of complete domination of foes and enforcing the strength that already exists. Those who come across his clan often get the impression the Zeti exist to conquer when really, it is only in response to what is done to them to remind people not to mess with them.
Zeti are driven by the goals of communal recognition; challenges make individuals stronger, thus reinforcing the people as a whole. Spar-matches and challenges are inherent in the society. Clans and individuals alike compete to bring glory.
But. There is an unspoken rule amongst the Zeti that keeps things from ever turning to a full blood bath. Zeti do not turn against their own Clan or family (both if they are one in the same as is the case with many). The idea of any Zeti attacking a sibling in learning or a relative is unheard of - any who did that are considered dishonorable and risk expulsion as a whole from society.
Master Zik
Utter the name “Zik” in any Zeti plaza. Previous foes will wilt in cowardice. Pride from their allies puffs up further. The average Zeti, neither friend nor foe, will still be able to share a tale or two of one of the greatest warriors to have ever trained.
In a society focused on discipline and achieving greatness, Zik went above expectations. Bars he set have but rarely been neared. Until Zavok, most were largely considered impossible to meet.
Zik is a unique Zeti. Warriors do set Clans up to welcome new students and carry on their name, but Zik is not an easy master. His ideology of domination is standard but his ideas of strength are incredibly unique in a world where weakness is to be quelled and trained away. Zik believes that the inherent strength within an individual should be harnessed instead of ignored. Any skill can be made combative if one knows how to master it completely.
In all his years Zik took on only a handful of students, with only 5 ever making it into his inner circle and being official members of his Clan. He is not an easy teacher.
Obstacles are nothing to this little Zeti. He has faced a lifetime of challenges due to his small stature and his unique powers. Strategy, cunning and an overwhelming drive to be strong allowed him to rise above the ranks. Any challenge he faces he knows has a solution - it is a difficult task to actually perturb him to the point of nerves.
It’s specifically because of his lifetime of difficulties that he taught all his students to eradicate their foes so thoroughly. Too many times his mercy let to more foes than needed. Crush a foe and all they hold dear, and no one will ever come to avenge their broken ashes.
Zik views himself as a father figure turned advisor to the group. In his heart of hearts, they are his pride and joy. He could not leave them. Bedridden and frail he’s still drag his way alongside them to keep these youngsters of his on the right path.
Zomom (First Disciple)
Zomom is the eldest of Master Zik’s student, being the first welcomed into Zik’s inner circle. This is a matter of great pride for him and makes him very protective of the others as a result. Zavok holds the title of leader but it is no secret that the eldest of the students holds his fellow disciples close to his heart much how an older brother might view his siblings.
Zomom knows a lot about the other members of the team. They feel comfortable around him one-on-one, often using him as a quiet listener to talk through their thoughts.
Zomom is a strange Zeti. By height and strength he should have been a popular choice amongst his people. Yet his lack of common sense and social norms made it difficult to fit into society’s definition of a good warrior. The perceived lack of discipline in terms of food also earned him backlash from others. Emotional manipulation is an effective way of ensuring they didn’t have to fight the giant warrior physically.
It was his sincerity, his genuine sense of being and wanting to learn, that made Master Zik bring him in as a student, then disciple. Zomom is genuine, true person who could not tell a life to save his life but still tries so hard to survive in a world where lying is viewed as not just acceptable but required in some social circles. Zik saw his food abilities and build, before tailoring his training to include more food intake and improve speed.
Most affable of the Deadly 6, Zomom may be the butt of the joke at some times but they would all be furious should any harm befall him. Zomom’s willingness to shrug off insults does not sit well with any of them and they will gladly take the place of his vengeful fury to ensure it does not happen again.
Seeing one or two of the Deadly 6 relaxing with Zomom when they are burned out or want to slow down is common.
Zazz (The Second Disciple)
This is a case of a master forcibly adopting a feral child than a student asking a master to teach them. Zomom who was there the day Zazz was brought in to be taught is the only one besides Zik who knows why the Master took such a shining to Zazz, though the most he ever says on the matter is “It was like looking at a silly mirror.”
Zazz is almost the perfect Zeti. Intensely strong, with an immense battle-hunger. You’d be hard-pressed to find a more terrifying opponent. The issue lies with that same battle hunger that would make them popular in other circumstances. The whole point of the Zeti’s competitiveness is that it is, somehow, disciplined and the result of self-control/personal growth. Zazz’s entire motivation can be summed up as “because I want to.”
Zazz is very much a wild child turned wild adult with a lot of energy to burn. The ideas of the Zeti bore them a lot - why should they spend time proving himself when everyone’s so much weaker than them? They’d rather be seeking out good opponents or filling theirs time doing things that feed his ever-flickering attention.
Despite their very intense personality, Zazz is fiercely protective of the clan. They’re the only ones to really indulge Zazz’s wide range of interests and teach them a few of their own. One day they may be with Zeena learning new techniques to make their appearance fiercer, the next they’re in the shadows with Zor learning a shadow technique that will absolutely scare the shit out of Master Zik, this time for sure!
Picks up skills like a dog gets fleas. They’re not a master at any of them but the way they’re able to combine them makes them a fearsome opponent, a lethal prankster and find something to connect over with anyone.
Zeena (The Third Disciple)
Female-identifying Zeti are held to the same standard as any other Zeti so her presence in the Clan isn’t entirely unexpected. However, many Zeti tend to prefer Clans of their own gender out of comfort or outright preference.
Youngster Zeena, known for her cold intensity, had her pick of the litter in terms of Masters - her tethering abilities made her a powerful long-distance opponent, and her technology skills make her a verifiable weapon powerhouse. Her choice to go for Master Zik was a surprise, but Zik accepted her.
In truth, she went for Master Zik because she didn’t want to just be a long-distance specialist. She wanted a Master who could hone her abilities to be used in more creative ways. Zomom and Zazz’s successes got her attention.
With Zik she learned to use her tethering abilities to completely control the field. Able to move quickly, redirect her opponents and load the battle field with her varied arsenal, facing off against Zeena is incredibly difficult.
Always looking to perfect her abilities as the “Perfect Zeti Fighter” Zeena spends a lot of time perfecting her body to make it superior to other Zeti. Outside of that in her lab she’s developing new weapons with distinct abilities to use in combat. Bouncy bombs, whips with unique charges - she’s offered to create some for the rest of the team, but they’ve only accepted limited help.
Zeena views herself as the pinnacle of Zeti power, with the ability to do more. She holds the rest of the Deadly 6 to the same standard and is not above offering weapons advice or ways to improve their appearance to terrify their enemies into a stupor.
Zor (The Fourth Disciple)
Zor was not expected to succeed. There are many ways to be considered a successful Zeti - strength, speed, smarts. Lurking in the shadows is not traditionally viewed as particularly impressive. Zor’s inclination to the shadows made him unpopular in the society.
In turn, this made Zor dislike society as a whole and develop a severe nihilistic attitude that continues to plague him to this day. Why should he trust a system that failed him so badly anyway? It is ultimately pointless.
Zor didn’t so much as join the Clan as he was chased into the clan. Lurking in his shadows he didn’t know of the tall Zeti whose attention has zeroed in on the very interestingly-moving shadow until Zazz had already begun to give chase. Master Zik hadn’t a clue what to make of the huffy Zeti his Second Disciple had under his arm, but if Zazz saw talent in this one, it was worth exploring.
Zor’s abilities as a spymaster make him a vital part of the group. His abilities contribute to that but it is his powers of observation and deduction that really lend themselves to this role. Having been a spectator to his society for most of his life, he has developed powerful strategies to collect information at a mass scale - needless to say, trying to keep a secret from him is difficult.
The main introvert of the group, Zor struggles to be with them all at once. While he likes each one of them just fine (good luck getting him to say that) their overall energy can be overwhelming. He prefers to be with one-three people at a time to preserve his social energy.
Zavok (The Final Disciple)
Societies have ideal standards people strive towards. Often impossible to achieve, they’re viewed more as a lifetime goal than a realistic achievement. Those who do manage to hit it are considered to be above others as they command respect. Amongst the Zeti, that impossible person is Zavok.
Zavok himself comes from an impressive lineage - all the Zeti before him have been great warriors, commanders, people filling leadership roles. Each generation of greatness placed more expectations upon the next and as an only child, Zavok had no one to share these burdens with. He exceled at them, but it was not the glory he sought. He wanted to great his own reputation free of his past.
The announcement of Zavok’s self-imposed expulsion from his lineage shook Zeti society to its core. His subsequent request to become Zik’s pupil further shook everyone, but Master Zik did have a penchant for collecting odd students. What was one more lost warrior seeking purpose?
Zavok evolved far beyond anyone could have guessed under Master Zik’s tutelage. Part of this was due to his own upbringing, but it truly was Zavok’s own determination and fast mind that let him adapt to Zik’s unusual forms of training. He wanted to become indomitable and he would do whatever it took to do so....
...But, he wasn’t quite perfect. Zavok is a brilliant minded individual, but upon reaching the inner circle, he realized that he was incredibly unused to working in a group. It took a great deal of time, self-reflection and humbling for him to become the leader he is to do, due in part to his own hang-ups he thought he had left behind with his family.
With time, he grows to respect each team member and view them as close family. Upon Zik’s retirement and Zavok’s ascension to the head of the Clan, Zavok was the undisputed respected and admired leader of the Clan, holding each of them in high regard and daring anyone to try and take what they had built.
#sonic#sonic lost worlds#zeti#worldbuilding#deadly six#i know nothing about these characters#I just watched a few cutscenes and ran with it#in the future#please limit to 5 characters#my imagination ran wild this time but it took so much longer than I though#imagine#sonic imagine
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Do you know what’s worth fighting for,
When it’s not worth dying for?
I wear a chain around my neck. It’s not that obvious as I keep it tucked away when engaged in a mission; I don’t want it getting damaged or lost. ‘Saving the world’ can be exhausting at times, painful most of those times, and at the end of each mission I take I wonder why I carry on doing this to myself. The bullet answers that wonder all the time.
Any given break I get, I take the time to take a look at it.
I got the bullet on the day I was taken away. I was 9 years old. A week before I was taken away my mother’s body was finally found after 2 months searching for her when she went missing. My father went to the crime scene with the police, and when he came back he quickly packed our things and we left the house, never to come back to it. At the time he never explained to me why we left, or why everywhere we went that he looked over his shoulder ever now and then, or why I was never to answer any phone calls we got to any of the apartments we moved too and fro from.
6 days into leaving the house I asked him what was going on. He pulled out a piece of paper and drew a symbol.

I recognised the symbol. From 5 years old, people in white coats started coming to our house; just a day after I had punched a bully in school and got him badly hurt somehow. On their first visit they asked me if I felt more ’special’ than the other kids. My mother interrupted before I could answer them, telling the people in the white coats to leave and never come back. They left, but they came back. Once every month. Every visit my mother and father were nervous around them, but whenever the white coats started talking to me or tried to get close to me, my parents would stop them. They were odd people, I thought. And on their coats they wore this symbol.
My father said that same symbol was carved into the flesh of my mother’s belly.
He told me to never trust them if they would ever approach me when I was alone. I asked him what they wanted with me. He didn’t answer.
On the 7 day, they came. My father heard their grey vans pull up on the street outside the apartment we were staying in. He grabbed me away from the window and grabbed our already packed bags. But it was too late; the main stairway and the fire exit stairway was already packed with armoured soldiers in grey. We were cornered inside the apartment, left only to wait for the shouting and heavy boot steps to get closer and closer. My father took this time to hug me close, apologise for everything 30 times over, and telling me he loved me 50 times over.
Something welled up inside me. I knew we were in big trouble; if we weren’t going to be killed, then we’d be hurt very badly, for reasons that had everything to do with me. I felt responsible for it all. I wasn’t going to cower from it.
I parted from my father and stood in front of him as the soldiers burst through the doors.
10 bullets were fired.
5 of them entered my father’s torso, 3 of them ruptured the aorta of his heart, killing him within seconds.
4 of them went into the wall of the apartment.
1 of them, I caught with my hand.
I reached out feebly as the bullets were fired, thinking that would stop us getting hit. I didn’t know what to expect, I didn’t expect anything. Except death. Then I felt it hit the palm of my outstretched hand and I clasped as the sensation hit me. My eyes were closed and I was too scared to open them for fear of seeing a gruesome hole in my hand. But when the bullets finally stopped and the room went silent, I peeked.
My hand seemed fine, white and pulled at the skin from squeezing my fist so hard, but still in one piece. In the few strange seconds of nothing, when the soldiers lowered their guns and stared at me, when my father’s body slowly slumped over to the floor, I opened my hand to see what had happened to the bullet I caught. It was a copper colour, and very shiny, it would otherwise have been a very well polished bullet. But there, in my tiny 9 year old hand, it was crumpled and twisted, the outline of my tiny chubby fingers indented in the metal.
That’s when it hit me. That’s when all the questions I had been asking nearly all my life had suddenly been answered.
This brass nugget of metal, that was only a few seconds ago a bullet aimed to pierce through my flesh, was the reason these soldiers had shown up in the first place. It was why we had regular visits from the people in white coats, who kept asking me how my day at school was. It was why my mother had always pulled me close to her when people gave us mean looks as we walked down the street. It was why my father kept himself at a yard’s distance from me when I threw a tantrum. It was why I was fed medicine and antibiotics, instead of being given injections. It was why I didn’t feel much pain when the bullies threw rocks and brick pieces at me. And it was why the soldier fired straight at me in order to only kill my father.
I was a very special child, and the men in white coats wanted what I had.
I reached for my father. I don’t know whether it was the instant acknowledgement and fear of being taken away, or whether it was the absolute certainty that my father was definitely dead, either way I was screaming for him, crying my eyes out, grabbing at his shirt and pulling at for any sign that he was still alive. The soldiers had to pick me up, and I kicked and screamed the whole time they carried me out of the apartment. As soon as we were out they rushed me into one of their grey vans, where a white coat was waiting for me. They sat me down in a seat and strapped my arms and legs down in thin metal clamps, but I broke through them easily. They had to hold me down themselves, two men on each of my limbs. The white coat approached me by my head. She had a soft voice, she hushed at me, yelling me calmly and quietly that everything would be ok. Then she strapped the silicone mask to my mouth and nose. Everything went blurry after that.
I spent 11 years in the white coat’s facility. They did the usual stuff you’d expect a secret evil testing facility would do; severely beating subjects when they disobey, drugging subjects, keeping subjects confined in small quarters, no personal possessions, set meal times, lights out and wake up calls, setting up exercises and tasks for subjects to complete, success was awarded with very little and mistakes were punished severely. For me, their exercises and tasks involved pushing me to my fitness and physique’s limits. They were pleased with how quickly I learnt and how tolerable I was to pain; they enjoyed zapping me with electric probes when I least expected it, just to see what I’d do.
One day I had had a bad night’s sleep, the food was cold and very little, and the task observer had laughed a little too hard when I was zapped for the 5th time. I’d had enough. I left, as easy as that; they trained me up enough for it to be as easy as it was.
They chased me for a good 5 months, but I managed to stay ahead every time. I ran them in circles in every city we ran through and eventually, like threading a thread through a maze of wooden pegs, they got tangled and couldn’t move any further to catch up with me. They seemed to have accepted their loss and I haven’t seen them since.
Somehow, throughout everything, I still managed to keep the crushed bullet with me. The white coats never took it off me, I don’t even think they knew or cared that I had it. Which is good really, because the bullet means a lot to me. It’s bittersweet, the meaning behind it. The bullet symbolises the moment I knew I had a power that could change the world; it also symbolised the only bullet out of the many that I managed to stop before it hit my father.
It symbolises how ineffective I was to save a life, I had unimaginable power and strength but I still couldn’t save the one life that mattered to me.
I don’t intend to ever let that happen again. I keep this bullet with me everywhere I go, looped around a chain on my neck.
Any given break I get, I take the time to take a look at it, and make sure the memories come flooding back to remind me why I’m doing this.
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Holy Grail War where Guda is their summoner's weird back-alley encounter one night, then ghosts them for two days straight without an explanation and then seamlessly sets themselves up in the next-door apartment. They never explain what a holy grail is, and they're human-passing if they take sufficient precautions, and five months in it's just them and one enemy servant left. Guda goes drinking with them every Tuesday.
The first time you meet your new neighbor, you almost have a heart attack.
“Ma’am! Do you need any help with that?”
Face mask, sunglasses, leather gloves. They stand hover above you, and it dawns on you that you’re about to get mugged.
“No, no, it’s fine.” You steel your spine and straighten your back- and immediately wince. Old age has not been kind to you. “I’m fine. Really.”
The youth chuckles- they sound genuinely amused. Since you can barely see their face at all, you can’t read any of their emotions. It’s unnerving. “Don’t be silly, ma’am.” They take hold of the heaviest of your grocery bags. “Where do you live? I’ll walk you there.”
And you can’t really do anything but agree, can you? Ah, it has been a good life, at least. You suppose there are worse ways to go than...
... actually guided home by a yakuza? Who bids you goodbye and just leaves?
... Wait, they were being honest with the offer to help?
*
The youth, you learn quickly (for there is no better intel than old lady gossip) goes by Ritsuka Fujimaru, is probably not part of any yakuza group, and works part-time at the okonomiyaki place down the street.
Their apartment is also two rooms away from yours, which is why you keep running into them.
“Ma’am!” They wave at you excitedly. Their face is still covered. Apparently, they’re just that allergic to showing any important patch of skin. “You shouldn’t stay around these parts, ma’am. Haven’t you heard? A pipeline exploded yesterday.”
Huh, really? There has been a lot of these kind of accidents lately. You didn’t know another one exploded in the area.
This city really needs to get it together. You remember another serie of accidents like this when you were a kid. You’d think in sixty years infrastructure would get better.
“Ma’am! Ah, it’s good to see you sticking to safe paths.”
“Ma’am! Ah, you really ought to check the news! The next street is closed up! It shouldn’t last long, but better safe than sorry, right?”
“Ma’am! Let’s walk home together! I just finished my shift. Are you coming back from the market?”
“Ma’am! This looks heavy, do you need help? Oh, this is new! How do you cook that?”
*
One day, you go out, and you don’t see them. You don’t bat an eye.
The next day, they’re still not here. It’s not the first time that happens.
The next day, still no Fujimaru. Now this is a little weird.
The next day, they’re still absent. You’re getting worried.
“They’re on sick leave.” The okonomiyaki place tells you. “They should be back by tomorrow.”
Sick?
You frown. They’re a weird folk, but you’ve grown to like the youngster. Do they even know how to take care of themself? You remember when you were just getting started into adulthood and boy that wasn’t pretty.
So, you walk determinedly to the youth’s apartment, and knock.
At first there is silence. Then a ruffled sound. Then, a voice. “One moment!”
So you wait.
... quite some time.
After what seems like an eternity, but most likely was only a minute, the door opens up. “Hi ma’am! What brings you here?” And you can’t help but flinch.
They look the same as usual. Sunglasses, face mask, and gloves. The same, no sicker, no healthier.
Three scars like slashes come across their right eye.
They have a sheepish laugh. “Ah, sorry. I didn’t have time to put on my make-up.”
Make-up? To cover the scars?
You look them over. Sunglasses, face mask, gloves. At first you’d assumed they were some kind of delinquent. At first you’d assumed they didn’t want to be recognized.
Ah, sorry. I didn’t have time to put on my make-up.
Ah.
You think you understand now.
“... Would you like to have dinner with me?” Originally, you wanted to bring them some chicken soup and be done with it, but what little of their apartment you can see behind them seems... unfit to host people. You wonder how they manage to live in it. It’s just... so full. Toys and tools and papers as if they could barely focus on one task at once. Where did they even fit their bed?
“Ah.” They click their tongue. “That’s very nice, ma’am, but I don’t think-”
“I’ll look the other way while you eat.” You say. “If you really don’t want me to see your face.”
They stay silent. For a few seconds, you can’t even hear them breathe.
“...Okay.”
*
It starts with chicken soup on a sick day. Then it turns into a small chat every two week. Then a meal every week.
After two months, you’ve gotten into the habit of hosting Fujimaru over twice a week.
They’re comfortable enough to remove their sunglasses when you’re the only one here, now. One of their eye is blank. The other one rarely ever focuses on you when you speak to them.
Weirdly enough, their eye is about the least interesting thing about Fujimaru.
"And there! That’s how you make mocassins.” They’re beaming. You can’t see their mouth, but you’re sure they’re smiling. “Friend of mine taught me how to make these.”
“You seem to have a lot of odd friends.”
“Oh, definitely. But that’s just how life is, y’know?”
Somehow, you get the feeling that their life isn’t exactly what you’d call “average.”
*
It takes another month for them to take off the face mask.
... Huh.
“Hyperdontia.” That’s the only explanation they give you. You don’t press them. Not about their teeth, not about their eye, not about their soot-like skin under their gloves. From what you’ve seen, it’s a miracle that Fujimaru ended up somewhat functional despite whatever stacked that many scars on them.
“Say, ma’am,” they ask between two bites of food, “if you could have any wish fulfilled, what would you want?”
“A wish?” You raise an eyebrow. “I’m a little old to believe in genies, don’t you think?”
“Humor me.” They set their chin on their palm. “Any wish at all. What would you wish for?”
Any wish...
A few months back, you’d probably have answered ‘a friend,’ or something cheesy like that. Life can be... lonely, when one is as old as you, with no kid or nephew to speak of.
But now, well...
“... no, I can’t think of anything. I’m good.”
They blink. Evidently, they were not expecting that answer.
“... You’re a good person, you know that?”
Their teeth are long and sharp. Somehow, it doesn’t stop their smile from being incredibly sweet.
*
Fujimaru has a friend.
Well, multiple, obviously. Fujimaru looks kind of scary at first, but give them the occasion to chat you up, and they will not let you leave unfriended. But what you mean by that is that Fujimaru has a friend.
“I saw Caster the other day!” They always look giddy talking about Caster. You’re hesitant to call it puppy love, but evidently, this person means a lot to them.
Here’s what you know about Caster:
- They act like an old man
- They look young enough that Fujimaru has to be the one to buy alcohol when they hang out
- They’ve got Opinion on writing
“So, you write too, Fujimaru?” You ask, after the third time they retell you about some writing discourse or another.
“Mh? Oh, yeah. sometimes.” They rub the back of their neck. “Well, not really. There’s just this one thing I’ve been writing over and over again, so.”
(They do that a lot. Repetitive things, you mean. Sometimes, they repeat something they’ve just told you. Sometimes, they do the same action twice, thrice in a row, as if they’d forgotten they’d already done it.)
(The scars on their face looks deep. You think they might have some mild brain damage, but again, this isn’t your place to ask.)
“What is it about?” You ask, because you’re genuinely interested.
They look down, and seem suddenly very interested in scratching the underneath of their nails.
“... It’s a little silly.” They finally say. “I had this friend, you see.”
You nod. Do go on. For all the time you’ve spent with Fujimaru, you know surprisingly little about their past.
“He was great. Incredible! He knew so much. And he was kind! And resourceful. He could always get someone out of a bind even when himself had next to nothing to work with. I owe him a lot.”
“He sounds pretty great.”
They nod excitedly. “That’s who I’m writing about. My friend.” They pause, for a second, as if unsure if they should continue. When they speak again, their voice is a little lower, as if telling a secret.
“There is power in stories, you know? If it’s written down, then it’s real. In a way. Not real real. But real in a way that matters. Once a story is weaved, you can’t unmake it. Even if no one knows of it. Even if it gets burned down afterwards. There is power in stories.”
It’s a good thing that they don’t ask you if you’ve understood, because you certainly hadn’t. But they go on.
“That’s what I’m writing about. My friend. I’m writing a story about him. Some meaningless slice of life thing. A regular day at work. Getting coffee in the morning. Saying hi to his daughter. Feeling the wind on his face. That’s what I’m writing. Normal life stuff.”
They tilt their head back, look at your roof.
“... It’s the least I can give to him. It’s the only thing I can give to him. A story in which he lives.”
*
It’s been six months since you’ve met Fujimaru, when they ask you with the utmost seriousness: “Do you believe in lucky charms?”
“As much as the next person.” You shrug. It’s very much a maybe maybe not to you. You don’t care all that much.
“Okay. That’s good.” Fujimaru smiles. It’s weird, how used you’ve become to these teeth. How comforting the sight of scars can become. “See, there’s this one lucky charm I wanted to give you. Something of a spell if you ever need me and I’m not here.”
? Well, why not. It wouldn’t be the strangest of Fujimaru’s quirks.
“Okay, listen up. Don’t repeat what I’m going to say. You can only say it one day where you really mean it, okay?” They lean towards you and cup their hands around your ear. Their breath is almost anormaly warm. “It goes something like this. By the power of my Command Spell, I ask of you...”
#fate#fate grand order#fgo#ritsuka fujimaru#guda#my writing#WELL.#THAT WENT WILDLY OUT OF HANDS.#MY BAD.#Anonymous
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Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 5.9}
*Severus Snape x OC*
Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.
General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing
Words: 6k
Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!
______________________________
"Do I have to?!"
"Yes."
"But WHY?"
"Because being better than everyone else comes at the price of studying more than everyone else. It's as simple as that, and if you want to be better, you'll have to practice." Robin replied with a small smirk which she tried to hide though as she placed the apple in her hand back on the book in front of her where she had taken it from moments ago. "Another ten times."
"Sometimes I hate you, Robin. This is boring as hell!" Jorien sighed, but did as she was told anyway. She was sitting across from Robin on one of the otherwise deserted wooden benches in the spectators' stands of the Quidditch pitch, with her legs crossed underneath her just like Robin herself was sitting. Her closed textbooks in a stack in between them made for a makeshift table, a pedestal for the apple which was soon to be charmed.
It was a quiet Saturday afternoon close to the end of May, and Robin and Jorien had decided to move their weekly tutoring session outside for once, onto the ranks of the Quidditch stadium, while the Slytherin house team was having a practice before the last game of the term next week. Cas had made it into the team in the beginning of the year, and while neither Robin nor Jorien understood what she liked about the sport, they had for once come out here today as moral support.
The ranks were almost completely empty, the high towers closed off as always between games, and thus it was merely Robin and Jorien sitting in the spectators' ring surrounding the pitch. Nobody else was stupid enough to be out here to watch a mere bloody practice... Robin was no fan of the game, admittedly, and neither of the stadium as a place to work, but Jorien had wanted some fresh air as a change to the dungeons for once, and thus Robin had let herself be dragged out against her preference. And she had regretted it immediately. The warmth and bright light made her dizzy, the bench she was sitting on had seen better days, and she was only too glad that she only had to give instructions and see to it that Jorien followed them correctly.
Today they were revising the second year charms for the upcoming exams, and Robin actually found herself fairly amused to let Jorien enlarge an apple to the size of a pumpkin and then shrink it down to a pea. Slowly, that is, which was way more difficult than having it just switch size with a start. It required great focus on one's own magic and the object of choice, and she thought it important for the young girl to learn this now instead of in the middle of next year when everyone else would. Focus was absolutely vital, and the sooner she learned that the better.
While Jorien practiced her spells and obviously tried very hard not to throw the apple as far away as she could instead of changing its size, Robin observed the Quidditch practice. More specifically, she tried to observe Cas, because she didn't care about anyone else on the team enough to risk getting her eyes scorched out by the sun for them.
"Robin?"
"Yes?" She answered Jorien, but kept her eyes in the sky to seek out which one of the small black spots could be Cas.
"Why are you so good at this?" Jorien asked in as close to a whine as Robin had ever heard from her.
"Because I'm three years ahead of you. I've simply had more time to study magic. Obviously I'm better at it."
"No, I mean… why are you so good at making us learn things? I hate you for being so strict about it, but it does work."
"I don't know." Robin shrugged and squeezed her eyes together as the sun hit them full force once again. She knew why she preferred rainy weather; perhaps she should consider buying some sunglasses. "I don't try to make you learn, I just like to talk about the subjects."
"Is that why we're basically two years ahead in everything related to potions and herbology, but not in history of magic, for example?"
"Yeah." Now Robin couldn't keep the smirk to herself. "I love potions and everything related to it. Could talk about it all day, every day. I probably do, actually."
"You certainly do. God knows why… I find the class barely bearable, and only because Professor Snape isn’t as mean to us as to the others. Because he likes you."
"I find that hard to imagine." Robin said and found herself glad for the first time that her face was red from the heat anyway.
"That he's nice to us or that he likes you?"
"I know that he likes me, and I expect him to be nice to you if you're nice to him, but I doubt that there is a connection between those two."
"You expect him to be nice?! I don't know in which world you're living, honestly. He is really scary and mean most of the time, and he usually snaps at people for literally no reason."
"Believe me, he usually has a reason." Robin snorted and shook her head as she finally looked at Jorien once again. "But that reason doesn't always make sense to anyone but him. He isn't an easy person to understand, and he sees to it that no one does."
"You do understand him though, don't you? I mean… you spend an awful lot of time with him, so you guys have to get along somehow."
"We do get along. It isn't always the easiest thing, but we're making progress." And somehow, Robin thought, they had simply refused to give up on each other for so long that by now they were at a point where they had adapted to each other's flaws enough for their rough edges to fit together. Very well even, at least in Robin's eyes. Maybe that was just her feelings getting in the way of her judgement, but would they be working together this successfully if they didn't function well together anyway? Robin shook her head to push the thought back into the depth where it had come from.
"But… how?! Can you tell me that secret?" Jorien asked with more curiosity than Robin would've liked.
"You are trying to distract me, and I can tell you that it's not working. The apple, ten times." She said, and gave Jorien a pointed look.
"But I've already done two! You just weren't looking."
"Have you now? In that case, start over. Twelve times. Starting by one again. Now." Perhaps, Robin thought, she was being too strict about this. But if Jorien couldn't focus for the mere twelve minutes it would take to make the stupid apple grow and shrink twelve times, then she would run into serious problems sooner or later. Charms weren't Jorien's problem, they never had been, it rather was her lack of focus when she didn't deem something important enough. So doing a boring task over and over again might seem like a punishment, but Robin was only trying to get her to concentrate. Even if the task was easy.
This time Jorien didn't complain, only sighed, and actually did fifteen times the task just to prove to both of them that she could. Robin didn't say it, but she knew that she would probably have done the same thing if the roles had been reversed, and she felt very much pleased with Jorien for that ambition. But she also believed that they had done enough practicing for today, especially out in the sun like this, and thus they packed up before finally observing the practice game of Quidditch going on in front of them.
While Jorien seemed almost genuinely curious about the fast pace at which their housemates scored points, Robin found her only entertainment in watching someone getting hit by the bludgers. It just made her snicker to see some of the people she couldn't stand get hit by very heavy flying balls. They should make a sport out of that alone, because then Robin would definitely enjoy watching the games a whole lot more. The visual she had of it in her head alone was more entertaining than the current Quidditch game in the real world, and Robin snorted to herself as she watched imaginary people get knocked off their imaginary brooms by imaginary bludgers. That was fun. Snape would love it, even if he'd never admit it, and Robin made a mental note to tell him about it later. She just loved to make him smirk or even smile sometimes, for it always seemed to brighten up her whole world for a while. And he probably did smile more often these days indeed, when he thought that Robin wasn't looking, but she'd caught him often enough to know. A smile was on her lips before she knew.
"Asshole!!!" Jorien's yell snapped Robin out of her mind with a start, but before she had the time to fully register what or who the girl was yelling at, her eyes were drawn to the bludger that came speeding right into their direction.
Robin grabbed her wand from the waistband of her jeans, but Jorien was faster to direct hers at the iron ball with a shaking hand. "Engorgio!"
Robin's blood froze over with a start when she realized what Jorien had said, but the shock sat so deep in her bones that it robbed her of any ability to react. All she could do was watch how the bludger grew to the size of a wrecking ball in an instant, before it crashed straight through the wooden construction below them with a thunder of demolition. Robin's eyes met Jorien's for a broken second of shared panic, then the stand below them gave way as the entire construction collapsed in itself. One last spark of an instinctive need to act grabbed Robin, as adrenaline accompanied her fall, and she threw a blind spell at Jorien without any fathomable thought in her mind about what she did. When everything went black, she couldn't remember anything but fear.
… … …
Pain ripples through her body, piercing her from left to right with heated blades that covered her skin in a layer of cold sweat. Robin felt nauseous to the core when her eyes snapped open.
"I don't know what is wrong with her!" An exasperated yell cut through Robin's eardrums and she groaned. What's going on…?
"But we need to do something before her heart rate drops too low, so think of something!" Someone else yelled back, but the voices were moving away rather than closer to her. They weren't talking about Robin… oh god. Jorien!
Robin sat up with a start, yelping in pain as she did, as she scanned the room with frantic eyes in search for her roommate. The collapse, the fall… it came back to Robin with a start, and she went on to ignore her pain as she struggled to her feet. Jorien had been put into the infirmary bed next to hers, and even though it was surrounded by various people trying to help, Robin saw enough. Oh no… this was all her fault.
"You shouldn't be up!" Someone addressed Robin as soon as she stepped to stand next to Jorien's bed. "You must lay back down in this instant until we have inspected your injuries!"
"Don't bother, I'm fine." She replied with a frown, and had to realize that speaking made her feel even more sick. Gods, her entire body hurt. But she was alive, wasn't she? That was good enough for now. Jorien in the bed in front of her perhaps wouldn't be so lucky. She seemed to be petrified, but also not really… Robin's vision went out of focus for a moment, and she aggressively blinked to get her eyes to function again. She needed to function, damnit! Jorien's eyes were wide open, her lips parted in a silent scream, and her hair floated around her head in slow motion. "What's wrong with her?"
"We don't know, she was floating in the air while we found you lying in the shatters. She was almost motionless, just like this. Frozen in time..." The nurse with the oddly blurry face replied, and tried to push Robin back down onto her own bed. Robin however had no intention to let her do so, and simply stepped around her with a shiver. Her head was spinning… but she knew that she had to help Jorien. She knew that this was her fault, all of this. She had pushed the girl to far in her practice of the stupid charm. She'd failed to protect her from her own mistake.
"I… I did this." She managed to say in a decently steady voice, and the more she focused, the more she could suppress her nausea and even the burning pain. They could deal with that later. "Before we fell."
"And what exactly did you do?!" Madam Pomfrey asked from the other side of the bed, and let her hands drop from Jorien's neck. "Her heart is very close to not beating anymore, so you better tell me right in this instant!"
Robin blinked a few times, and finally felt her mind clicking into work mode. She moved from her position in the middle of the beds to stand directly above Jorien and across from Madam Pomfrey. "You have tried the anti-paralysis potion, yes?"
"Of course, but it has shown no effect! What did you do to her?"
"It should have worked…" Robin frowned and dug through her memory for a moment, but she couldn't remember what she had done, what had happened. There was nothing, her mind was blank from the moment on when she had looked into Jorien's terrified eyes. "But she is definitely paralyzed rather than petrified. It should be working."
"It doesn't, so lay back down and let us try to save her in another way!" The matron snapped at Robin, who however couldn't care less about what the woman said. The stabbing in her side made it hard to breathe and even harder to think, but Robin only had to look at the girl in front of her and her own guilt and fear pushed any haze out of her mind. Focus… she took a deep breath. What was the problem? The potion wasn't working. Why wasn't the potion working? Not because it was faulty. Which means… Jorien must have something in her system that neutralized one of the ingredients of the potion! But what could it be? Geez… there were endless possibilities.
"Perhaps we should-... Ah, Professor!" Madam Pomfrey said in a relieved voice. "Good that you show up at all at last!"
"What is this entire ordeal about that my presence was demanded so insistently?" Snape's deep voice finally had Robin look up from Jorien's floating hair, and the room was spinning again at her movement. But her eyes found his nonetheless, and she could tell that his expression went from annoyance to a brief second of shock, then back to the thickest neutral facade. "What happened?"
"Later. Right now we have to keep Miss Blakeley alive." Madam Pomfrey shut his demand for answers right down and turned back to Jorien. "The anti-paralysis potion had no effect, and if we don't find another solution quickly, then-..."
"No, we don't need another solution." Robin interrupted her with a tone as determined as she could manage. Her entire left side felt like someone had poured liquid fire over it at this point, her throat raw as if cut open and then stabbed her with a million daggers more. "We need Kalinistra."
"Not now, Miss Mitchell, just move aside and let us do our work!" Pomfrey scolded her, and the nurse next to Robin once again tried to subtly get her to sit down at least, but Robin pushed her hands away and suppressed another whine at the harsh movement.
"I am doing your bloody work for you and if you had any sense in you, you would just do as I say!" She groaned, and blinked the tears away that had sprung to her eyes. "Jorien has a substance in her system that neutralises the potion, and we have to get rid of that."
"Good point, go on." Snape replied immediately, before any of the others could even try to put an end to Robin's explanation once again.
"If you look at the… ingredients in the anti-paralysis potion, you see that… that it's mainly based on herbs somewhat related to Pellatium. What neutralizes Pellatium would be something like Mandrake root, and-..."
"And Kalinistra would erase any trace of Mandrake." Snape concluded before Robin could, and she started to nod before she had to stop when it made her ears ring and her head feel like exploding. Another wave of cold sweat broke over her skin, and her breathing grew more shallow by the second.
"Miss Blakeley came here yesterday for some Pepperup Potion, actually…" The nurse said quietly, and all eyes flew to her in an instant.
"That's about seventy percent Mandrake, just so you know." Robin huffed, then rolled her eyes, and regretted it immediately.
"And you couldn't have mentioned that twenty minutes ago when she was brought here?!" Madam Pomfrey scolded her young colleague, but then turned to Snape. "So your suggestion would be to give the girl Kalinistra and then another dose of the anti-paralysis potion?"
"It is Miss Mitchell's suggestion, but I absolutely agree." He replied with a glare down at the matron next to him. "Didn't you say time was scarce? I would suggest you get started then."
As Madam Pomfrey and the nurse jumped into action, Snape moved out of their way and instead came to stand next to Robin. She noticed his presence close by her side, but kept her eyes fixed on Jorien while waves of cold heat rolled over her continuously and brought back equal waves of dizziness. If she had looked him in the eye, for just a second even, he immediately would've known that something was up with her. She didn't even dare to brush her hair out of her face, nor away from where the sweat made it stick to her neck.
"Kalinistra was a brilliant idea." He mused after a while, as they both watched how Madam Pomfrey gave Jorien another vial of anti-paralysis potion at last.
"Hope so." Robin pressed out in as neutral a tone as possible, but there was no way he could miss just how fake her entire demeanor was. Every breath hurt like a knife stabbed into her ribcage, and it was hard enough to breathe at all. Talking was worse.
"What happened to her?" He asked another time, clearly addressing Robin, for his voice was too quiet for the other two to hear. She loved that he actually talked to her, but right now she just couldn't keep up with that on top of everything else.
"I happened." Robin whispered, in a new wave of guilt, and wrapped her arms around her middle only to jerk them back when an overwhelming pain rippled through her torso upon a mere touch. She bit her lip to keep quiet; this was not good. But the current moment wasn't about her. This was about undoing what she had done.
A gasp cut through the silence then, and it was followed by a violent quake going through Jorien's body. Then her eyes closed and snapped open again as she started blinking rapidly, breathing hard as if someone had made her jump only moments before. But she was moving again, at a normal speed, and Robin could have cried in relief. The quiet sighs of the others told her they shared that sentiment.
But Jorien for her part looked around with frantic eyes, her features dominated by sheer panic until at last her gaze fell onto Robin. Then, within a second, she sat up in her bed and wrapped her arms around Robin as tightly as she could.
Robin's lips parted in a silent scream that fortunately no one paid attention to, then she bit her lip tightly enough to taste the bitter sting of copper. And yet, the faintest sound must have escaped her, for Jorien let go of her immediately and instead stared up at her with teary eyes.
"I'm sorry…" The girl choked out. "I… I didn't…"
"No, it's nothing. Don't worry." Robin replied immediately, with a small smile and a mild tone she had no idea how she was capable of right now. Ignoring everything else, she sat down at the edge of the bed and allowed Jorien to cling onto her again, while she tried to comfort the girl in return. Robin knew that she wasn't good at this, wasn't someone others came to for comfort. But as it seemed, she was what Jorien wanted right now, and she could never deny her that. Not after what she had done to her. Not even as the taste of copper in her mouth grew stronger, and her pain was fueled by the squeezing arms around her ribs.
"Miss Blakeley, how do you feel?" Madam Pomfrey finally asked, but the voice sounded dull and distant in Robin's ears even as Jorien finally let go of her.
"I'm good." The girl replied with a small sigh, and looked from Robin to Snape, then to the matron at last. "Confused, and my eyes hurt a little, but otherwise I'm good."
"That's amah-..." Robin said as she forced herself back onto her feet with as little swaying as possible. "Amazing."
"I expect an explanation. What exactly led to this chaos?" Snape asked at last, and while Robin wanted to give him an answer to that, she found herself too busy trying to keep the room from spinning. So she simply stared down at the ground with wide eyes while Jorien and Madam Pomfrey explained how the bludger had destroyed the wooden construction and how Robin had somehow frozen Jorien in time and space to keep her from falling, which had resulted in the paralysis. That Robin herself had fallen into the ashes however remained unsaid, and honestly, she barely took notice of it anyway. The voices were a white noise to her own alternating waves of cold heat and pain, a drowning echo in a sea of sound.
"But… I shouldn't be feeling perfectly fine, should I?" Jorien frowned suddenly, and tugged at Robin's hand. "We were falling, and I was paralyzed and…"
"You might feel good, but you still need to rest! You have been through a lot, and perhaps it is best if we continue this discussion at a later point. Try to sleep now." Madam Pomfrey cut in before anyone else could reply, and Jorien reluctantly laid back down as she was told.
"I'm okay though, right?" She inquired before everyone else could move away. "Robin?"
"Don't worry. We gave you a little sip of a potion I made, against the paralyzing charm and now you're all good again." Robin replied with a badly feigned smile that however seemed to suffice.
"Thank you for saving my life..." Jorien offered her a small smile in return, and finally closed her eyes with a surprisingly peaceful expression that squeezed Robin's heart in a death grip.
"You shouldn't thank me." She breathed to herself, far too quietly for Jorien to hear. "Not when I'm the one who almost got you killed in the first place." Then, at last, she let herself be shooed away into the wide aisle in the middle of the infirmary, where she wouldn't stand in the way any longer. Perhaps they had forgotten that she had been part of the accident too, not just its cause… but Robin wouldn't draw attention to it. In her eyes she wasn't the victim, but the one to blame. In her eyes, she deserved every bit of the pain she felt.
So she merely kept standing in the aisle like she was the one frozen in time now, hollow eyes staring at nothing while her own arms wrapped around herself in a vain attempt to make it easier to bear the nauseating waved of cold sweat. But every shallow, rasped breath still hurt like a new knife between the ribs, and made brilliant spots of shadow and light dance across her vision in a swirling haze. She blinked them away, and her focus returned barely when Snape's eyes found hers as he came to stand a mere step in front of her.
"Are you alright? You look-..."
"It's nothing. I'm fine." Robin snapped before he even had the chance to finish the sentence. She didn't deserve concern, or sympathy; she deserved to be yelled at as if she wasn't hurt. In defiance of her own state, she dropped her arms to her sides and turned to look towards the distant windows instead. His eyes were too much to bear, they could shatter her with all the things he would never say out loud.
And yet when cold fingers brushed against the heated skin of her neck, a force beyond her drew her gaze back to his. His touch both pleasure and pain brought the sweetest agony of doubling heatwaves to her body, and her lips parted in both a silent sigh and weeping. His fingers traced over the curve of her neck, barely touching upon her collar bone as he pushed away the strands of her hair that clung to it. Then finally the touch disappeared altogether, all too soon. His gaze dropped from her neck to his hand between them, then he met her startled eyes at last.
"Is this nothing to you?" He asked, in a low tone that was both accusation and inquiry, and finally Robin could pry her eyes away from his to let them drop to the hand he held out to her. The sight of deepest crimson on his fingertips let her shudder while a new wave of cold heat ran over her. The sticky feeling on her skin… her neck and ribs and shoulder blades… it had never been sweat. Her hands rose on their own account to cradle his between them, trembling fingers clawing at his skin in an attempt to steady what she saw. But it was her own vision quivering, not his hand.
"Tell me the truth, Robin." He demanded after a moment, but never removed his hand from hers.
Robin looked up at him then, but her hold on him only tightened as gravity seemed to change by the second. Her stomach was at war with her lungs, was at war with her entire left side. "Jorien-..."
"I understood what happened to Miss Blakeley. I need to know what happened to you."
"I was terrified and I don't know what I did to her... There is pain everywhere, and I feel sick, and... and… your face is getting really… blurry... Maybe I should just-..." Robin gasped, and Snape's features above her turned into a swirling explosion of color before it faded to all black. With a start, all the tension in her body was gone.
… … …
"Why do you have to be so stupid… so stupid and so ridiculously brilliant." The deep voice of her favorite person was the first thing that wrapped Robin in an immediate cloud of comfort as her senses slowly returned to her, rising up from the depths of sleep.
"Why do you do this to me?!" He asked quietly, but it still cut through the silence like a clean silver line. "Couldn't you have cared about yourself at least half as much as you care about the ones you choose as yours?"
"No." Robin replied in the same quiet, and finally opened her eyes to look up at the ceiling of the infirmary once again. A single candle was lit on her nightstand, and it made the shadows dance on the cold stone high above.
For a moment there was nothing but silence, no reply to Robin's answer, and she turned her head on the pillow to look at Snape to her left. He was sitting on the backrest of a chair, and looking at her with an almost startled expression.
"How much did you hear?" He asked at last, but made no move to leave nor to sit down properly.
"More than you would like and less than I would." Robin offered him a small smile, and tried to sit up a moment later with surprisingly little pain. Her ribs ached a little, her neck felt itchy, and her wrist did a weird clicking sound when she moved it, but otherwise she could sit up and even cross her legs without any problems.
"I see you're feeling better." Snape commented in regard to her movement, and when Robin motioned for him to have a seat across from her, he reluctantly obliged to sit down at the far end of the bed.
"Physically, yeah… But it still is my fault that Jorien almost died." Robin sighed in defeat, and quickly scanned her surroundings in the dim light of the one candle. The room seemed to be entirely empty but for the two of them, and she found herself relaxing as her eyes returned to Snape. "I screwed up."
"That you did."
"At least you admit it. But I'm drowning in guilt as it is already, there’s no need for scolding me."
"You screwed up because you were stupid enough to pretend that you were fine. Not because you saved the girl's life."
"No! I screwed up when I was too slow to stop that bloody bludger, and then Jorien mixed up her spells because she was panicked and I hadn't taught her any better, and… I cursed her, in our fall. I remember it now. I studied relative time spells and curses just last night, it was the first thing that came to my mind. Throwing experimental magic at her was fucking stupid."
"Seeing as she is perfectly fine and back in her own room right at this moment, while you are here with two previously broken ribs and a scar to remind you of the events of today, I wouldn't necessarily consider the last part as screwing up." He said, and turned entirely towards Robin in his seat on the bed at last. "It might not have been an ideal reaction to blindly throw a spell at her, but you did prevent the worst. If you hadn't acted, she might still have died from the fall. You might have died either way."
"But I didn't. I'm fine, for real this time. I promise. I only feel like it would have been my job to protect her, and I let her down when I didn't stop the bludger before she did. I'm guilty of that no matter what, and I'm guilty of not teaching her better. I know that it is my fault, no matter what you say."
"I wouldn't dare to disagree. I know exactly how you feel."
"Do you really?"
"Yes." He stated, and at last dropped his gaze from hers down to the wrinkled sheets before he continued. "You feel an oppressing guilt for letting something happen to her while you could have prevented it if you had acted differently. You feel remorse for the pain you caused by not preventing her from being hurt in the first place. And when she still looks at you like you were the one thing saving her, you know that all you deserve is the very worst, but not her thankfulness."
"That's… yes." Robin breathed, and her throat felt too tight, her lips too dry, and she wet them before she spoke on. "So you do feel like that as well? When your students get hurt?"
"Only when it's you." He replied, obviously before he thought better of it, and his honesty surprised both himself and Robin as their eyes met once more. After long seconds of silence, he spoke on. "I do feel responsible for what happens to all of my students, in a general manner, especially for the ones in my house. But of course it just has to be entirely different with you. It always is."
"Obviously." She gave him a small smile in return. How could one single person make her feel so incredibly safe and set so exhilarated at once?! He didn't even do anything but look at her… and say that she was different to him than anyone else. "Perhaps it's not a matter of responsibility. Maybe it's trying to protect someone you care about. And when you fail, it hurts so much more because you didn't just fail a responsibility put upon you, but because you failed the one you care about. The thought of losing someone you care about is always scary… if not straight out terrifying."
"You scared me today. I want you to never do that to me again."
"I'll do my best." Robin said, as both his words and the sincerity in his face melted away the last bit of sadness left within her. Her lips curled into a wider smile at last. "Don't worry, your reputation as the emotionless, scary professor who doesn't care about anyone won't be damaged."
"I am not concerned about my reputation. And it seems that people are already well aware that you are my favorite."
"Your favorite nuisance, perhaps." She laughed, and yet the uproar of her heart couldn't be fooled by humor. "But any kind of favorite will do, really."
"If nuisance is the word you would like to go with, I will not stop you." He replied with a small smirk, which only made her smile even more. "But anyone else who dares to say so would make an enemy."
Robin bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from grinning like an idiot. Perhaps it wasn't such a good change that he was getting better at saying nice things to her… it only made her love him more.
A spark of electricity started in her heart, and then crawled through her body in an expanding wave that gained momentum with every fiber it consumed. She really did love him, quite desperately so even, but her mind had never dared put that term to it before now. Before it was finally absolutely impossible to deny. Bloody hell… one stupid term for what she felt changed everything, and yet it changed nothing at all. She still wouldn't do anything but keep it as a dark secret in the shadows of her mind. Perhaps it gave her the permission to dwell in those shadowy places more often… and it definitely would make it harder to leave them again. But she'd never quite minded such a sweetest kind of torture.
"You should rest now. It is three o'clock in the morning and I know you better than to assume that you won't want to study and work as soon as the sun is up." He finally said with a sigh and stood up from the end of the bed.
"Don't go." Robin said before she could convince herself not to. "I'll lay down if you insist, but I can't sleep. Not right now. Can we just… talk? Like always?"
"Do you seriously believe I have nothing better to do at three in the morning than that?"
"Well, seeing as you have been here even since before I was awake, I would dare to say no." Robin raised an eyebrow at him with a smile, and when he rolled his eyes exaggeratedly but sat back down anyway, she knew that his entire protest was merely for show.
"In fact, I do not." He sighed, and quirked an eyebrow at her in return. "What would you like to talk about then?"
"How about some defense against the dark arts revision? OWLs are in two weeks, and I could use some help."
"How fortunate for you that I am well versed in the subject."
"How very fortunate indeed."
____________________________
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BTS Reaction | They React to You Having a Weird Personality
[A/N: Hey gang! I’ve been meaning to post this earlier but somehow I got hit with major writer’s block （￣ε￣）so to the user who requested this, I’m really sorry I took so long to finish this. Hope you all enjoy!
Seokjin
When Jimin decided to tag along with you and Seokjin to go grocery shopping, he didn’t think much of it at first. He was running low on basics such as milk and soy sauce and, being his first time spending some time with you, he thought it would be a great time to get to know you better. And boy, did he.
The three of you were browsing the produce section of the grocery store when you suddenly wandered off somewhere. Jimin didn’t think much of it and continued to stay by Jin’s side, checking the ripeness of the cantaloupes. It was only when he heard you speaking nearby. You were talking in a cutesy voice, the kind one would use when speaking to a baby or small child. It was only when Jimin turned your way to find you speaking to either.
“Aww, aren’t you just the cutest thing ever!,” you cooed while holding a kiwi close to your face. “You’re so soft and fuzzy. Too bad you’re just too delicious otherwise I’d keep as a pet!”
“What the absolute fuck?,” Jimin murmured, totally dumbstrucked of what he was witnessing.
“What?,” asked Jin, too busy testing the cantaloupes.
“Y/N is talking to fruit… like it’s an animal or something.”
“Oh yeah, she does that sometimes. Pretty adorable, right?
Adorable wasn’t the right word Jimin was thinking of. Plain bizarre was more fitting. Or embarrassing as a handful of passersby gave quizzical looks at you. But you were too busy to notice, focusing on your conversation with the small, fuzzy fruit.
Mortified, Jimin calls out to you. “Ah, Y/N! Can you please quit it.? You’re being weird!”
Surprised but unfazed by Jimin’s outburst and overall embarrassment, you simply respond, “But come on, they just look so deliciously cute!” You even gave the kiwi a nice pet before lovingly rubbing it on your face.
Utterly speechless, Jimin continues to gawk at you like a freakshow. His attention does break from you when he feels a sudden pat on the shoulder. He turns around slightly to find Jin next to him with a sympathetic look on his face.
“There, there Jiminie.” says Jin, “you’ll come to love her weirdness.
And Jimin eventually did. Begrudgingly so.
Yoongi
You were sitting alone in a cafe, waiting for your boyfriend Yoongi to arrive. When he mentioned that he had some time out of his busy schedule to hang out, of course you took the opportunity. Although you admired his work ethic and dedication to BTS, you still wished there was more time to spend time together. And it was days like this that you truly look forward to.
He texted you he was running a bit late so all you could really do was wait patiently for him. A task that wasn’t so hard since you found yourself drifting into a daydream while staring out the window. It was only you heard the screech of the chair scooting that broke you from your daydream. You turn to the noise and see Yoongi sitting down in front of you. And with an unexpectant guess.
“Hey Y/N, sorry I’m late,” Yoongi greets you, “Hope you don’t mind that I brought Taehyung along.” Taehyung sits down next to Yoongi and shoots you a cheeky smile.
“No, I don’t mind,” you replied, “Now I have two of my favorite people in the world.” While there was a part of you that wanted to be alone with Yoongi, you were happy to see Taehyung as well. As an apology for being a third wheel, Taehyung even offered to order and pay for all your drinks: an Americano for Yoongi, a vanilla latte for you and a hot chocolate for himself.
Once the three of you were all settled with your drinks, you asked the two men how their day was.
“Surprisingly, it wasn’t too busy. Just going over…” you listen to Yoongi say before drifting into one of your vivid daydreams. You knew it was rude but sometimes you couldn’t help it, you get distracted way too easily. Yoongi knew this about you. This definitely wasn’t the first time you spaced out while he was speaking. Despite this, you always urge him to keep talking since you snapped out of it at some point.
However, Taehyung didn’t know this trait about you and proceeds to wake you up from daydream mode. With a loud snap of fingers he called out your name and your attention was now back to them.
“Oh sorry about that,” you said bashfully.
Unbothered, Yoongi took a sip of his coffee. “No, it’s fine babe. Seemed like you had a good daydream going on.” Both of you chuckled lightly but Taehyung stayed quiet. He wasn’t particularly annoyed by your daydreaming but he did think it was rude to not pay attention.
Half-jokingly, he retorted, “Wow hyung, who knew you were dating such a space cadet.”
“Huh?,” you responded. Taehyung’s seemingly lighthearted remark caught you off guard.
Taehyung chuckles. “I knew all knew you were ditzy but jeez.”
You didn’t know how to respond so you giggled nervously. Even though you knew he was joking around, the way he said it made you feel a bit embarrassed.
Seeing your reaction, Yoongi glares at Taehyung. “Hey, I’d appreciate you not making fun of my girlfriend.”
“But hyung, I was just-”
“I really don’t give a shit whether you were kidding or not, I want you to apologize to her.”
Knowing better to not disobey this particular hyung of his, Taehyung turns to you with apologetic eyes. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he says genuinely.
You reached over to give his hand a comforting pat and smiled at him. “Thanks, Tae.”
You knew he was joking around but it was still nice to hear him apologize.
Hoseok
Everyone in the group knew how close you were to Hoseok. Dating for almost a year already, he was your entire world. Your rock. Your knight in shining armor. And because of his supportive and caring nature, you always went to him whenever you needed something. Hoseok made it clear to you that you could always rely on him.
“Hobi, can you please pick me up?” you’d ask him on the phone and Hoseok would immediately be on his way.
“Hobi can you open my bottle? It hurts my hand”, and he’d gladly open it for you.
“Hobi, I feel really scared and anxious right now, I need you,” and he would drop whatever he was doing to find and comfort you.
To some people, you would see this as Hoseok being a great boyfriend. However, others might just view it as a little too dependent. Others like Jungkook, apparently.
Jungkook didn’t have anything against you; he really liked for the most part. He just thought it was strange for a girl your age to be so reliant on someone, be it her boyfriend or not. He didn’t understand how someone as fiercely independent as his hyung would be interested in someone who is the complete opposite. It was an opinion that he kept to himself until one day.
You knew that today Hoseok and the guys had a dance practice and you thought it would be a great idea to make a surprise visit. On your way to the studio, you were about to turn a corner when you see your boyfriend and Jungkook in the hallway. It looked like they were having a serious conversation so you contemplated whether to wait until they were finished or greet them anyway. That’s when you hear your name being suddenly dropped.
“Y/N?,” Hoseok asks quizzically, “What about her?”
“I noticed that she’s been asking a lot of you lately, things that she could definitely do on her own,” Jungkook hesitantly begins, “I just find it odd that she’s that so dependent on you.”
You felt a rush of heat rising in you from shear embarrassment as you hid away the two men. You didn’t know that Jungkook thought this way about you and you worried if the other’s felt the same way. “Ugh, this is why you don’t eavesdropped, stupid,” you thought to yourself. You were about to leave when you heard Hoseok beginning to speak.
“To be perfectly honest, Jungkook, I like that fact that I’m the one Y/N comes to when she needs help. I like being needed, especially from someone I love. She’ll get to a point where she can be more self-reliant but I’m not going to rush her. So don’t worry too much about her or our relationship, okay?” He finishes his speech with a friendly pat on Jungkook’s shoulder.”
“Sorry, hyung. I didn’t mean to be rude,” he says with a guilty look on his face. Hoseok just responds with a hearty laugh as he puts his arm around the maknae and leads back to the dance studio.
Still standing behind that corner, you couldn’t help but contain the sweet smile on your face. You were still a bit dejected over what Jungkook said about you but the fact you had a boyfriend that will defend no matter what made you feel so blessed. He was truly your everything and you’d be lost without him.
You took a moment to compose yourself before heading towards the dance studio.
Namjoon
It was no secret to anyone that knew you that your favorite thing to eat was anything pickled. Growing up in a family that pickled everything from cucumbers to watermelon rinds, you always found comfort munching on the tangy, savory food. Your love for pickled foods reached an all new high when you moved to South Korea and fell totally in love with kimchi and all its regional variants.
To an outsider, they might see your love for pickled food a bit obsessive, but not Namjoon. Knowing how much you love eating them, he made sure stock up on your favorites at the dorm. So whenever you come over to hang out, you’ll have a tasty snack to eat. This sweet gesture made you love the man even more, if that was even possible in the first place.
The rest of Bangtan thought your obsession with pickles somewhat peculiar but also adorably quirky. Well everyone except for one person: Yoongi. As much as he enjoyed pickled foods himself, he personally thought you took it too far since he’d always catch you eating them. He even avoids sitting and speaking to you due to you sometimes smelling like strong brine. But he tried his best to hold his tongue since it didn’t hurt anyone.
One day, Yoongi walks into the living room of the dorm and finds you and Namjoon sitting at the table. You, of course, was enjoying some pickled okra your mother sent you in a care package.
“Hi, Yoongi!,” you squeaked as you got up to give him a hug.
Yoongi became rigid in your embrace but soon reciprocated the hug rather awkwardly. Pulling back from the hug, he says hurriedly, “Uh, I have to run some errands. See ya guys around,” then hightails it out the door.
His behavior leaves you puzzled. “What’s with him?,” you asked Namjoon but he just shrugs in response.
That very visit, you decided to spend the night at the dorm. You were walking out of the bathroom after brushing your teeth when you heard Namjoon and Yoongi talking in the next room. As you tippy-toed closer to that room, you quickly realized they were talking about you.
“I’m sorry Joon but I just think it’s her obsession with pickles is kinda gross,” Yoongi belts out, “I mean she eats them all the time.”
Before even hearing Namjoon's response, you quickly walked to his bedroom and buried yourself in his sheets. A few moments later, you hear Namjoon walk into the room and feel the bed slightly shake as he climbs into bed.
“You still awake, honey?,” he sweetly asks.
“Yeah,” you said in a somber tone, still buried under the sheets.
“Hey, is there something wrong?”
It takes you a moment before responding. “Do you think I’m gross, Joon?”
Namjoon sighs heavily. “I’m guessing you overheard our conversation. How much did you hear?”
“I only heard what Yoongi said then immediately went towards the room. Joonie, I’m sorry I’m like this.”
That’s when Namjoon pulled the covers from you and cupped your flustered face. “Hey, you have nothing to be sorry about. Who cares what you love to eat? I love you for who you are, Y/N. That’s what I told Yoongi hyung and now I’m telling you.” He then gives you a warm, gentle kiss on the lips.
Overwhelmed by Namjoon’s intense sincerity and affection, you felt your eyes start to water. “You don’t mind that my kisses sometimes taste like vinegar?”
Namjoon chuckles at your question. “Not one bit.”
Jimin
The guys decided it would be nice to have a relaxing movie night and you were invited to tag along.
“How long’s the movie?,” you asked?
“It’s pretty long,” Jimin says before he clicks the play button on the Netflix screen.
“Bet Y/N’s gonna pass out halfway towards the middle,” Taehyung jokes.
You scoff. “I’m not gonna fall asleep this time.” You said this with such confidence but the boys didn’t buy it. You were known to fall asleep at any time, at any occasion. Whether you were on a day trip or at an awards show, you’d often find yourself passing out somewhere, causing some slight embarrassment on your part. And unfortunately, tonight was no different.
“Baby, wake up,” Jimin softly says to you as he gently shakes you awake.
You quietly moaned as you sat up on the couch in the dorm’s living room. “Is the movie already over?” you said groggily, rubbing the sleepiness from your eyes.
Jimin faintly smiles at you. “Afraid so. 25 minutes in - a new record for you,” he teased. You gave him a quick glare.
“I had a strange dream. I wasn’t in it myself but you and Namjoon were there. Namjoon was kinda irritated and said something like ‘what’s the point in even inviting her to these things if she’s just going to fall asleep?’ Good thing it was just a dream, right?” You looked up at Jimin and saw a weird expression on his face. “What?”
He sighs and says, “That wasn’t a dream, Y/N. I was hoping you didn’t hear that.”
“So, Namjoon did say that,” you asked. Jimin nodded. Even though you were the one that fell asleep during the movie, you couldn’t help but feel a bit hurt and ashamed. You bit your lip before speaking again. “Is he mad at me?”
Jimin grabs your hands, gently caressing your finger. “Oh, not at all, sweetie. But even if he was mad, it doesn’t matter,” he says assuringly. “Wanna know what I told him?,” he asked you. You silently nod. “I told him that you’re my sleeping beauty and I wouldn’t change that about you.”
His lovely compliment catches you off guard, causing a light blush to appear on your face. Softly smiling at him, you respond, “You’re such a cheeseball, Park.”
Taehyung
You were out on a dinner date with your boyfriend Taehyung, and you were trying your best to hide your nervousness. It wasn’t the fact that you were out with Tae that made you nervous since you've been together for a few months already. What made you nervous was that this date was actually a double date with Hoseok and his own girlfriend. Even though this wasn’t your first time hanging out with anyone from the group, let alone Hoseok, you still get anxious in settings like this. Especially settings that involved eating. You didn’t consider yourself a gross eater, you just become hyper-aware when you eat around others. Heck, it took you awhile to feel comfortable eating around Taehyung.
The four of you were sitting together at a fancy restaurant, and you tried your best to ease your nervousness by engaging in the conversation. When the food arrived, all hope was lost as you felt the sensation of butterflies in your stomach. Everyone eagerly dug into their plates as you just sipped your water, hoping it will calm your nerves.
Taehyung poked your hand, getting your attention. “You alright, babe?”
You quickly nodded. “Yeah, I’m just not that hungry for some reason.”
Overhearing this, Hoseok turns your way with a cheeky smirk on his face. “What’s wrong, Y/N? Are you afraid we’ll all find out your disgusting eating habits?” he boffs.
Hoseok was merely kidding but his joke still managed to make you choke on your water. Taehyung rubs on your back for comfort as he gives a stern look to Hoseok.
“Hey, hyung,” he says in a rather serious tone, “Please don’t bully my honey pie.”
Hoseok scoffs in return. “Come on, I’m just kidding!,” he belts. Hoseok’s girlfriend proceeds to slightly hit him hard on the shoulder. “What did I do?”
She looks at him. “Like you’re one to Hoseok. Most of the time, you eat like a feral pig.”
You and Taehyung tried your best to stifle your laughter after hearing such a brutal dig. Although shocked at first, Hoseok just laughs it off and goes back to eating.
You then look at Taehyung and smile. “I think I’m actually hungry now.”
Jungkook
You were meeting the boys for the very first time today. Despite you and Jungkook’s relationship being relatively new, he just couldn't wait any longer to introduce you to his hyungs. While this made you feel extremely special, you were also scared out of your mind that you’ll embarrass yourself in front of them. Possibly making Jungkook regret being interested in you in the first place.
When you told Jungkook about your worries, he reassured you that everything will be fine. As you were standing outside of the door of their dorm, you really hope what Jungkook said was true. With a shaky hand, you rung the doorbell. As you expected your boyfriend opened the door.
“Hey,” he says flirtily.
“Hey, yourself. Are they here?”
“Yep, they can’t wait to meet you. Come on in.” He takes your hand, leading you towards the living room.
“Hyungs,” Jungkook begins excitedly, “this is my girlfriend, Y/N.”
The six men got up from the couch and hurriedly walked over to meet you. They politely bowed and flashed friendly smiles, however it doesn’t ease your anxiety.
“H-hello, it’s not to meet you,” you stammered. You let go of Jungkook’s hand and started to fidget your fingers self-consciously.
It was clear as day that you were extremely nervous. Knowing how important you were to Jungkook, the guys went out their way to make you feel welcome. You spent the entire day having fun with everyone; eating snacks, playing party games and just overall playing around. It seemed like the guys really liked you, which caused you to fidget less as the time went by.
By evening, it was about your time to leave and you went to find Jungkook so he could drive you home. You asked Yoongi where Jungkook was and he mentioned seeing him toward his room. After getting directions, you head towards his room. Seeing that his door was opened you cautiously went inside, not realizing that Jungkook was having a conversation with Seokjin.
“Don’t take it too personally, Jungkook. I’m just not sure if I like her yet,” Jin says to Jungkook, neither noticing you in the room yet.
“But why hyung?,” Jungkook says, hearing the slight hurt in his voice.
Seokjin sighs before speaking again. “She’s just super awkward, you know? Painfully so.”
His blunt words hit you hard inside. It turns out you were wrong about everyone liking you. The room fell into a brief yet excruciating silence. It took you clearing your throat for them to finally notice you in the room.
Surprised, Jungkook turns to you. “Y/N?”
“It’s time for me to go. Can you take me home?”
“Uh, yeah, just let me get my keys?”
Before following Jungkook out the room, you gave Seokjin a meek wave goodbye then left.
On your way to the car, you tried to distract yourself by talking about how much fun you had but Jungkook could tell you were still hurt by Seokjin’s words. Before having the chance to open the passenger door, Jungkook spins you around and pulls you into his embrace.
“I don’t know how much you heard from Jin hyung,” he says into your ear, “But it’ll be fine, Y/N. Soon enough, he’ll see you how I see you: an amazing and beautiful girl.”
You didn’t know what to say at that moment, so you just quietly sobbed into his shoulder.
#bts#bangtan boys#bangtan seonyeondan#bts fanfction#bts fanfic#bts reactions#bts reaction#bts fluff#bts crack#bts angst#kim seokjin#jin#bts jin#min yoongi#suga#bts suga#jung hoseok#jhope#hobi#kim namjoon#rm#bts rm#rap monster#rap mon#park jimin#jimin#kim taehyung#v#bts v#jeon jungkook
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SFW Alphabet | Tsukishima Hajime
Here he comes, my favorite boy. You can check tosikowrites tag for more. Warning: there’s a lot under the cut.
A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)
Showing affection is something Tsukishima forgot how to do. It is almost foreign to him after what happened with Igogusa, after years of war and service under the leadership of Tsurumi. He knows exactly how easily happiness can be acquired and how easily it can be taken away, by unknown forces and by someone close to him.
An obvious sign of interest would be gratuitous help that Tsukishima offers to the person. When everything falls out of hand, he is right there to catch. Tsukishima does little errands in between taking care of Koito’s whims and bigger ones he saves for later to look at them closer. He genuinely enjoys helping them and seeing how grateful smile lights up their face.
Another one would be small gestures like walking them home after dark or bringing unpretentious little thingies that made Tsukishima think of them. If he goes to the market and notices their favorite candy, he will surely buy it. At times, it gets more serious. For example, if they wanted nice new shoes, Tsukishima will save money up from his sergeant's salary to afford the best pair in the shop.
Letters. So many letters. A soldier's life presents a gift in the form of partings, and in order to somehow compensate frequent goodbyes and innumerable kilometers between them, Tsukishima puts his heart and soul into letters. They may not be that frequent, and he keeps crossing out words that seem too sweet, but it is the very intimate way to maintain the precious bond.
B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)
Local mom-friend that takes care of you when you are suffering the worst hangover and saves your ass from last night’s consequences. Tsukishima puts all the effort to shield his best friend from problems, and if they are inevitable, he has a clear plan of actions how to fix unfixable and repair unrepairable.
Responsibility is another of his distinctive features. When it comes to school or work, he is second to none: Tsukishima is up to help with difficult tasks or take on the role of mentor. He is amazingly good teacher, albeit strict at times, that has the ability to explain the most confusing concepts better than that Indian guy on YouTube.
Is it worth mentioning that he is a devoted friend? It doesn’t matter what happened between him and his friend in the past, Tsukishima always comes back to them. No distance, no time, no other people are able to make him turn around and leave a friend to the mercy of fate.
Probably the friend you think you know well but suddenly it turns out he has more dark secrets than the most deranged madlad from your fried group. Also, you can’t judge him. Only accept. You know if Tsukishima had to do somthing, he had his reasons you are not allowed to question.
C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)
Yeah, of course, but he hasn’t cuddled anyone in years (young whining Koito that craves reassurance and family warmth doesn’t count) so it may be awkward. It is very likely that he will simply move over, apologize, and wait for the next time when he is more comfortable with all of love dumped on him. Tsukishima doesn’t care about positions and will adapt to the partner’s desires whether they want to spoon him or be kept on his lap. Cuddles are combined with back rubs, massages, head pats, even hair brushing and braiding if they are not afraid of tangles.
D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)
Both wants to and is afraid of settling down by himself, left alone with his loved one. Over the years spent in the army, he lost the sense of life’s fullness, and now Tsukishima drifts freely without a specific direction. Military is where he belongs to, it gives him purpose and reason to exist, and as time passed, he forgot how to live outside the barracks. Gentle persuasion would be the best option to assure Tsukishima in his ability of living normal life. Maybe, owning a small house overlooking rocky shore and sparkling ocean isn’t a bad idea, he just isn’t ready to accept it. Both great in cooking and cleaning, prefers to do the latter.
E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)
He is visibly uncomfortable when confronted about working late and postponing previously such long-awaited dates. Tsukishima is lost for words since he can find none that could describe how sorry he is. Inner guilt forced him to defer this moment until the last minute: breaking-up right before another trip (the further the better) will make it impossible to crawl back to them when loneliness overtakes him again. Overthinks a lot. Nevertheless, Tsukishima finally speaks out in an even calm voice, as if he is reporting to his superiors, apologizes, and bows low. So low that chances of meeting their surprised gaze drop to zero. He quickly retreats without giving them the opportunity to say anything in return. Drinks more than usual during the trip, makes Koito nervous with unfriendly passive-aggressive aura he carries for weeks.
F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)
This is the part where Rick Astley’s Never Gonna Give You Up starts playing because this is the man who fits all of the chorus lines perfectly. Tsukishima grows attached to the loved one fast and after this he is physically unable to think romantically of anyone else. Igogusa’s memory is another proof of his deep, borderline painful commitment. One year or year and a half is enough time for Tsukishima to start looking at municipal government office with certain interest. He takes marriage very seriously though, he dates for it, not for entertainment.
G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)
He is what a soldier is trained to be (so not so gentle in physical plane) but you don’t have to dig deep to see Tsukishima’s hidden soft core. In everyday life, he's an absolute sweetheart. All he really wants in a relationship is to love and be loved, that’s all. Tsukishima doesn't even have a lurking desire, intrusive thoughts of messing with the feelings unlike some individuals. Soft, soft, soft, and he doesn’t deny it.
H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)
It feels like a child’s hug: tight and unhesitant, with his hands wrapped around person’s waist and face buried in their neck. Light blush covers Tsukishima’s cheeks and he can’t stop smiling. If his partner is smaller than he is, Tsukishima will pick them up, and if they are taller he will try to hug them as if to almost hide in their arms. Picking him up will result in embarrassed exclamations but Tsukishima actually enjoys their attention.
I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)
One year is the limit. Less time than 6 months feels a little bit rushed to him and more than one year seems like an unnecessary delay. Tsukishima is expectedly sincere in his confession; he doesn’t hold back and wriggle because of how confident he is in his feelings. It is not a long rehearsed monologue but a stream of consciousness, full of confessions how he likes their shining eyes, how their clumsiness makes his day a little brighter, how their whole character amazes him from day to day. The only thing that can possibly overwhelm Tsukishima is the overthinking of their possible negative reaction. One of his biggest fears is to appear too persistent with the confession and scare them away so he puts a lot of thought in choosing the right time and the right place.
J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)
Obviously expects his partner to reject any cheeky suitor since he understands that their natural beauty is hard to resist. If they choose to accept stranger’s attentions, Tsukishima feels insulted and betrayed. Trust is a key factor in the relationship so such irresponsible attitude towards the loyalty huts him deeply and rises suspicion of oncoming break-up. Also, being in limbo and asking himself whether they want to be with him or not takes a toll on Tsukishima’s psyche. He becomes more withdrawn and taciturn and spends more time busy at work with trying to distract himself from intrusive thoughts.
If his partner decides to go around and flirt, Tsukishima will be overtaken with anger. He is furious. The glass in his hand sonorously cracks under the pressure while he watches them ungodly teasing unsuspecting men. He doesn’t start a fight or scream at his loved one and keeps everything inside. It is enough for him to witness such behavior two times to leave them without long explanations and quarrels.
K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)
A bit inept and greedy. Tsukishima tends to defer the kiss until his partner is ready to nicely ask him for one but after that he is completely in for a ride. The last time he kissed anyone is unknown-how-many-years-ago so it is natural for Tsukishima to be a little bit sloppy and eager. Lip kisses are golden classic and fits his character perfectly. It takes a good push to shift things in more intimate direction though. The most efficient way to do it is to play on Tsukishima's weaknesses: the back of his neck as well as earlobes and straight line down the spine. A few gentle touches and hardened composed soldier melts down like an ice on the sun.
L = Little ones (How are they around children?)
If you want to calm down a crying baby just give it to Tsukishima. It seems like kids feel sympathy when looking at his tired face and try to cause little trouble so as not to disappoint him even more. Smart children clearly amuse him, and Tsukishima strongly encourages their desire for knowledge, their curiosity and ambitions. Every now and then sudden thoughts about starting his own family pop up in his head but Tsukishima is kind of indecisive. Right now he is not ready to take on such responsibility, but in the future, dream of starting a big family could become a reality.
M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)
It is impossible to catch Tsukishima in the morning during work week and it still isn’t that easy on the weekend. Insomnia keeps him up at nights so his day can start a long before his partner opens their eyes. On such nights, he goes for a lonely walk around the block and, on his return, prepares a light breakfast for two. There are also rare moments when Tsukishima falls asleep right before first sunbeam reaches earth. Those are the days when he sleeps in and refuses to get up from the bed, trapping his loved one in tight cuddle. Nuzzling into their neck, Tsukishima mutters that he needs five more minutes and he will definitely let go but five minutes turn into half of hour, then hour, and he never fulfills the promise.
N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)
A great lover of a quiet pastime he is, Tsukishima likes to spend evenings playing intellectual games like shogi and reading whatever comes to hand. One of his favorite activities is resting his head on the partner’s knees and listening to them reading aloud haikus or other classic Japanese works. On warm summer nights, Tsukishima likes to go to the river or lake for skinny dipping since most onsens are separated by gender. Even if there is one that is not, he would still prefer more secluded place where there is no reason to worry about onlookers. If his partner wants to something more active and social, they will have to choose something not too overwhelming. Small friend gatherings are okay but huge parties drain the rest of the life from him.
O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)
Here is the thing: to pull personal information out of Tsukishima you have to know what to ask. You can’t say “Tell me how you got into army” and expect a little frank story, no. It would take a whole “It seems you and Lieutenant Tsurumi share some story” or something even more shifty to make him open up about this topic. It doesn’t mean that he is trying to hide something on purpose, but it definitely means he never had anyone to trust. Any claims that he is too secretive offend Tsukishima too.
P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)
Utter unshakable calmness in the middle of 7th Division craziness, either way because he has seen too much shit already or because he has no active neurons to react to it (insomnia, your know?). As a person who puts up with brain-juice leaking leader, spoiled naive brat in the dawn of youthful maximalism, mentally unstable fan boy, and mutilated lack-all on the verge of breakdown, he won’t even pay attention to small inconveniences. In quarrels, Tsukishima always appeals to rationality and perfectly avoids any escalation of the conflict. You have to ruin his life for him to snap, and when he does, someone’s neck will snap too.
Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)
Pays attention to them whenever around but forgets most of the stuff easily. Tsukishima only remembers one or two specific details that he can use practically in the future, like what their allergies are or what they want for the birthday. For the rest he has a small personal page in the notebook where he writes down little things that definitely will not stay in his memory for a long time. His writing comes in the code of abbreviations and numbers to make sure nobody pries into his personal life.
R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)
Used to be the one responsible in the group, he would probably remember moments where he was the one that had to be cared for. For once Tsukishima came down with a high fever and unbearable weakness, and it was a moment when his loved one jumped into merciless care-mode. He was put into bed with three pillows, teacup waiting for him on the nightstand, and even the most determined statements that he needed to finish some things have been met with indisputable refusal. They spun around him bringing medicine, food, and water whole day so Tsukishima couldn’t stop blaming himself for the helplessness. At the same time, his feelings of gratitude and love intensified with every thoughtful gesture so by the end of unfortunate leave Tsukishima almost regretted returning to his usual hectic life.
S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)
Previous experiences with both romantic relationship and role of sergeant-nanny taught Tsukishima one thing: danger is always there, even if it is not visible to the naked eye. A passerby can hide a loaded gun under his clothes, so there is not point to talk about hired killers, invisible diseases, natural disasters etc. Based on the above it is natural for Tsukishima be on the alert. He wants to know where his partner is going and with whom, warns them about his gut feeling if he has one, and, of course, intervenes at the sight of real danger without any second thought. Like this man would give up his life for a person who deserves it. Not at any point in time, Tsukishima expects his partner to protect him but if it happens, he will be extremely mad at them and himself too.
T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)
Tsukishima has a low social battery for the most of the time so he has to manage energy according to importance of the affairs. There is always a little bit more saved for his loved one, but you can’t really tell that he puts all of the effort into relationship. If work affairs did not suck the remnants of happiness from him, Tsukishima may stop and get a nice box of sweets or fruits. For special dates like their Birthday or anniversary, he saves money for a worthwhile present: for a female lover he would probably go for a beautiful silk tenga obi with celebratory motives or handmade jewelry box, and for male lover he would choose chopsticks with personalized engraving or exquisite lacquerware. Performs household chores well, although sometimes he has to be reminded about their existence.
U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)
Although Tsukishima is a stronghold of common sense, - he always keeps everything to himself, puts on a poker face, - once person gets on his nerves, they will see the worst side of him. Thanks to the famous reliability, Tsukishima learns where person’s weak spots are fast and he can easily hit them where it hurts with bold spiteful words.
Puts work over relationships. Setting to serve the homeland faithfully and unquestioningly rooted deep in his mind and now it is impossible to re-educate this shabby sergeant. Even in serious relationship, Tsukishima remembers about his duty as a soldier and as a son of Japan so he takes a lot of additional paperwork home.
As someone who used to be ordered around, Tsukishima still needs a guidance in the relationship. It takes a lot of thinking and weighing the pros and cons for him to make a decision but the partner’s opinion will be crucial nevertheless. In critical situations, he is perfectly oriented, but in a steady life? Not so much.
V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)
Cares enough to wash, dry, and iron his own uniform and brush up muddy toecaps of own boots. Tsukishima tries to blend in with surrounding, not to pop up, so he keeps his style in muted neutral colors (that applies to both clothes and shoes) and prefers strict uniform to anything else. In his view, moderation is the sister of style so the only thing that can make him pull off fancy apparel would be direct order from the First Lieutenant Tsurumi. Indifferent to how people perceive his physical appearance as well.
W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)
If his partner decides it is a time to part the ways, he acts maturely, thanks them for the great moments that they shared and everything they achieved together. Even though Tsukishima is hurting, he keeps bitter reproaches to himself, knowing that lashing out won’t do anything good. It is not his style anyway. Few weeks need to pass by before the hurricane of emotions settles down and their image ceases to be associated with a romantic relationship. Instead, Tsukishima faces them again with a proposal to start everything from scratch. Leave everything behind and become friends. Just friends. No hard feelings. Honestly, being close to them is everything he asks for. If they decline, Tsukishima won’t bother them again, but if they agree, he won’t ever leave their side.
Their death is a punch to the gut. It is like Igogusa’s disappearing all over again, but more painful, more deliberate, more distinct. To say that he is heartbroken is to say nothing at all: division soldiers notice how gloomy their sergeant has become, they feel uneasy under his sharp look. It feels like one wrong word and he will snap. Now Tsukishima’s nihilism turns into total indifference to existence: he puts himself in danger just to see how long he can last.
X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)
Another one who has a great singing voice. He never ever sings in barracks or anywhere near his comrades but Tsukishima’s voice is charming: he has a sweet soothing bass-baritone that sounds the best in lullabies or ballads. Even though his partner may never hear a proper serenade, they may catch him quietly singing to their child instead of reading old fairytales.
Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)
Tsukishima can tolerate A LOT and turns blind eye to person’s bad habits for the sake of avoiding unnecessary stress. Therefore, there isn’t much that irritates him and even less that can drive him on the walls.
Grubbiness is one of the habits that Tsukishima cannot ignore. Clothes scattered around the room, unwashed dishes, and heaps of unnecessary junk get on his nerves but he keeps composure and never complains.
Loud noises, including chewing, smacking, munching, are annoying too but Koito’s constant monkey screeching desensitized him to the degree when Tsukishima takes a deep breath, prays to gods not to go apeshit, and goes on with his day.
Oh, he also hates summer. Hot temperatures force Tsukishima to soak in the bath three times more often than in winter or any other season.
Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)
Those bags under his eyes are Gucci Yoshida. Well, okay, Yoshida was established a little bit later but this is not so important. Tsukishima suffers from insomnia for who knows how long, and no doctor can help him. On sleepless nights, he just sits by the window and reads in the faint candlelight, still cherishing the hope of falling asleep in the morning. After moving in with his loved one, nothing really changed beside Tsukishima changing his habitual reading spot from armchair by the window to a more secluded place in another room. He doesn’t want to wake them up by accident.
In general, Tsukishima sleeps around 3-5 hours per day with occasional awakenings during the night. His sleep is shallow and filled with disturbing dreams in which shapeless shadows haunt him, driving him south of Mukden, where many of the Japanese brethren found eternal peace.
#golden kamuy#golden kamuy headcanon#golden kamuy imagine#hajime tsukishima#tsukishima hajime#tosikowrites
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Of Punishments and Rewards
Pairing: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara | Rating: M
Summary: The citizens of Konoha have long grown used to (and frankly bored of) the often destructive spectacle that is Madara and Tobirama screaming their lungs out at each other in the market district. During one such clash, however, Madara suffers an accidental concussion and proceeds to not-so-accidentally flirt with, grope, and expose his secret affair with none other than the white-haired Senju he's supposed to hate.
Now this has the whole village intrigued.
Read Chapter 1 on AO3 or continue under the cut :3 Ko-fi info is in the header!
The citizens of Konoha have long grown used to (and frankly bored of) the often destructive spectacle that is Madara and Tobirama screaming their lungs out at each other in the market district. So when today the Uchiha Clan Head, foul mood and all, stomps towards an unsuspecting Tobirama (who really isn’t bothering anybody and seems to be busy enough picking out oranges) and starts shrieking at the top of his lungs about some manner of ‘experimental bullshit' crawling out of Tobirama's 'death trap of a lab,' most of the passersby find themselves stifling a yawn.
Another day, another bout of fires and flooding from the two village founders whose hate for each other hasn’t diminished in the slightest in the two years of Konoha’s existence.
Grown stronger, if anything.
“BECAUSE I AM NOT,” Madara bellows at the end of his first public rant of the day (though surely not the last), “GOING TO STAND FOR YOUR BRAZEN INCOMPETENCE ANYMORE, SENJU!”
Of course, Madara accusing Tobirama of incompetence is also nothing new, although it is common knowledge that it’s the latter who often has to get the Hokage and his best friend out of ridiculously foolish debacles.
(Konoha still remembers how the two godlike shinobi somehow stumbled into quite the deep hole intended for garbage disposal and in their drunken stupor ended up forgetting that they could have simply jumped outーwhat with their immense chakra reserves no less. Tobirama, naturally, had been exceptionally cross that day.)
“Incompetence?” Tobirama only scoffs in answer. “Whatever problem you have with how I handle my duties, Uchiha, pales in comparison to the damage your complete lack of logic deals to society.”
“You shut the fuck up,” Madara snaps, fists clenching and chakra becoming visible alreadyーa faintly shimmering fire-cloak upon his form. That really never bodes well for the market’s survival. “And study the logic behind proper fucking sleep so your complete lack of sense and self-restraint doesn’t lead to more dangerous fucking jutsu that spiral out of fucking control!”
This does perk up a few ears; after all, what novelty of Tobirama Senju’s could appear more dangerous than his summoning of an undead army that past Obon Festival?
“I am conducting a perfectly safe study,” Tobirama says, though Madara doesn’t seem like he believes him at all. “And not of a jutsu but a living being. Though it’s unsurprising your handful of brain matter failed to distinguish the two.”
“A living being with nine godsdamned tails made out of enough chakra to wipe out the whole of Fire Country?!”
This perks up a few more ears but seeds no panic; it’s thanks to Tobirama, after all, that most of Konoha has seen much, much worse.
“It's a perfectly docile and friendly chakra fox,” Tobirama insists, crossing his arms. “Now for the love of all things holy and unholy, stop your shrieking.” He glances at the mostly disinterested crowd. “You’re embarrassing me. And yourself, though I doubt there’s any room to sink lower than you have.”
“I will fucking destroy you, you worthless piece of shit!” The crackles of a budding Katon flicker around Madara’s fists. “Now go and take care of your fucking experiment-living-chakraーwhatever bullshit, or I will fight you and there will be no remains left for your brother to cry over.”
Tobirama glares, straightening to his full height which has him towering above Madara’s bristling frame. “How so much fight can fit in so little a man,” he sneers, “I will never understand.”
Three things happen in quick succession.
Naturally, Madara attacks. A massive raging wall of fire sizzles straight at Tobirama, who matches Madara’s wild toothy grin with a smirk as he jumps out of the way with the usual easeーonly for Madara to charge at him, fist coated with white-hot flames, and unsurprisingly, Tobirama dodges yet again.
What does come as a surprise is Madara’s slight... miscalculation, it seems, as his eyes linger a bit too long in the general direction of Tobirama’s thighs for some reason, and he’s just slow enough to miss the giant crate of oranges that falls from a panicking store owner’s shelf.
“Madara-sama!” the salesman cries as the legendary Uchiha collides with the box headfirst and drops limply to the ground. “F-forgive me,” the poor man stutters, appearing quite a bit more worried about Tobirama than Madara’s squirming form.
After all, neither of the two are happy when their fights are interrupted before they can destroy at least one building, and as expected, the Senju in question frowns and visibly deflates.
“Madara?” Tobirama asks, tentative, banishing the spikes of ice he’s conjured with his jutsu.
“Mmm,” Madara articulates from the ground, face scrunched in pain as he squints at the sky as if it’s personally offended him. “Mm-wha?..”
In a yet unseen show of kindness, Tobirama walks up to him and kneels to check on Madara’s condition. Quite a few stares shift in their direction. Shouldn’t Tobirama be inclined to leave the Uchiha to suffer?
Apparently not.
“Madara? Can you hear me?” Receiving no answer, Tobirama coaxes him to sit up as he checks over his head. Though unwounded, it does appear he’s seriously concussed as he starts slurring nonsense and pointing at a part of the crowd mumbling something about ‘fute birdsies.’ “Listen, IーAnija will be really upset if you’re seriously hurt, so can you tell meー”
Madara slaps a gloved hand roughly over Tobirama’s mouth. Another uncharacteristic move that provokes many a frown. The pair usually avoid skin to skin contact religiously, even when fighting.
“Your lips,” Madara slurs, eyes unfocused as he stares dazedly at his supposed enemy, “could putーbe put to... much better use than talking.”
“W-what?” Tobirama stammers, shoving the hand away and scrambling to his feet.
“I said your lips,” Madara tries to clarify, before Tobirama cuts him off, “Shut the fuck up, you moron!” he grits through his teeth, extending a hand to the Uchiha as he flops back down to lie on the ground.
“And get up," Tobirama orders, "now. I’m taking you to Anija. Concussions are tricky to heal and I might not be able to avoid leaving lasting effects.”
Madara smirks, and for some reason that prompts a look of horror to settle on Tobirama’s face. For good reason, as the onlookers discover.
“It’s always up for you, Tobirama,” Madara’s slurring is mixed with a bit of a stupid-sounding drawl as he positively ogles Tobirama, eyes once again lingering a tad lower than appropriate. “The question is if you wanna play.”
“Madara!” Tobirama hisses, casting death glares at the crowds now circled around them as one unified and now definitely intrigued mob. “Stop this foolishness right this instantー”
“Stop isn’t our safe-word, Tobiー”
“ーand take my fucking hand!”
“I’d rather have it wrapped around myー”
“MADARA!” Tobirama is trembling with fury at this point, chakra radiating killing intent enough for shinobi and civilian alike to feel it wash over them. The people gathered only scuffle closer, disappointed that the rest of Madara’s sentence gets drowned out by Tobirama’s shout and their own collective gasp. Tobirama pinches the bridge of his nose. “Not. Here.”
“I kno-ow,” Madara whines, finally grasping for Tobirama’s hand only to use it to yank him down once he gets ahold of it. “This hand indefーit definitely needs to be reaching a lot lower.”
“Madara, gods fucking dammit,” Tobirama growls as he wrests himself from Madara hold, “people are staring.”
To be fair, the self-proclaimed honorable and pure-hearted citizens of Konoha make an effort to pretend they aren’t gapingーwhich really isn’t an easy task though, because the display is turning out to be more exciting than any of the village-wide festivities to date.
“Oh?” Madara seems to be trying to raise one eyebrow but ends up skewing his face into an awkward frown at best. “If yesterday’s anything to go by, you don’t mind a little voytriloquism yourself, koibito.”
Another round of gasps follows as Tobirama blanches, mouth slightly agape and lips trembling. Someone helpfully shouts, “Do you mean voyeurism, Uchiha-sama?”
“Yes-yes!” Madara pipes up, still squirming helplessly on the ground. “Voyagerism. That.”
“Uchiha,” Tobirama glowers, a sheen of blue energy wrapping around his limbs as his ire escalates, “I am literally begging you toー”
“Didn’t get enough earlier, eh?” Madara leers, finally managing to wriggle into a half-sitting position, sending a few oranges rolling on the ground. Intrigued and unperturbed by Tobirama’s spluttering (and what a strange sight it is, to see the usually composed Senju at such a loss for words), Madara picks up two of the fruits and proceeds to shock the bystanders to the core once more, “You know, they say fresh squeezed oranges are good for you in the morning, but I think your fresh squeezed diー”
“MADARA, NO!” Tobirama roars, this time quite evidently to drown out Madara’s words.
“Madara, yes,” the Uchiha moans, “that’s all I remember you saying to me this morning.” A few desperate “Kai” resound in the area as Madara Uchiha incarnate starts licking the oranges in his hands. He keeps eye contact with Tobirama all the while as he sucks on them, shameless and wanton, swirling his tongue over the fruits with such wanton enthusiasm one might think him a common harlot. “Remind you of anything, To-bi-ra-ma?”
Needless to say, the world plunges into chaos. Choruses of cheers and wolf whistles, sounds of both affront and confusion erupt from the bystanders as quite a few women rush to cover their husbands’ eyes lest they require the same astonishing level of skill from them.
Tobirama, meanwhile, seems to have finally regained his ability to act, if not speak, and proceeds to grab Madara by his collar and drag him into a wobbly stance, slapping a hand bathed in faint green glow against the Uchiha’s forehead.
"Get permanent brain damage for all I care.” Tobirama gives Madara a pretty hard shake. “Now will you stop fucking talking?”
"You don’t tell me what to do, Senju,” Madara grumbles, looking a bit steadier on his feet now even as his voice still sounds a bit shaky. “And how did I get here?”
Tobirama ignores him, directing one last glower at the excited crowd as he commands, “Don’t you dare speak a word of this to the Hokage,” before disappearing into thin air with Madaraーhis secret lover, something Konoha still can’t wrap its collective head aroundーin tow.
Granted, the younger Senju must have sensed his brother’s approach because the next second none other than Hashirama steps into the market with the usual wide grin on his face, flowers sprouting on each patch of ground he steps on. The crowd stills and grows silent but for a few moments as Tobirama’s order rings clear in their minds, and yet,
“What happened here?” Hashirama asks in childlike confusion.
In just a handful of moments, it proves too much of a temptation for Konoha prolific rumor mill to resist.
“Madara was doing what in front of my Otouto?!”
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Book Review - Summer Summary 2020
I didn’t get around to doing an individual post for the books I read in June/July/August, so I decided to choose a dozen that I read over the summer... I’d separate the wheat from the chaff for you so to speak. Though like you’re about to find out, that doesn’t necessarily mean they were all good by any means...
Crave
My girlfriend got this for me to “tide me over until Midnight Sun”. Between you and me, I think she was taking the piss. Anyway, Crave is very... standard fare paranormal YA school romance with the added flare of being written by an adult erotica writer, meaning the rhythm and tone of this novel is fucking bonkers. If you want to read the novel without reading the novel, just take Twilight and the entire Vampire Academy series, shove them in a blend, and force down the sludge you get from that. Normal Average Girl Goes To Secret School In Alaska For Vampire, Werewolves and Dragons. That’s this book. It is so big and so so so bad. I finished it out of spite, please don’t do that to yourself. Unless you are really craving (hurr hurr) some top tier trashy paranormal romance, in which case... no judgment.
The Last Firehawk
The Last Firehawk is a Scholastic “Branches” series, written for beginning readers (grade 1-3ish, depending on the child’s reading level). It has short stories, big text, and awesome pictures on every page. Guys. I unironically am adoring this series. It’s simple and is introducing children to a number of classic elements in the fantasy quest genre, but it is so charming. Friends Tag and Skyla discover a firehawk egg, and species that is supposed to have disappeared long ago. When Blaze hatches from it, the three are tasked with going out and finding the magical ember stone which was hidden long ago by the firehawks and which could be used to defeat the evil vulture Thorn and his dark magic... I read the first two books to second graders who ate it up and read the next four books because I personally wanted to continue the series. If you have young readers in your life (or just want a fun kid adventure) then please try these they’re the literary equivalent of nibbling on a chocolate chip cookie.
Lupin III: World’s Most Wanted #3
All the kind people that still follow my tumblr and haven’t tried to murder me because of my Lupin obsession are not going to be surprised by this one. I finally read one of the manga for this series and honestly I’m delighted. Somehow even hornier than the show, but hilariously funny. I felt like I was reading a more adult version of Spy Vs Spy. It’s a bunch of short, individual bits/adventures with lots of visual gags and an artstyle that is really different and delightful.
River of Teeth / Taste of Marrow (American Hippo series)
I’ve talked about River of Teeth before, but I finally finished the American Hippo duology and need to sing its praise. This is an alternate history series composed of two novellas that explore the question What would have happened if the States had decided to import hippos as livestock...? Anyways, my pitch for you: queer hippo cowboys. That’s all it took for me to read it. You have a gay gunslinger who loves his hippo to death, a nonbinary explosives-expert / poisoner who is the main love interest, a fat con artist who spoils her hippo and is the only voice of reason in this entire series, and a latina mother-to-be who is the scariest assassin in the entire series and is obviously scheming. The four of them are brought together on a job to deal with the Mississippi’s feral hippo problem.
IT’S A QUEER HIPPO COWBOY HEIST NOVEL GUYS I DON’T KNOW WHY I’M STILL TALKING AND YOU HAVEN’T JUST GONE TO READ THIS YET.
Petals to the Metal (The Adventure Zone series)
The graphic novel adaptation to the McElroy family’s DND podcast The Adventure Zone. Most of you are probably aware of this? It’s a great adaptation, it hits all the important beats, shows off the characters really well, and still gets lots of good gags in even while condensing entire arcs into single book stories. This one is probably my favourite so far just because Petals to the Metal was one of my favourite arcs in the show... but you can also see how the art has improved and the chaos of the race is fun to see drawn out.
If you like The Adventure Zone but haven’t tried the graphic novels yet -- would recommend! If you’ve always wanted to listen to The Adventure Zone but don’t have time for such a long series or struggle to focus on podcasts then pick up the first book of this series (Here There Be Gerblins) and try reading it! It really is an enjoyable adaptation.
Pony to the Rescue (Pony Pals series)
I continued my April/May theme of reading old-school chapter book series to combat Covid Brain Fry, so I picked up a few Pony Pals books. I read these as a kid and always enjoy them -- there’s just something so appealing to a child about having a horse. It gives your child characters a level of independence and ability to explore that you wouldn’t get otherwise. These books definitely read young, but they were nostalgic to revisit.
Small Spaces
A really cool middle grade horror novel I picked up. Maybe it’s because I live around a lot of corn fields, but farm/scarecrow themed horror absolutely does it for me. One evening, after seeing a woman try to destroy a strange, old book, eleven year old Ollie doesn’t stop to think, instead stealing the book and running. That’s how she becomes wrapped up in the strange, sinister story of a cursed family and creature called the Smiling Man that seems to live out in the foggy fields. While unsettling, Ollie tries to remind herself that it’s just a story... but this becomes more challenging when her school bus breaks down one day out their own set of fields, and a fog is rolling in...
“Avoid large spaces. Stick to small.”
Snot Girl #1 - #2
A Canadian graphic novel series by the creator of the Scott Pilgrim series! I love his work so I decided to give Snotgirl a try, even though it’s not generally my genre. I’m glad I did! First book took a while for me to get into, but by the time I hit the second I was really wrapped up in the mystery and character development. Snotgirl is about Lottie, a self-consumed fashion blogger whose biggest struggles are dealing with her allergies, frustration with her fellow-blogger friends, and how entirely her self-esteem is tied to her “beauty” and how people view her. But everything shifts in strange and horrifying ways when Lottie starts taking a new allergy medication, meets a new friend... and then witnesses that girl’s death. Or does she?
Seriously, or does she? I have no idea, I need to read the third book. This book is full of intrigue, complicated relationships, murder (or not?), and a healthy dose of magical realism to keep you guessing. If you like slice-of-life, crime, and abstract reality then this series is world a try. Plus the art is gorgeous.
Summer Wars #1 - #2
I recently rewatched Summer Wars (still one of my favourite movies) and decided to read the two-book manga adaptation. It was a really neat little adaptation. The creator of the movie gave the writer free range to tweak things to fit better in a manga format, which means some movie elements were allowed to fade into the background, whereas other aspects were fulled into the forefront and fleshed out to a greater degree. It was very cool, it kept the same story but gave you new things to think about which I wasn’t expecting. Reading this as a stand alone works just fine, but honestly if you’ve never watched the movie Summer Wars you should give it a try! It’s a great mix of slice-of-life, sprawling family dynamics that I relate to a little too well, cyber adventures, and fantasy. Super feel good.
This One Summer
Okay, last graphic novel, I swear. This One Summer was... weird and intense. It’s a coming-of-age Canadian graphic novel that follows a pair of pre-teens who meet up like they do every year at their family’s summer cottages. You see them both in the awkward phases between childhood and growing up to become teenagers, as they’re confronted with things like maturity, friendship, self-esteem, family problems, and sexuality. A beautiful read, but probably the heaviest out of all the books on my list.
Wild Thornberrys Novelization
I rewatched The Wild Thornberrys movie with my girlfriend earlier this year, and decided I wanted to hunt down the chapter book novelization because I’m kind of a sucker for novelizations. Honestly, this was about what you would expect from the era. 90s/00s novelizations, especially young novelizations, are generally just a transcript of the movie without much thought or effort put into them to make them anything but. That’s what this was. It was fine, and it really let me revisualize the entire movie, but honestly you’re probably better off just rewatching the movie unless you also really deeply love The Wild Thornberrys.
The Willoughbys
I saw that Netflix had done a funky looking adaptation of The Willoughbys and I decided I needed to read the book first before watching the movie. This was a little bizarre, I’m still not sure how I feel about it. Over all, I think it was a net-positive experience. It’s an obvious satire on classic children’s novels, especially the likes of Mary Poppins (real Mary Poppins, not the Disney version) and while a little heavy-handed, it does a Series of Unfortunate Events vibe that redeems it. The story is about a group of horrible children (The Ruthless Willoughbys) who decide they are sick of their parents and would rather become Worth Orphans... and to do that, they’re going to have to dispose of their inconvenient parents, obviously. Conveniently their parents are also sick of having children and decide to do away with them as well. The Willoughbys sets up three (or four?) different subplots that are gradually woven together through a series of schemes and exploits. It’s definitely more ruthless (hurr hurr) than the Netflix version, which tried to make the children more sympathetic, and in some ways I think that’s a definite point in the novel’s favour. I’m not sure I would go out of my way to recommend it, but it was a fun romp if you want something short and off the wall (and a lot more fleshed out than the Netflix version).
#book review#book reviews#the willoughbys#the wild thornberrys#lupin iii#scott pilgrim#snotgirl#bryan lee o'malley#this one summer#small spaces#pony pals#crave#the last firehawk#river of teeth#taste of marrow#american hippo#summer wars#petals to the metal#taz#novels#manga#graphic novels#children literature#kid lit#chatter
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