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jungshookz · 3 years

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maybe, she can drive his car; mechanic!yoongi

➺ pairing; mechanic!yoongi x spoiledbrat!y/n

➺ genre; mechanic!yoongiverse!! sfw!! honk honk humour!! some suggestive behaviour because this is mechanic!yoongi and his y/n we're talking about!! the green-eyed monster inside of y/n is awoken after being dormant for so long and she's ready to bite some heads off

➺ wordcount; 11.6k

➺ summary; yoongi's ex is back in town for a visit and you'd be lying if you said you weren't slightly envious of a) how knowledgeable she is about stupid cars and b) how well she gets along with literally everyone.

➺ what to expect; "right, about that- i know i was supposed to come over for dinner tonight but- listen, i don't know what lisa did but obviously she's got a lot of connections now and the shop has literally never been this busy before... you understand, don't you?"

➺ currently spinning on the record player; mustang sally (originally by wilson pickett, covered by andrew strong)

(unfortunately i wasn’t able to track down the original maker of this gif but this is where i sourced it from! all credits go to the original creator of course :-))

»»————- 🛠️ ————-««

namjoon usually doesn't pay too much attention to you whenever you're hanging out at the workshop with everyone because of how often you're here, but there's something about the way you're acting today that even he has to admit is oddly very...

cute?

and it's not that you're not cute all the time (because you totally are!!) but it's just that the version of you today in particular is suddenly making him want to go off and find a y/n of his own

"whatcha doing?"

namjoon jolts in surprise when a grimy hand suddenly burrows itself into the warm bag of freshly-popped popcorn that he has cradled to his chest and he scowls before turning his body away slightly

"hey, you're contaminating the popcorn, man-" he huffs, quickly grabbing the mega-sized pack of hand wipes from the desk before plopping it down on the countertop for jungkook, "at least have the decency to wipe your hands before digging into my popcorn- also, i'm watching. duh."

"watching?" jungkook frowns as he sloppily wipes his hands on the front of his shirt, turning to look out the open door, "watching what?"

"yoongi and y/n." namjoon hums, popping a couple of kernels into his mouth with a crunch, "she's been following him around like a little duckling all day."

"mm." jungkook props an elbow up on the counter as he looks towards the two of you before clicking his tongue, "...he must've really given it to her good last night if she's acting like that-"

"okay, now you've ruined the moment-" namjoon frowns, his shoulders dropping slightly before he gestures to you guys, "it's sweet! this is obviously a wholesome thing-"

"call it what you want, but all i'm trying to say is that good sex makes you do crazy things-" jungkook snorts before aggressively shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth, "cravy phings."

"i'd like to argue that good sex forms a strong emotional bond which explains why there are cartoon hearts currently floating around y/n's head-" namjoon perks up when he notices the way your eyes light up at something yoongi says, "look at her! look at the way she's looking at him!"

"oh, please." jungkook tuts, "that dopey look on her face is telling me that the only thing on her mind is yoongi bending her over the hood of that car and just ramming-"

"namjoon and jungkook are arguing again." you point out, turning to look towards the office just in time to see namjoon throw a handful of popcorn at jungkook only for him to open his mouth and chomp wildly at the air to get some into his mouth

"jungkook probably said something stupid, as per usual." yoongi snorts, leaning over to lock the hood of the car into place before pulling away and taking a look at the situation, "now, let's see what we have going on here..."

when namjoon told him that this was a brake master cylinder repair he immediately felt all the excitement leave his body

he hates doing brake master cylinder repairs

all the parts are so small and the handiwork is super tedious anD the last time he did one of these he took like four hours to get it done

overall it's a pretty boring repair job and as much as he wants to pass it off to one of the others to do, he knows that he's the most skilled with the internal mechanics of a car compared to everyone else which he usually likes to brag about but today he wishes that that wasn't the case

"so what do you have to do?" you frown, stepping over so that you're standing by the side of the car and you're not in yoongi's way, "all the thingies look fine to me."

"well, i actually need to replace the brake master cylinder thingy." yoongi teases, smiling lightly as he points at some kind of container, "there's a leak in the seals, which is pretty common since they wear out after a few years. it should be an easy fix! it'll just take a while, that's all."

luckily, taehyung already took care of the messy part and emptied the fluid from the reservoir for him so now it's time to start the actual repair process

"so does beeper have one of these cylinders in him?" you ask, tilting your head in curiosity

you've never actually taken a look at beeper's under the hood situation before so you wouldn't know

(it feels like he's all naked and exposed whenever yoongi lifts his hood up and you just want to give beeper some privacy, that's all.)

"if beeper didn't have one of these cylinders in him, you wouldn't be able to brake, silly." yoongi snorts, reaching down to unclip the sensor from the reservoir, "see, when you push down on the brake, it pushes a piston through the cylinder and forces hydraulic fluid through the brake lines, which goes to the slave cylinders of each wheel, and then-" he pauses when he notices you've gone all quiet and he turns to see you staring directly at him with a dopey little smile on your face "-what? what'd i say?"

"i like it when you talk shop to me." you giggle quietly, "i mean, i don't understand 98% of the words that come out of your mouth when you do, but i still like it a lot-"

"yeah?" yoongi teases, taking a hand off the edge of the car so he can gesture for you to come closer (and you do, obviously), "you like it when i talk to you about... hm, i don't know..." he feigns cluelessness as he stands up to slink an arm around your waist and bring you towards him while your arms automatically hang loosely around his neck, "how the rubbing of the brake pad against the brake disc generates friction..." he lowers his voice as he sits lightly on the edge of the car and gives your hips a squeeze

"mm, tell me more..." you play along, letting yoongi pull you closer so that you're settled nicely in between his legs

"i don't know, maybe i should save all the good stuff for the bedroom..."

you resist the urge to immediately start whining when you lean in only for yoongi to dodge your kiss, "hey, i like you in these baggy overalls, by the way." he suddenly changes the subject and you feel your cheeks flush when both his hands slide in through the gaps until he's able to grip your bum, "big, big fan of them-"

"you- namjoon and jungkook are right there-" you gawk, "at least have the decency to turn me around so they don't see you fully groping me-"

"they can always just close their eyes or something-"

"okay, you two, break it up-!" you hear namjoon's claps echoing from the office as he tries to get your attention and you immediately turn to look at him with a grin, "god, it's like you sick freaks want to rub it in our faces-"

"okay, i have to get to work so why don't you go and hang out with namjoon in the office?" yoongi stands up, being careful not to hit the top of his head on the hood, "he'll let you play chess on the computer if you ask nicely."

"i thought i was helping you out today!" you frown, grabbing onto his hand before waving it back and forth, "you said i did a good job handing you the tools and stuff. i'm getting better at not mixing all the different types of screwdrivers up!"

yoongi can't help but laugh at how needy you're being and he reaches up with his free hand to adjust his bandana

"i know you wanna help, but i promise you there's nothing exciting about repairing a master cylinder." he hums, reaching up to pinch your cheek playfully, "plus, don't you still have a huge research paper to work on?"

"yeah, but i'd much rather hang out with you..." you pout, yoongi cooing before leaning in to give your pushed-out bottom lip a little kiss

"we can hang out when we're both done with work."

"okay..." you purse your lips before letting go of his hand, "it's your loss. i'm a fantastic helper."

"mhm, you certainly are-" yoongi spins you around before pushing his palm against your lower back to get you to move, "now go and bug namjoon!"

you turn back to glance at yoongi one last time and he sweeps his hands at you to tell you to gO

fine!

it was getting hot in the garage anyway and namjoon always has the aircon blasting in the office

"sorry! only sad, single people are allowed in this area-" namjoon jokes as soon as you step in, gesturing to the office space with a grin, "leave or i'll have security escort you out."

"oh, stop it." you giggle, folding your arms up on the counter and leaning forward, "i keep telling you i'd be more than happy to set you up with one of my friends!!"

"i know, and that's very nice of you to offer, but i just want to find someone organically, you know?" namjoon sighs, leaning back against his chair before looking up at the ceiling wistfully, "being set up with someone doesn't feel like a natural process."

"namjoon thinks he's the main character of a shitty netflix romantic comedy." jungkook mutters, the two of you exchanging low giggles with each other

"well, if no one comes into your life organically you can always let me know and i'll- woah-" you jump in surprise when the sound of a roaring engine suddenly shatters the peaceful atmosphere and you turn around just in time to see a sleek car veering into the shop

you wince and raise a hand to shield your eyes from the bright headlights and you don't get a chance to make the first comment because jungkook beats you to it

(for the record, you were going to talk about how dramatic of an entrance whatever that was)

"oh my god. that is the sexiest car i've ever seen in my entire life." he breathes out, stepping away from the counter so he can stand by the door and get a closer look, "a 1965 mustang. nice."

"fun fact: i was actually thinking about getting a vintage mustang! i wanted an olive green one because i could've named her 'olive' which is super cute-" you nod enthusiastically, looking back and forth between namjoon and jungkook only for them to.,., completely ignore you and continue staring at the glossy mustang sitting out front

"okay, you guys, it's just a car-" you roll your eyes and let out a little snort of disbelief, "this isn't going to change your life or anything-"

a high-heel clad foot steps out of the car and onto the pavement and you immediately recognize the classic red-bottom louboutins

you actually own a pair of them as well but you rarely wear them out because you're always paranoid that you're going to topple over and snap an ankle and that would be completely mortifying

they're six inches tall!!!!

for the record, they look very nice sitting (collecting dust) on your shelf but now you're starting to think that it might be a good idea to wear them out again because this stranger makes it look like walking in them is easy breezy beautiful

"holy shit. is that lisa?" namjoon murmurs, reaching up to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "oh, wow. she..."

"i don't remember her looking like that the last time we saw her." jungkook whistles lowly, "hello, miss manoban."

"lisa- who's lisa?" you frown, tilting your head in curiosity as you watch this mysterious lisa toss her oversized sunglasses into the front seat of the car before slamming the door shut

"uh, she's just one of yoongi's exes- she actually used to work here but-" namjoon reaches over the counter so he can nudge you aside gently to get a better look, "when did she get a vintage mustang?!"

lisa leans down to look at herself in the side mirror, smearing some red lipstick over her pillowy bottom lip before rubbing her lips together and nodding satisfactorily

"guess her car-wrapping business really took off." jungkook hums, his eyes glued to the car

she seems to be moving in slow motion as she takes her hair down and shakes her head back and forth, the three of you tilting your heads at the same time as you watch her in awe

"car-wrapping?" you ask curiously, "she must spend a fortune on wrapping paper and giant bows-"

"no, obviously it's not actual wrapping- like-" jungkook huffs and you resist the urge to bop him over the head at how snappy he's being with you when he already knows you're clueless when it comes to this kind of stuff, "okay, you know how you said that if you ever got a g-wagon for yourself one day that you wanted to make it baby blue just like beeper and also matte? lisa could do that for you."

"oh! in that case, it might be nice to get a business card from her or something-" you make a mental note before shaking your head and turning back around to face namjoon, "hey, so, super casual, can we round back to the whole 'yoongi's ex' thing real quickly because i-"

"yoohoo, boys!" lisa whistles, grinning excitedly when she's suddenly joined by everyone outside one by one, "what, no one thought to roll out the red carpet for me?"

"c'mon, namjoon! let's go say hi to lisa and her vintage 'stang!!" jungkook grins, gesturing for namjoon to hurry before he's darting out the door, "lisa, hey!"

"yeah, okay!!" namjoon gets up from his seat so quickly that he sends his chair rolling back and smacking against the file cabinets, "oh, y/n-! if anyone calls, just send them straight to voicemail-"

"but i-" you don't get a chance to say anything before namjoon's brushing past you and dashing out the door as well

you don't know too much about lisa but obviously she's a pretty big deal around here

it'd probably be good for you to go and introduce yourself instead of awkwardly hanging out in the office by yourself

"hello, lisa. it's very nice to meet you. firm handshake." you mutter to yourself as you step out of the office and head towards the bustling group of boys, "hey, lisa! so great to meet you. firm handshake. hi, girlie-! nope, don't like that one-"

"-in town for business so i thought it'd be nice to swing by and visit my boys." you manage to catch the end of lisa's sentences as you join the boys, trying not to make any sudden movements to catch her attention

"you should've texted one of us or something!" namjoon pulls his phone out of his back pocket, "we could've ordered a pizza for lunch-"

you reach over to give the back of yoongi's jumpsuit a little tug just to get his attention and he glances over his shoulder at you before offering you a teasing smile and reaching back to wiggle his fingers against your stomach

you giggle lightly before swatting his hand away and he turns back to look at lisa

"well, i wanted to surprise you guys!" lisa chirps, tucking her clutch underneath her armpit before clapping her hands together, "i see nothing's changed around here... except for..." you feel your heart drop when she suddenly leans over and looks directly at you, "hello! i don't think we've ever met."

"oh, shoot- sorry, i should've introduced you sooner-" yoongi steps aside so that he isn't blocking you, "lisa, this is y/n! y/n, this is lisa." he smiles, gesturing towards lisa, "my girlfriend." he pauses and quickly shakes his head at his little flub-up, "i mean- lisa, this is y/n, my girlfriend-"

"he's definitely gonna pay for that later." jimin mutters, jungkook snickering before nudging at his side to get him to shut up

"it's super nice to meet you, y/n!" lisa doesn't acknowledge yoongi's error and she steps forward to get closer to you

she's practically towering over you but it's really just because of the stilettos

she turns her head to look at the boys and a second of silence goes by before they realize what she's asking of them and they all scatter in different directions

you give yoongi a look that basically screams S.O.S. and you resist the urge to burst into tears when he gives you a cheery thumbs up in return and trots off to go and do something else

okay

you'll be fine

you have nothing to be nervous about!

this is just yoongi's very hot ex who looks like a million bucks while you'e currently dressed like a giant toddler

it doesn't help that you're wearing what's commonly known as a 'baby tee' under these overalls

"you- yeah, you too-" you chuckle uneasily, giving her a weak handshake before pulling away with a smile, "i'm sorry, i'm a little underdressed-" you pause to gesture to the grubby overalls you have on, "i promise i look better than this most of the time..."

"oh, don't be silly. i just grabbed the first outfit i saw out of my suitcase and threw it on-" she sighs, reaching up to pick some lint off her blazer that you're pretty sure you saw in the most recent YSL spring catalog (in fact, you're pretty sure it's on your to-buy list), "so, what do you do?"

"me? i- uh, well, nothing, at the moment- i'm still studying for my undergraduate degree, so..." you shrug sheepishly, reaching up to scratch the back of your neck

for some reason you can't seem to maintain eye contact with her for more than three seconds at a time

"oh! you're still in school?"

"yeah, i- well, i'm graduating this year, so i'm almost out of school if you think about it that way- but yes. yes, i... am currently a university student, so that's what i'm doing."

"mm, cute! what are you studying?"

"history! i'm a history major and a marine biology minor." you nod, "so... the cold war and... like, sharks. something like that."

"ah, very cool."

to be honest you're not entirely sure if lisa's being sincere or not but you'll take the compliment either way

you can tell she's trying to scope you out - which is fair, because this is the first time you two are meeting and you're currently involved with someone she used to be involved with

"i'm sorry. i'm probably, like, freaking you out right now, aren't i?" lisa snorts, reaching out and placing her hand on your forearm for a split second, "i promise i'm just genuinely curious and i'm not trying to, like, interrogate you or anything. it's super nice to meet you! and honestly- i love the overalls. the little knee patches are adorable."

"oh, thank you..." you smile nervously, reaching down to glance at the mismatched patches of fabric sewn onto the knees of your overalls, "yoongi actually sewed 'em on for me! i usually wear this whenever i'm here because i'm okay with getting it dirty- i, um, i like your blazer! and your heels. and your purse- a chanel clutch is a classic!"

"ooh, someone has an eye for fashion..." lisa winks, raising her clutch and waving it slightly, "maybe after i'm done talking business with yoongi we can talk about gucci's new multicolour line-"

"oh, i have so many thoughts on gucci's new multicolour line!" you gasp, suddenly reignited with a spurt of energy, "honestly the colour scheme is very stabilo highlighters to me but we can talk about it later- i'll just be hanging out in the office, so you can find me there whenever you're ready-"

"perfect!" lisa gives you a thumbs up before pointing over to where yoongi is, "if you'll excuse me, i have to go and talk about boring things with yoongi-"

"mhm!" you watch with a smile as lisa click-clacks off towards yoongi before you spin around on your heels, giving yourself a mental pat on the back for how well you handled that interaction

lisa's actually nicer than you thought she'd be!

obviously the saying don't judge a book by its cover is very applicable here

"so... what'd you think of lisa?" namjoon joins your side before nudging you gently, "she's nice, right?"

"i like her! she seems really cool." you nod enthusiastically, pausing to glance over your shoulder to look at her from behind, "i need to ask her for tips on walking in those louboutins and how not to fall over."

"you know, i must say i'm pleasantly surprised at how you're handling this." namjoon snorts, holding back for a second to let you into the office first before he steps in behind you, "colour me impressed!"

"thank you!" you reach over to pull the lollipop jar towards you before suddenly pausing and looking back over at namjoon with a frown, "hold on a sec, what's that supposed to mean?"

"hm? oh, it's nothing." namjoon scrunches his nose, dismissing you with a flick of his wrist as he takes his seat behind the counter, "i just know that if i was in your shoes and my significant other's very attractive and very successful ex came back i would be a little antsy about it-" namjoon glances up from the computer and his eyes widen in panic when he notices that your eyes have widened in panic, "i- i mean- not that you're not very attractive and very successful- what i'm trying to say is that you have nothing to worry- you and yoongi seem like a very stable couple so-"

"do you think maybe you could tell me a bit about yoongi and lisa?" you interrupt his spiral and you feel yourself starting to get a little fidgety, "because i- i actually don't know anything about that situation-"

namjoon has a point, now that you think about it

lisa is very successful and very attractive and can walk in high heels very elegantly

and what about you?

yesterday you submitted a paper one minute before the deadline because of how much procrastinating you had done

and you haven't worn heels in forever because they just hurt so much

but lisa wouldn't complain about her feet hurting in high heels

lisa could have a hundred blisters and still walk into the room with a beautiful, red-lipped smile

"has he never told you about her?" namjoon frowns, "i feel like every couple should at least have one conversation about their past relationships."

"i think he tried to one time, but i- i dunno, you can't blame me for not wanting to sit there and listen to yoongi talking about all the girls he's been with, so i just changed the subject..." you mutter, pushing the jar away from you after pulling a strawberry lollipop out, "kind of regretting that decision now."

it's not like you have a reason to be insecure or anything, right?

your relationship with yoongi is very solid and there are certainly no trust issues or communication issues or anything of the sort

...

but he is your first boyfriend...,., and this is your first serious relationship which means you've had no prior experiences to learn from which means you're just going with the flow most of the time.,., so is it possible that you're being a little naïve right now?

"still, i don't think me telling you all the details of their relationship is a good idea because i feel like this is a conversation you should be having with yoongi-" namjoon chuckles nervously, leaning back against his chair before tucking a pencil behind his ear, "sorry, kiddo. i'm not trying to stir the pot here."

"i- oh, c'mon, joon- what's it gonna take, huh?" you reach into the front pocket of your overalls before subtly flashing a folded up hundred dollar bill, pursing your lips slightly as your eyes flicker back and forth between namjoon and your chest-money, "hm??"

"first of all, it's very concerning to me that you stash loose cash in your pocket like that. second of all, are you really trying to bribe me into telling you about yoongi and lisa?" namjoon asks incredulously

"what?! no!" you scoff, tucking the bill back into your pocket before pausing and raising an eyebrow, "...is it working?"

"no! in fact, i find it offensive that you think i'd be so easily swayed-"

"the next time i bring sushi for lunch, i'll get you your own mango shrimp tempura roll." you offer, namjoon staring at you blankly before he suddenly springs into action

"so, they used to sleep together, obviously." he clears his throat, "when lisa started working here, i kind of expected her to get involved with one of us and unsurprisingly it was yoongi, because... well, it's yoongi- i'm pretty sure it was a friends with benefits kind of thing because i remember asking him about it and he said they didn't want to put a label on it? and then at one point jimin asked lisa about it because all of us were super curious and she called it a 'situationship'... which, personally, i think is a pretty cheesy label- i dunno, they'd go out to dinners sometimes and occasionally they'd come into work together in the morning because- well, you know- uh, they were in this 'situationship' for... maybe, like, eight months? and then lisa got an opportunity to work elsewhere and she took it and they decided to call it off and fast forward to now... here we are!" namjoon claps his hands together before pressing his palm over his heart, "and i promise you that's all the information i have- well, maybe this piece of information might be useful to you: they were, like, super horny for each other all the time. like, almost outrageously horny, which i think is one of the downfalls of the relationship because you can't base a solid relationship off of animalistic sex, right? ooh, there was one time i caught them in yoongi's office and lisa was-"

"okay, i think that's enough-!" you hold a hand out to shut namjoon up and he shrugs before leaning back against his chair, "more than enough, actually-"

you weren't expecting to learn about the raw, animalistic sex yoongi had with lisa, but then again, you weren't expecting to even meet lisa at all

oh, god

should you be nervous??

you shouldn't be nervous, right??

...yeah, you're being ridiculous!

yoongi has been with other girls before and that shouldn't bother you because you didn't exist then

this has nothing to do with you!

so what if he bent her over the office table and-

okay, maybe it's time to stop thinking about this because the point is: you're fine. don't worry. everything is normal. yoongi is your boyfriend. lisa is his ex. everything is great!

"by the way, i want you to know that you honestly have nothing to worry about." namjoon suddenly chimes in as if he can read your mind, "lisa was yoongi's past but you are his present and most likely his future as well, so- seriously, don't even worry about it."

"yeah, you're right. it'd be silly of me to be upset about yoongi being with someone else when i wasn't even in the picture yet." you snort, reaching up to smack your own forehead gently, "okay! i'm feeling a little better. it would've been nice to not be informed about how horny they were for each other, but thank you for that detail-"

"yo, where are the snap ring pliers from my toolbox?" you turn just in time to see yoongi pop his head in, "i can't find them anywhere... i swear to god, everyone keeps borrowing my tools and 'forgetting' to put them back-" he rolls his eyes before looking over at you with a smile, "hi, baby-"

"hi yoongi-" you giggle, all your doubts and insecurities immediately fluttering away

see? nothing to worry about!

phEw

it feels like a weight's been lifted off your shoulders

"i think hoseok might've been using them earlier this morning." namjoon hums, "what do you need them for?"

"oh, lisa offered to help me out with the master cylinder repair and she needs 'em." yoongi points back over his shoulder, "you know how great she is with her hands-"

"woah, i thought-" your voice cracks slightly and you clear your throat, "i thought, uh- you were working on it yourself? like, i thought you didn't need any help and that's why i'm in here-"

"oh, i don't, but- well, lisa's good with fine-tuning so i might as well take advantage of her expertise while she's here." yoongi snorts before looking back over at namjoon, "you said hoseok had them?"

"yep!"

you bite down on your tongue to keep yourself from commenting any further

it's fine!

as we've already established, you have nothing to worry about.

...right?

»»————- 🛠️ ————-««

"and... voilà!" you smile satisfactorily to yourself after you set the scented candle down on the coffee table

the living room is going to smell like warm brown sugar and cinnamon in a few minutes and you can't wait

this is yoongi's favourite candle so you hope he'll be excited about that when he gets here :'))

you've been preparing the apartment for his arrival and lighting the candle was one of the last things on your to-do list

you still have to order dinner for tonight and you've always been awful at making decisions so you figured it'd be best to let yoongi choose instead

you haven't seen him for about a week and a half because of finals (and, being perfectly honest, you were the one who implemented this distancing rule in the first place because you know you won't be able to focus on studying when yoongi's in the apartment with you) so you're pretty pumped for tonight!!

you hum to yourself as you click on yoongi's phone number in your contacts, flopping back on the couch with a fwump! while your legs swing lazily over the arm

"hello?"

the phone picks up after a couple of rings and it takes you a second to realize that the voice on the other end certainly does not belong to your boyfriend

"he-" you pause, pulling your phone away from your ear and frowning at the unfamiliar voice before bringing it back, "um, hello?"

"hi! who's this?"

"who's this?" you point to yourself before scoffing lightly, "what do you mean who- who's this?"

"oh- oh, y/n! hey, it's lisa!" lisa greets enthusiastically and you relax a little knowing that it's just lisa, "sorry, i didn't look at the contact name before picking up- what's up?"

"well, i-" you pause again to recollect your thoughts, "um, sorry, i guess i was just expecting yoongi to pick up his own phone so i'm a little lost right now-"

"oh my gosh, don't even worry about it! yoongi's hands are super gross right now so i offered to take his call for him which is why i picked up the phone. is there something you wanted me to pass along to him?"

"yeah, you could pass his phone right along to him-" you joke before reminding yourself to keep the unnecessary cattiness to a minimum, "yeah, um- can you ask him what time he's coming over? so that i know what time to order our food and stuff? i want the food to still be nice and hot by the time he gets here, so i just need a time from him, that's all-"

"yeah, about that... i actually don't think yoongi's going to make it for dinner."

"i-" you frown, pushing yourself up so that you're leaning back against an elbow, "what? why not?"

"the thing is, i hooked him up with a bunch of clients so the poor thing's been working like a dog all day and it looks like he's going to be stuck here for a while... if you're worried about him skipping dinner, i can totally go and get some food for him if you want! there's this sandwich place a block away and i know what he likes-"

your eyes widen slightly at how... happy? lisa sounds about the fact that yoongi potentially won't be joining you for dinner and you nod to yourself as you clench your jaw

"that's- that's very kind of you, lisa-" your voice is a little pitchier than usual at this point and you clear your throat obnoxiously, "i'm sorry, i just really have to talk to yoongi for a second so if you could just, like, hold the phone up to his ear that would be okay too-"

"okay! gimme a sec." there's a bit of shuffling on the other end and you press your lips together as you wait (im)patiently, "yoongs! it's y/n... dinner... hot food... her place... clients... pretty busy tonight..."

and she even has a nickname for him

that's just downright adorable, isn't it?

"god, just give him the damn phone." you mutter under your breath, raising your other hand to inspect your cuticles as you lie back down on the couch

you should probably schedule another manicure soon

"-it's okay, i can hold the phone myself- y/n?" you perk up when you hear yoongi on the other end and you can't help but kick your legs in excitement

you can't help it!!!

you haven't heard his voice in a whole week and a half!!!

"greetings, yoongs." you tease, "what time are you going to be here?" you bypass lisa's whole monologue about yoongi probably not being able to come over tonight in hopes that she'll be wrong about him ditching you to continue working, "i wanna order the food so it'll get here a little before you arrive. also, i haven't chosen what we're going to eat tonight so you're going to have to choose for us-"

"right, about that-" yoongi clears his throat, "i know i was supposed to come over for dinner tonight but- listen, i don't know what lisa did but obviously she's got a lot of connections now and the shop has literally never been this busy before..." he pauses and you hear the sound of loud clanging in the background, "you understand, don't you?"

it takes you a couple of seconds to process the fact that yoongi really won't be coming over tonight and you puff your cheeks out to keep yourself from immediately whining in protest

to say the least, you are.,.,,. very disappointed,.., but!! it won't be the end of the world, right?

you hate that lisa was right, but that's a conversation you can have with yourself another time

and if yoongi won't be here, that means you can hog all the garlic cheesy bread to yourself so maybe this is a blessing in disguise >:-)

"no, yeah, i- yeah, get it!" you nod, "i love that business is booming, i just don't love that you didn't text me or call me earlier to let me know you weren't going to come over tonight," you frown, turning your head to look at the flickering candle, "a heads up would've been nice, that's all..."

"i asked lisa to text you earlier when my hands were full... sorry, she must've forgot..."

"oh. yeah, i guess it could've slipped her mind." you respond dryly, "it would've taken, like, five seconds to text me-"

"okay, i-" you hear yoongi let out a small sigh before he speaks up again, "i'm sorry, baby, i really am- do you- i can come over now if you want me t-"

"no, it's okay! i'm sorry, i'm just-" you shake your head quickly before chuckling uneasily, "i just haven't seen you in a while so i miss you, that's all- but i'll let you get back to work now and i'll see you later?"

"yes! you are the best, you really are- look, i promise i'll be all yours as soon as i-"

"yoongi! these tires aren't going to change themselves, silly-"

"oh, c'mon-" you grumble, your teeth grinding slightly at the interruption of lisa's peppy voice in the background

"uh- yeah, in a sec-! i gotta go, doll- i'll call you later-"

"okay, b-" you don't get a chance to even say goodbye before the line goes dead and the only thing you can hear is an obnoxious beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep- "-ye."

»»————- 🛠️ ————-««

one of your goals for the new year was to try your best to not hold a grudge

admittedly, holding grudges is one of your specialties so it's been a little bit difficult but you think you've been doing an okay job so far!

like that time jungkook accidentally drowned you with dirty car water because he didn't see you and also he had headphones on so he couldn't hear you

you were ready to strangle him right then and there but you just took a deep breath and reminded yourself that *~deep-cleaning services exist~*

and sure, you were a little upset that yoongi couldn't make it for dinner the other night and that the two of you haven't really had a chance to have a moment alone because of how swamped he's been with work, but... well, the past is in the past and challenges like this are good for your personal growth!

plus, it's the start of a new week so you're just going to focus on the present

you try your best to keep your footsteps as quiet as possible as you approach a preoccupied yoongi from behind

he's currently sorting out all the things to do on his giant whiteboard (you bought this for the boys because you thought it'd be a good way to organize all their tasks and unsurprisingly, namjoon was the most excited about it)

"guess who?" you hold your hands over yoongi's eyes with a giddy smile and he immediately spins around to face you

"hey, what are you doing here?" yoongi asks, leaning down to give you a quick kiss before pulling away to check the time on his watch, "aren't you supposed to be in class right now?"

"my history seminar was cancelled because my professor had some kind of an emergency so i thought i'd come and have lunch with you guys!" you hum, reaching over to fix the thin silver chain hanging around yoongi's neck, "i was going to pick the food up before coming here but i didn't want to just choose for everyone so i thought it'd be better to get everyone's orders first-"

"oh, you don't have to do that, baby-" yoongi shakes his head, capping the marker and dropping it back into the wire holder, "lisa actually offered to treat us to lunch- apparently there's some bagel place that has, like, a hundred different fillings-"

"lisa's here?" you interrupt, suddenly straightening your back before looking around quickly, "i... was not aware that lisa was... still here! i thought she was only here for a little while-"

"mm, she ended up extending her stay! one of her clients pushed their appointment to thursday so she came over to help out for the day."

"oh, cool." you nod, pressing your lips together as you take a second to sort through your thoughts

your nose scrunches slightly as you weigh the pros and cons of saying what you're about to say to yoongi

...

it won't kill you to ask, right?

"hey, i don't wanna, um-" you pause, "you know, i don't wanna... be that girlfriend, but... do you think that there's a slight possibility that lisa might still have feelings for you?"

a moment of silence goes by before yoongi practically barks out a laugh of disbelief

"what? lisa? no, no- that- no, don't be ridiculous." he snorts, shaking his head before turning back around to face the whiteboard, "lisa most certainly does not still have feelings for me- and, by the way, she was the one who broke things off with me, so if anything, i should be the one who still has feelings for-" he stops himself midway and presses his lips together before turning to glance at you over his shoulder, "you know, i'm hearing the words coming out of my mouth and i... am going to shut up now."

"mm, good choice." you raise a brow before shrugging, "alright, well, i just- you know, it's a possibility but if you say that lisa doesn't still have feelings for you, then i believe you-"

"alright, boys! it's chow time!"

you turn your head to see lisa waltzing into the shop carrying two large paper bags and the rest of the boys immediately rush over to her like moths to a flame

she brought bagels for lunch?

you're not trying to be biased or anything sandwiches are easier to eat, in your personal opinion

you basically have to unhinge your jaw to get a good bite of a bagel

"y/n!" lisa looks more than surprised at your presence when you and yoongi walk over the join the group, "i wasn't aware you were going to be here today- yoongi told me that you had class so i-" she pauses to set the bags down on the table, "oh my goodness, i am so sorry but i really didn't know you'd be joining us for lunch... yoongi, you could've texted me or something-"

"she just got here!" yoongi shrugs as he takes a seat at the table, "don't pin this on me-"

"ah, i probably look like such a jerk right now..." lisa winces, scratching the back of her head before reaching down to grab a bagel out of one of the paper bags, "here! you can take my bagel-"

"no, no, it's alright!" you hold your hands out before shaking them, "don't be silly, you don't have to do that- it's very nice of you to offer but i- it's alright, you go ahead and enjoy yourself!"

"oh, stop- take the bagel, y/n." lisa scoffs playfully, practically shoving the bagel into your arms before rummaging through the bags again, "i'll just share a bagel with yoongi! you don't mind, right, yoongs?"

"yeah, i had a snack earlier so i'm not, like, starving or anything-" yoongi nods, "what kind of filling is it?"

"this one is..." lisa pauses to look at the sticker on the top, "smoked salmon and dill cream cheese with capers."

"yoongi doesn't like capers." you chime in, suddenly feeling the need to prove to everyone that you know your boyfriend very well, "i remember they were sprinkled in a salad one time and he said they were too salty-"

"eh, i'll survive. i can always just pick 'em out." yoongi shrugs nonchalantly and you can't help but purse your lips in mild frustration at his response

"'atta boy! luckily, they're already sliced in half otherwise we'd have to take turns taking bites which would be weird-"

"agreed." you mutter, peeling the label off your bagel and sticking it onto the side instead

"oh, lisa! i was wondering if maybe you could help me out with some custom headlights i'm working on?" hoseok perks up, "i'm having some trouble getting the halo lights to work and i need your magic hands-"

"mhm! i can definitely check them out after lunch-" lisa grins, taking a seat next to yoongi, "anyone need a napkin?"

"yes, please!"

"i need one too-"

"pass one over here-"

you know it's silly of you to be feeling jealous over this because god knows the only thing you know about cars is that key go in and car go vroom so obviously the boys would never ask you to help them out with anything like how they're asking lisa to help out

and you're trying very hard to noT throw a self-pity party but it's getting harder and harder to not to that

(and it certainly doesn't help that there aren't any more seats left at the table)

you just can't help but feel so!!!!! inferior!!!!! compared to lisa

she's so cool and pretty and witty and obviously very knowledgable about cars

and what are you bringing to the table??

ham and cheese sandwiches??? fancy sushi rolls????

obviously not anymore because they've been replaced by these stupid bagels

this is the first time you haven't been able to throw money at a problem and you're not,.., sure.,., how you feel about it,..,

"i, uh, have to work on a paper, so i think i'm going to go and eat this in the office if anyone wants to come with?" you clear your throat quietly as you start to back away from the table slowly, "...or i can just go fuck myself, which is fine too."

you're not entirely surprised when your comment isn't acknowledged by anyone and you nod to yourself before swiftly turning on your heel and trying your best not to storm towards the office

you force your fists to uncurl and your shoulders to relax slightly but you can't help but make a face when you hear the boys laughing obnoxiously at one of lisa's jokes

of course she has to be funny as well

because the woman literally has zero flaws

you've been trying to find a reason to hate her and so far you haven't found anything negative to say

hating someone for having perfectly styled hair is a little odd

the legs of the chair screech against the floor as you pull it out and plop down

whatever

you like eating alone anyway

you unwrap the parchment paper and pick up the bagel before taking an overly aggressive bite of it, your cheeks practically bursting from how much food is currently in your mouth

you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand as you chew, tossing the bagel back onto the wrapper with a thunk!

...

damnit!

this is the best goddamn bagel you've ever had in your entire life!!

"phtupid phriggin' bavhel." you grumble, reaching up to wipe the sauce off the corner of your mouth before swallowing roughly, "even the mayo is delicious! god, what is this? some kind of garlic mayo-"

"oh my god. i think she's finally lost it." you jolt upon hearing jungkook's voice and you turn to see him and jimin standing at the door

"what's your problem?" jimin asks, the two of them walking over to join you at your sad, lonely table

"what? nothing. i don't have a problem." you shake your head stubbornly, "i just- i just wanted to be alone, that doesn't mean something's wrong-"

"is that why you're in here basically yelling at a bagel?" jungkook points out as he pulls out a chair and sits on your right

"i'm- i'm just stressed about- my paper. or whatever. it's whatever, i'm fine-"

"you can talk to us, you know." you frown when jungkook suddenly reaches over and in an uncharacteristic move, places both hands over yours

"is it about lisa?" jimin asks, crinkling his nose as he sits down as well, "it's about lisa, isn't it?"

"no, it's not-" you press your lips together before letting out a light laugh, "you know, i don't even have a reason to be upset about lisa, right? she's super cool and very nice and knows a lot about cars and is yoongi's age and namjoon blessed me with the knowledge that she, apparently, was a very passionate lover- so i have nothing to be upset about!" you snap, slapping your palm down on the table before wincing and cradling your hand to your chest, "...everything is fine."

"i have to say, i really don't think jealousy is a good look on you." jungkook clicks his tongue before glancing down at your feet, "i also don't know if those shoes are a good look on you- jeez, it's like the people at gucci are just pulling design elements out of a hat-"

"you are not making me feel any better, jungkook- these shoes are new!"

"ooh, you should make him jealous!" jungkook suddenly lights up and the fluorescent light hanging above you guys flickers for a second

"we're going to have to round back to my shoes later because i really don't think they're that bad-"

"you should make him jealous and give him a taste of his own medicine..." jungkook trails off, ignoring your previous comments once again, "it's what you deserve."

"i'm not- i'm not doing that." you chuckle uneasily, "are you serious? this isn't high school and getting him back would just be petty of me-"

"but it'd feel so nice to be petty, don't you think?" jungkook encourages, scooting a little closer to you with a devilish grin, "think about it, y/n. don't you wanna see yoongi get all hot and possessive over you-"

"i don't think it's a good idea." jimin chimes in, shaking his head quickly as he moves in closer as well, "because if yoongi finds out you orchestrated something just to get him back, that might create an issue of trust in the relationship, and that would be very, very bad-"

"oh, but it feels so good to be bad..." jungkook coos, poking your arm with his pointer finger, "so, so good..."

"uh, i don't think so! i'd like to argue that it feels bad to be bad-"

"don't listen to jimin, he's a wuss-"

"don't listen to jungkook, he's an idiot-!"

"okay, cut it out!" you snap, shoving your hands into both their chests to keep them from coming any closer, "i... must admit, i do want to do something to piss yoongi off because of how much he's pissed me off, but... i'm not like that, you know? and i don't want to come off as some crazy girlfriend because-" you pause when you notice jungkook's finger creeping closer and closer to your bagel and you immediately deflate as soon as you realize what's going on here, "oh my god. you guys only came in here because you wanted to try my bagel, didn't you?"

jungkook and jimin exchange knowing glances before looking up at you sheepishly

"yeah, that makes more sense-" you snort, rolling your eyes before pushing the bagel away from you, "have at it, you animals."

you lean back against your chair, stroking your chin in thought as the sound of jungkook and jimin bickering over who gets the bigger half of the bagel starts to fade out

to be petty or not to be petty, that is the question...

»»————- 🛠️ ————-««

(spoiler alert: the answer to the previous question is to be petty. very, very petty.) »»————- 🛠️ ————-««

"namjoon! where did you put my keys??" yoongi calls out, yanking open another drawer to rifle through its contents, "i'm supposed to pick y/n up from campus and i can't find them anywhere... i don't want her to just stand there waiting for me..."

"looking for these?"

yoongi looks up to see lisa standing by the door with his keys in her hand before she tosses them to him

"yes! you're a lifesaver, thanks-" he catches them with one hand before stepping out from behind the counter, "i thought you were leaving today? we already said goodbye to you this morning-"

"yeah, i know-" lisa chuckles as she steps into the office, "it's just that... well, i was going to just leave but i actually had something i needed to talk to you about before i left. i felt it wouldn't be fair to either one of us if i didn't say anything."

"mm. what's up?" yoongi hums, sticking his hand into the lollipop jar to pull a cherry flavoured one out

he pulls another one out before tucking it into his pocket (one for you when he picks you up!)

"well, i guess i should just go ahead and say it- just gotta rip the bandaid off-" lisa straightens her blazer before clearing her throat, "yes."

"...yes?" yoongi frowns, unwrapping his lollipop before popping it into his mouth and scrunching up the wrapper, "i'm not following. yes to what?"

"oh, don't play dumb-" lisa snorts, flicking her wrist at him, "yes, as in: i would love to rekindle our friends with benefits situationship-"

"woah, what?!" yoongi immediately chokes and he yanks the lollipop out of his mouth before patting his chest roughly, "what are you- what the hell are you talking about??"

"what do you mean what the hell am i talking about??" lisa stares at him incredulously before shaking her head, "you're the one who's been giving me secret signals all week-"

"signals-" yoongi's gawks, "what signals??"

"you know, like, how you cancelled dinner plans with her so you could be with me..." lisa croons, taking a step closer towards him

"i cancelled dinner plans with y/n so i could be with twenty cars-" yoongi inches to the side so he can make a quick getaway to run behind the counter in case lisa pounces, "which, i'm realizing doesn't make me sound like the best boyfriend but- i most certainly didn't cancel just to spend private time with you, no offence-"

"what about when we shared a bagel and you didn't complain about the capers??" lisa snaps, lunging towards yoongi only for him to quickly spin out of the way and hurry to get behind the counter

"uh, we shared a bagel because i wasn't hungry for a full bagel and i thought you weren't either, and also-" yoongi grabs namjoon's wheely chair as a makeshift barrier between him and lisa, "i'm a grown man, i'm not going to throw a fit over some friggin' capers-"

"how about when i squeezed your arm and asked you if you'd been working out and you totally flexed your arm for me??" lisa grabs the arms of the chair before yanking and aggressively rolling it behind her, yoongi's eyes widening in panic at the sudden empty space in between the two of them

"i flexed it to prove to you that i have indeed been working out-!" yoongi hops up onto the counter as soon as lisa darts towards him and he hurries to jump off so he's on the other side of it, knocking the phone and namjoon's pen holder down onto the ground in the process, "friends can ask each other if they've been hitting the gym!! i squeeze namjoon's arms all the time because his biceps are literally boulders-"

"i just feel like we have unfinished business, you know?" lisa whines, pausing for a second before bringing a hand up to bite down on the tip of her pointer finger teasingly, "plus, you have to admit that our sex was super hot-"

"are you- hello, i'm dating y/n!" yoongi gasps, "our business is finished! we have no more- we're out of business, lisa!"

"oh, c'mon." lisa raises a brow, clearly unimpressed with his reaction, "it's not going to hurt anyone to keep me as your sexy little secret- it's perfect! i only come into town, like, once or twice a year, so she won't even suspect anythi-"

"what are you- are you insane?! i'm not going to cheat on y/n-" yoongi chokes before raising his hands in defence, "lisa, you're a very beautiful woman and we do have a history, but- look, i'm sorry if i sent you mixed signals this week, that was certainly not my intention- please understand that i am very much not trying to cheat on someone who i love very much and who i'm pretty sure loves me back, so-"

"then who's that person she's so obviously flirting with right now?" lisa points over his shoulder, "also, she's barely visited you this week. what kind of girlfriend doesn't want to always be with her boyfriend??"

"first of all, space can be healthy, and second of all, she- hold on, you said flirting?" yoongi turns to look over his shoulder and out the door, tilting his head slightly when he sees you standing at the front of the garage laughing with... someone he certainly doesn't recognize...

"you can leave all of this behind and come and work for me, yoongi-" yoongi jumps when he suddenly feels hands grasping at the collar of his jumpsuit and he turns back to see lisa standing right in front of him (how did she move so quickly and quietly?!), "we can be happy together, i swear-"

"yeah, cool, just give me a second-" yoongi gently yanks lisa's hands off of him before hurrying out of the office and making a beeline right for you and this mysterious stranger

"oop- okay, he's coming this way-" baekhyun mutters, glancing over your shoulder before looking back at you, "it's show time. you ready?" he hums, reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear

"what do you think? do we look convincing?" you reach down to unbutton another button on your blouse before adjusting the collar

it's taking everything within you noT to whip around to see if yoongi's just walking towards you or if he's storming towards you... because there's definitely a difference and you definitely want it to be the latter

the plan you came up with had a pretty simple formula: one handsome stranger + one flirty, oblivious y/n = one jealous yoongi

jungkook had a point about how nice it'd be to get yoongi all riled up and possessive and frankly you think you deserve it considering how dismissive he's been with you all week... which is why you were more than happy to recruit your very handsome friend baekhyun (he's very sweet / you met last semester in one of your history courses / he was more than willing to help out with your plan because he's a theatre major and this is good practice for him) to help you out with your plan!

"you're laughing like a robot." baekhyun lowers his voice, "i told you to act natural-"

"i'm being natural! ha, ha! ha! ha-ha. you're so funny, baek-" you giggle obnoxiously, reaching over to slap his chest gently, "you are absolutely the funniest person i've ever met-"

"y/n!" yoongi clears his throat loudly and you bite back a grin at the hint of annoyance you can detect in his voice, "i... thought i was picking you up from class today? i wasn't aware you hired a chauffeur!"

"oh, yoongi!" you spin around, feigning surprise as if you totally weren't expecting to see him at all, "oh, this is actually my friend- i know you've been busy so he offered to give me a ride!" you hum, stepping aside to let baekhyun step up onto the sidewalk, "baekhyun, this is yoongi-" you gesture to yoongi, "yoongi, this is baekhyun! ...my boyfriend."

you're hoping your accidental on-purpose flub-up triggers yoongi's memory of how he accidentally introduced lisa to you as his girlfriend and you're delighted to see the way yoongi's jaw drops slightly, "oh, my bad! i'm sorry, i don't know how that happened- what i meant to say was baekhyun, this is yoongi, my boyfriend. there we go."

"baekhyun..." yoongi repeats, his eyes narrowing slightly when baekhyun suddenly wraps an arm around your shoulder and gives you a squeeze "well, that's very nice of you to drive y/n all the way here. thanks for doing that, man."

"oh, it's no problem at all!" baekhyun hums, reaching over to pinch your cheek, "y/n's the sweetest and i didn't want to abandon her on campus-"

"okay, she wasn't abandoned, i was literally about to leave to pick her up-" yoongi points out, lifting his keys with a jingle before abruptly shoving them into his back pocket, "you know, y/n's never mentioned a baekhyun before. you two seem... close!"

"oh, baek and i go way back." you snort, digging your elbow into his side with a grin, "isn't that right, baek?"

baek

yoongi pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek at the fact that baekhyun still has his arm wrapped around your shoulder and you haven't made a move to shoVE it off

how can you not see that his intentions with you aren't just chummy??

he wouldn't have driven you all the way here if he didn't want to get his grubby hands under your skirt-

"we most certainly do! we made some great memories in that lecture hall- i have to say, i was, uh, pretty disappointed when i found out she was already in a relationship..." baekhyun sighs dramatically, shaking his head before looking back at you, "i would treat you right and never cancel dinner plans with you-"

"okay, i think it's time for you to go, bacon-" yoongi forces a smile on his face before reaching over to gently pull you towards him, "thank you for dropping my girlfriend off. have a good one."

"oh, no problem!" baekhyun points towards you, "hey, lemme know if you need a ride to campus on monday because i'd be happy to swing by your apartment and-"

"no, i can take her!" yoongi manoeuvres you so that you're standing behind him and basically blocked from baekhyun's sight, "i've got it from here, thanks."

"bye, baek!" you wave at baekhyun as gets into his car and he salutes at you before his right eye drops in a cheeky wink and it's at that point that yoongi really thinks he's about to lose it

what the hell was that?!

he spins around to face you as soon as baekhyun zooms off and you keep yourself from asking him why his ears have suddenly turned super red

"why are you wearing lowbuttons to class?" yoongi crosses his arms over his chest, "i thought you said you were going to use them as, like, apartment decoration."

"louboutins, yoongi." you correct, looking down at your slick stilettos, "and why can't i wear louboutins to class?"

"you wore them out to dinner one time and i ended up having to carry you back to the car because your feet were aching-" yoongi reminds you with a pointed tone, "are you telling me that you walked up and down and all around campus in those things?"

"maybe i did." you shrug, turning to stick your nose up in the air a little, "i can wear stilettos to class if i so please."

"and the miniskirt?"

"what, you don't like it?" you pout, reaching down to pick a piece of fluff off the surface, "it's new!"

it's a plain black skirt but it has a little slit on the side and you purposely bought this specific piece knowing that yoongi has expressed how much he likes you in black

"of course i like it, and obviously i'm a big fan of the heels but-" yoongi huffs, "all i'm saying is that it's a little odd- the timing is weird for your miniskirts and heels to make a sudden comeback now that you're all buddy-buddy with this backyawn-"

"it's baekhyun-"

"that's what i said!"

"you know, i don't know what you're implying here but i haven't done anything wrong-" you shrug, "are you feeling okay? maybe you need to take a nap-"

"stop being stubborn, y/n. just tell me what's going on!"

"nothing's going on!" you insist, raising your hands in defense before flicking a strand of hair over your shoulder, "everything is perfectly fine and nothing is-"

"are you leaving me for baekhyun?" yoongi interrupts, his eyes suddenly softening, "because if this is how you're telling me we're over, it's a pretty shitty-"

"what- what?? no!" you shake your head quickly, "no, of course i'm not- why would you even- okay, fine! fine, i-" you let out a breath and your shoulders drop a little, "it's just that... i don't know, it kind of feels like i've been fighting to get your attention for the whole week and i... i feel like i shouldn't have to do that as your girlfriend, you know? and i'm not... i guess i just felt like i wasn't stacking up to lisa and how cool and smart she is and- this whole week it's just felt like you're in a relationship with lisa and not me, so i... wanted to make you jealous to see if you still cared. or whatever."

"are you serious?" yoongi's eyes flutter shut and he reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration, "fuck, i'm sorry, ah- i'm sorry, y/n, i really am-" his brows knit together in remorse as he looks at you, "i think i just got swept up in all the new clients she was bringing in so i was focusing more on that than on noticing what was going on with you... i'm sorry. why didn't you just come and talk to me about it?"

"i didn't know how." you mutter, reaching up to scratch the side of your head, "i've never had to deal with something like this before, so... i know it was silly of me to come up with this whole thing-"

"you are my girlfriend, y/n." yoongi reminds you, his voice softening, "not lisa. it's you." he reaches over to hook a finger under your chin so he can get you to look at him, "i promise i only have eyes for you, pretty girl. you still love me?"

"god, yoongi-" you feel your cheeks flush at the nickname and you roll your eyes playfully before turning your head, "yeah. duh."

"oh, you silly thing..." he tuts, pulling you in for a hug and propping his chin up on the top of your head, "i'm sorry, baby. i really didn't mean to make you feel like that..." he pulls away and reaches down to glide his finger down the bridge of your nose before poking the tip, "i hope you can forgive me for being a shitty boyfriend."

"i'll forgive you if you forgive me for pretending to flirt with someone else." you smile sheepishly, yoongi grinning before nodding in agreement

"deal." he wraps an arm around your shoulder as the two of you head back towards the direction of the office, "so you really went through all that trouble just to make me a little jealous?" yoongi grins, "just for a little bit of attention? as if i'm not already all over you when we're alone-"

"well, it worked, didn't it?" you take your bottom lip in between your teeth as you squish your cheek against yoongi's shoulder and look up at him, "my acting skills are not half bad, if i do say so myself-"

"oh, shit, uh-" yoongi suddenly stops in his tracks when he sees lisa step out of the office and he spins around so that his back is facing her, "not to make you worry, but you should probably know that lisa's somehow convinced that i've been secretly flirting with her all week because i want to become friends with benefits again and she almost, like, body-slammed me in the office- also, if namjoon asks, tell him a raccoon snuck in and that's why his desk is a mess and his pens are all over the floor-"

"wait, what?!" your brows knit together and you're about to lean over to look at lisa but yoongi quickly reaches out and grabs onto your shoulders to keep you in place

"-yeah, so i'm going to lay you down on the hood of that car now because doing something extreme is probably the only thing that'll prove to her that she's wrong and i am very desperate to show her that she's wrong-"

"lay me down on the- and do what?! yoongi-!" you don't get much of a chance to say anything else before yoongi's suddenly bending down to pick you up off the ground in one swift movement, his fingers digging underneath your thighs as he lays you down on the hood of the nearest car, "yoongi-! you can't just-"

"shush!" yoongi hisses, pressing his lips against yours to shut you up promptly

"mmvph-"

it doesn't take you very long to melt into the kiss once you realize you haven't kissed yoongi like this in like a week and a half and you can't help but smile at the familiar faint taste of cherry you're getting from him

yoongi's warm hand slides down from your waist so he can hitch your left leg up against his hip, one of your heels slipping from your foot and clattering onto the floor

your senses are so clouded with yoongi cherry yoongi cherry that you nearly forget the two of you aren't alone (and also, all of this is definitely being recorded on the security cameras right now)

"hey, so- i- i'm gonna get going-" lisa announces loudly as she stands at a good distance away from the two of you, her eyes looking up towards the ceiling so that she doesn't have to watch the way yoongi's kissing down your neck, "i have to check out of my hotel, so-"

"yeah, sounds good!" yoongi pulls away for a second and shoots a quick thumbs up over his shoulder, "see you later, pal!"

"bye, lisa!" you chime in, giving her a wave even though she isn't looking at you and is really trying to double-time it to her car, "it was so nice meeting you!"

the two of you watch silently as lisa practically leaps into her mustang, the sound of the engine revving before she quickly speeds off like she just remembered she left the oven on at home

you turn your head to look up at yoongi before scoffing lightly, hooking a finger against his chain to pull him back down towards you, "you're ridiculous, you know that?"

"yeah, i know-" yoongi's nose crinkles before he offers you a boyish smirk and a half-hearted shrug, "you love it, though."

🎙️help me help you make your wishes come true (send me a request!) ✨why don’t you explore the rest of the library while you’re here? (full fics!) 💫or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles like this one!) 🌟or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits!)

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leogichidaa · 2 years

Note

Now I’m really curious what the Blacks thought about the Malfoys. They had to have been at least good enough they were willing to let them marry into the family (re: Narcissa). 🤔

Yeah, so like I think there's a definite hierarchy among the pureblood supremacist purebloods and I think the Black family is top tier. The Malfoys are known to marry the occasional half-blood, but the Blacks either marry a pureblood or get kicked out of the family. So their direct line remains pure and inbred af.

I see it as kind of like...if this were a royal AU, the Blacks would be princes/princesses and the Malfoys would be like the dukes/duchesses. They're not really on the same level, but they're close enough that they intermingle and intermarry.

The Malfoys value wealth and power more than pureblood supremacy and status. The Blacks favor "purity" and status over wealth and power. They have different, but overlapping, priorities.

What's also interesting is that the Lestranges are apparently one of the families who, like the Blacks, did not marry anyone but the purest of purebloods. So Bellatrix married better than Narcissa. Not surprising. I find it interesting to think about what both of them thought of their marriages. It seems pretty evident that Bellatrix's marriage is one of status and convenience, not love. But she and Rodolphus are also DE's together, they're caught together with Rabastan (and BCJ, why was he included??? Wait, I might have to write a Rabastan/BCJ fic). They clearly have a partnership of some kind.

And look, I know that I am veering wildly off-track here, but it is notable that Bellatrix says:

If I had sons, I would be glad to give them up to the service of the Dark Lord!

Because why doesn't she have children (with her husband)? If Cursed Child is to be believed, she's capable of it. She had the time. She had the motivation (provide sons for the cause). Why no kids? Maybe Rodolphus was sterile. Maybe a million things. But it's interesting.

Anyway, Narcissa and Lucius seem, from the little we get, like more of a love match. In fanon that's certainly how they're treated and I think the way they both would burn the whole world down for their son suggests there's more of a bond there. And this is interesting, because while we don't have any timeline here for when the sisters got married, Narcissa is the youngest, so it's reasonably possible that she married after Andromeda. And I wonder if there wasn't some mild pressure for her to pick someone other than Lucius, someone from a family like the Lestranges, as a sort of counter-measure to prove that despite Andromeda's choices, this branch of the Black family was still solid. But she loved him and he was still a pureblood, so the marriage went through, maybe?

#ask #anon ask #House of Black #Malfoy family #Narcissa Black #Bellatrix Black

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thedreadvampy · 3 years

Text

So Stuart Semple's out on Twitter defending NFTs and saying they have negligible environmental impact (false) and it just. This is the Classic Semple Trajectory

A genuine problem exists and is Big News (it's a shitty garbage time to try and make money as an artist so artists are engaging in NFTs)

Stuart Semple responds to his somewhat surface level understanding of the problem with a (highly monetisable) glib piece of art referencing both the issue and his wider brand, which is flawed but broadly understandable (in this case, auctioning off an NFT containing pixels of all his colours which um it doesn't make SENSE because he makes PIGMENTS and it's FUNCTIONALLY IMPOSSIBLE TO MAKE IDENTICAL COLOURS WITH IDENTICAL MEANINGS IN LIGHT AND PIGMENT but whatever)

People criticise the flaws in his work (NFTs are an environmental shitshow)

He responds publicly with a broadly solid argument (yes but artists have limited options)

People continue to criticise the flaws in his work

He gets angry and doubles down

He doubles down

He has by now veered wildly off track and started spouting obviously false ideas (NFTs don't harm the environment anyway and if they did it would be a tiny fraction of the global emissions so it doesn't matter but anyway they don't and you all hate artists trying to do good in the world)

he doubles down

this is his brand now

he doubles down

like this is how we got from 'it is bad that people can put exclusive usage rights on colours' to 'ANISH KAPOOR IS A TERRORIST SYMPATHISER WHO RUINED ART AND IF YOU SAY I'M OVERREACTING YOU'RE CALLING ME RACIST IN ORDER TO DEFEND CORPORATIONS' and it's just

chef kiss

every time

#like I'm not going out of my way to criticise Stuart Semple i swear i don't even follow him on social media!#but my partner does and sometimes sends me stuff #and it's just. it's the same pattern over and over #btw it's also visibly the process that got us to 'siccing an inexplicably transphobic mob on me'

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one-boring-person · 4 years

Text

Afraid To Shoot Strangers.

Eric Coulter x reader

Warnings: gun violence, mention of injury,

Context: During a game of capture the flag, the reader notices someone trying to go a different way, and follows them.

A/N: this is my first time writing Eric, so I'm sorry if it sucks. I recently rewatched Divergent and now I'm in the mood to write some Eric fics😅😅

Masterlist.

My heart races wildly in my chest as I duck down behind the container again, a bullet flying over my head with a quiet noise, the preceding gunshot quieter due to the nature of the gun it was fired from. In my hands, the dart rifle feels uncomfortably lightweight and wrong, the trigger too loose under my index finger as it experimentally grazes over it. All around me, I can hear the other initiates calling to each other, firing at each other as they lead on the offense, quickly locating and eliminating the defence of the opposition, screams and cries of pain mingling with the quiet feedback from the weapons in our hands signalling the impacts of the neuro-stim darts we've been given as ammo. As of yet, my clip is completely full.

Somewhere behind me, a quick shout announces the arrival of more of our team mates, though my attention isn't drawn to this, it's drawn to the dark figure ducking out of the range to the east, their silhouette briefly illuminated as they drop down over the wall surrounding the area, clearly trying to get somewhere safely. Hope momentarily flares to life within me as I recognise my chance to prove myself capable, knowing that taking out the runner will give us an advantage if I do it quietly enough.

Scanning the area, I take a deep breath, adjusting the gun in my hands as I map out my route, eyeing each part of it sharply so as not to miss any hidden attackers. Finding none, I lunge forwards, feet pumping underneath me as I aim for the closest container, skidding to a halt behind it, having avoided the instant volley of gunshots that accompanied my break, the exposed knuckles on my hands scraping painfully as I use my fists to stop myself from falling over. Hastily, I scramble to my feet and focus on my next target, racing over to it again as soon as I deem it safe enough to leave the cover, yelps escaping me as the darts pelt the ground behind me, each initiate aiming just a little off-target, thankfully.

This repeats three or four times until there's only one stop left between me and the wall. I quickly gauge it and make a break for it, breathing hard as I doggedly sprint to my next destination, choosing to go straight to the wall instead of stopping, throwing myself over it without realising how far the drop is.

The impact jars me as I land roughly, my shoulder exploding in pain as I roll into my side, groaning before I heave myself up, finding myself incapable of using the corresponding arm, the gun hanging uselessly on the strap around my shoulders. Gritting my teeth, I force myself to limp into a covered area, the nearest place being a rundown carousel, trying to flex the fingers of my hand, only to find that I physically can't move them, the digits not responding to anything I try, agony shooting through them as I manually bend them with my other hand. Forcing back a sob, I take the gun in my other hand and hope that my aim is good enough, hobbling back out again, following the footprints left in the gravel covering the pathway, the shapes hard to make out in the darkness, but visible nevertheless, ignoring the pain in my arm as I go.

An odd feeling sets in as I move, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end as I become aware of something, my muscles instinctually tightening in preparation to move, my finger moving to the trigger of the gun, though I am basically unable to lift the weapon to my shoulder. Making it a few more metres, I notice that the footsteps veer off to the right, only to stop when they reach an old ticket booth hut, the structure signifying the end of the trail as I realise I'll struggle to track them in this light with no footprints to go by. Sighing in resignation, I go over to it, placing a hand on the wall to feel for any traces of dirt that may have come off their shoe when they climbed up, a curse leaving me as my hand comes back clean.

The air suddenly leaves me as my body is violently pressed into the wall, another torso behind mine pinning me in place, the gun now useless as my arm protests in pain, a squeak erupting from my mouth when their hand clamps over it, the other holding the gun to my back. Breathing hard, I tense up, panicking and in fear, knowing now that I made a stupid mistake by turning my back as they lean in to snap something in my ear.

"You ought to be more careful, initiate."

My heart drops at the tone. It belongs to no less than Eric Coulter, the stern, intimidating Dauntless leader in charge of taking us through our initiation. Everyone is terrified of him, and now he's pinning me to a wall, his breath fanning over my neck as he leans in.

"You should never turn your back to an open space." He growls lowly, pressing me harder into the wall, his gun digging harshly into the flesh of my lower back.

It's all I can do not to moan in pain, my arm smarting as he applies more and more pressure to it.

"It was a mistake..." I mumble, trying to wrestle my other arm out from between us, only to change tact when he shoves a leg between mine, effectively pinning me.

"What was that? You wanna say that again?" The leader practically spits in my ear, his tone venomous.

"I said it was a mistake!" I say louder, my face flushing in embarrassment as he laughs dryly.

"Yeah, no shit." Eric bites out, clearly gloating at the position I'm in, "Why're you down here anyway, Stiff? Afraid to shoot strangers?"

Biting my lip, I just keep wrestling the gun in my hands upwards, knowing I'll only have one shot at getting this right, the angle basically invisible to me as I finally manage to slide it into place. Thanking my previous intuition to at least cock it, I place my finger over the trigger and pull it.

A sharp grunt of pain makes him buckle, his grip loosening on me enough so that I can drive my good elbow back into his abdomen, effectively knocking him to the floor as he grabs at his thigh, pulling at the dart sticking out of the muscular limb. Swiftly, I turn around and aim the gun at him again, pointing it directly over his chest and shooting him again, eliminating him as I wince from the agony racing through my shoulder.

"Ah...didn't know...you had it in you...initiate..." Eric grits out, voice strained from the simulated gunshot wounds.

"Neither did I." I murmur to myself, looking up when I hear a sudden uproar of cheers from the roof we were initially on, most likely signalling the end of the game. A collective shout of one name gives away exactly who won: it was our team.

Hesitantly, I allow a small smile to grace my features, the leader at my feet cursing and blaspheming colourfully as he pulls the darts out and climbs to his feet, shooting me a dirty look before walking off, his gun held in one hand as he leaves me in the darkness.

Watching him, I cast one last look up at the roof before I follow him, going to where I know the train is waiting to take us back to the faction compound, wondering to myself how the hell I'll manage to pull myself onto it.

#eric coulter #divergent #Eric coulter divergent #Eric coulter x reader #Eric (divergent) x reader

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a-d-curtis · 3 years

Text

Chant

I just realized I never posted this here. It is the first chapter of my series “Memories in the Wind” (Chapters 2: Incense & 3: Artifacts have already been posted here. Good thing chronology doesn’t matter in these little stories =) Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Other works in this series:

Incense

Artifacts

…………….

“Be careful, Bumi!”

Katara pulled protectively at her toddling son as he leaned disconcertingly over the edge of Appa’s saddle to rub his chubby little hands in fistfuls of Appa’s fur.

Aang looked back over his shoulder from where he held the reins on Appa’s head and smiled.

“Oh let him have some fun, Katara! You know I’ve got him if he falls overboard.”

Katara’s grip on her son tightened as she sent an exasperated looked toward her carefree husband. “Aang, I just don’t think it’s safe for Bumi to think that every time he falls off of Appa he gets a ‘fun airbending ride with Daddy’ back up here to safety.”

“But I’ve got him, Katara. I don’t want him to be afraid of heights.”

Katara huffed. “But for those of us who don’t command Air, Sweetie, a dose of that kind of fear is not unhealthy.”

“You don’t know yet that Bumi doesn’t bend air,” Aang said casually. “He’s too young to tell.”

Aang smiled with a playful twinkle in his eye. “Or maybe he’ll be splashing his mom with waterbending before we know it! Wouldn’t that be great?”

Katara couldn’t help the smile that found its way to her mouth. She did like the idea of teaching waterbending to her son one day. At a year and a half Bumi hadn’t shown any signs of either waterbending or airbending, but he was young yet.

“Maybe he won’t bend at all,” Katara proposed thoughtfully.

Aang smirked cheekily, “As long as he doesn’t bend Fire or Earth, I think we are good.” He looked at her with mock-seriousness as he teased, “Because then you’d have some ‘splaining to do.”

Katara rolled her eyes at Aang dramatically, but couldn’t help but smile at him, shaking her head at the preposterousness of the idea. With Bumi’s open, carefree spirit and his ‘run before he walks’ and ‘leap before he looks’ tendencies, Katara wondered how anyone could ever doubt that Aang was his father. Personality wise, Bumi was undeniably Aang’s son.

Katara looked at her son as she held his torso with two hands, his fat little fingers still buried in Appa’s fur. Bumi laughed and babbled “Ap-pa, Ap-pa, Ap-pa” to himself as his dark hair blew wildly in the wind.

It had been a sore spot for Aang that Bumi had spoken the word “Appa” before “Daddy” -- a fact that Aang insisted his sky bison lorded over him constantly. “You don’t know what its like, Katara! I’ll catch a smug look in Appa’s eye and just know he’s laughing at me. How could my own son betray me this way?!” It was all in jest of course, but Katara suspected that any real feelings of hurt didn’t fully dissipate until Bumi started babbling “Da-da” at which point Aang seemed to forget the snub completely as he instead, glowed with pride. “Katara did you hear that?! He’s so smart!” Then continuing with a loving look at his wife, “A genius, just like his mom!”

The little family currently flew over a forested area in the northwestern Earth Kingdom. This part of the Earth Kingdom was pretty far north, the vegetation consisting of mostly evergreens and other tenacious plants that didn’t mind the rocky ground and the cold winters. But it was summer now, and the air was clear and cool, the breeze bringing the delightful scent of pine as Katara inhaled deeply.

Suddenly, Appa let out a groan and veered sharply down and to the right. Katara reflexively pulled Bumi protectively into her lap as she grabbed the saddle with one arm to steady herself, her innards giving that strange lurching feeling that felt like her stomach had jumped into her throat.

“Whoa boy!” Katara heard Aang say as he pulled the reins, trying to get his animal guide back on course. “What’s up, Buddy?” Appa groaned something at Aang as he leveled out again.

But a moment later he lurched again, this time turning them all the way around and descending toward the forest below.

Katara looked over the lip of the saddle to see Aang laying flat on his stomach on Appa’s head as he spoke to his bison. “Do you hear something, Buddy?”

Then sitting up, Aang called back to Katara. “Looks like Appa wants to land here for some reason, Sweetie. I guess we’re going down.”

As the giant bison landed six-footed onto the rocky ground amid the sparse but towering trees, Aang hopped back up into the saddle with his wife and son. Then taking hold of Katara around the waist as she held Bumi, Aang airbend-jumped all three of them down to the ground.

“Why did we stop, Aang?” Katara asked.

“I’m not sure. I have no idea why Appa wanted to stop here.” But Aang’s perplexed look quickly turned to an open smile that he turned to his wife. “Well, shall we have a look around then?” Katara could see that Aang’s disposition for adventure and his naturally flexible sense of ‘destination’ were taking over.

“I suppose so,” Katara said as she set Bumi down to let him walk around a bit, smiling affectionately at the way her son held his hands out for balance. “It is a lovely forest.”

They had not taken more than ten steps into the trees when Aang stopped Katara in her tracks. “Wait. Do you hear that?”

The sound was faint, but as Katara strained her ears she thought she could hear the sound of… what was that? The sound was long and solemn, resonating out a continuous melancholy whine. Katara didn’t know what would make a sound like that; certainly not an animal. Maybe some sort of instrument perhaps?

Aang seemed to have frozen, a wide-eyed look on his face.

Appa bellowed again and walked forward, nuzzling his head into Aang, snapping Aang out of his trance. Aang put his hand on Appa’s big head and affirmed with semi-stunned excitement, “Yeah, I hear it too, Appa!”

“Let’s go find it, Buddy!” Aang said enthusiastically to Appa as he scooped Bumi giggling up into his hands and grabbed Katara’s hand and pulled her back onto Appa’s back. Appa didn’t wait to hear “yip, yip” before he took off into the sky.

Katara still did not know what the sound was, but it clearly meant something to Aang and Appa. She wanted to ask her husband about it, but she didn’t want to interrupt the single-minded concentration Aang was giving to following the sound at this moment.

Appa flew low, the toes of his six legs often skimming the tops of the trees. Aang half straddled, half stood on Appa’s head, like a jockey standing up in the stirrups, all the while moving his arms in wide sweeping motions, as though he was pulling the air towards his chest. Katara knew that Aang was pulling at the surrounding air, willing the sound to come to him, amplifying it so they could follow it to its source.

It didn’t take long to follow the sound to a tiny settlement nestled among the trees. There were so few houses, and each spaced so far apart, that it couldn’t really even be called a town. Appa had to circle around the roof of the source of the sound a couple of times before needing to land a short distance away from it in the only clearing big enough for his large body.

The sound rang out clearly from inside a small log dwelling.

But even after Appa landed with a huff, Aang remained still, staring unmoving toward the dwelling just visible through the pines. He didn’t move from Appa’s head. Katara began to feel a little apprehensive as she observed the blue tattoo on Aang’s tense back.

“Sweetie?” Katara asked after another long frozen minute listening to the melancholy brass song through the trees. She placed a supportive hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Katara was unprepared for the intensity of emotion on Aang’s face when he turned toward her. His grey eyes were wide, almost haunted, some complicated set of emotions brewing behind them. Anticipation? Hope? Dread, perhaps?

Aang turned his gaze back towards the dwelling before climbing down slowly from Appa’s head. Something about his climb down seemed so strange. For one thing, Katara wasn’t sure if she had ever actually seen Aang climb down before, not like this anyway; he usually just jumped or floated down. But this movement seemed to be in slow motion, and as though his body was suddenly heavy, each step taking effort. Like he dreaded what lay before him.

Aang began to move toward the trees leading to the log house.

“Sweetie?” she tried again.

Aang turned back to her, the solemn sound ringing through the air around them. “It’s a singing bowl, Katara. An Air Nomad instrument. I haven’t heard one in…” his sentence drifted off absently as he turned back towards the sound.

But then he just stood there, not moving forward. Appa grunted and took a couple steps toward him -- exhausting the extent of space this clearing left for his big body to move -- and nudged Aang with his head as though pushing him toward the sound. Aang shook his head slightly, as if recovering from a trance, and reached out a hand to stroke his oldest friend’s furry cheek. Aang forced a fleeting smile and a “Thanks, Buddy”, before stepping into the forest toward the cabin.

Katara just watched the strait back of the last known air nomad walk away toward the small dwelling that vibrated with a sound both ancient and presumed extinct. For a moment Katara just sat there before she came to herself, and scooped Bumi (who had been uncharacteristically still, as though spellbound by the sound singing through the mountain air) onto her hip and scrambled down Appa’s side to hurry after Aang.

Katara, with Bumi in arms, wound her way through the fragrant evergreens, the light crunch of dried pine needles snapping under her soft boots as she followed after her husband. By the time she arrived at the small dwelling, Aang was nowhere to be seen.

“Aang?” she called as she ducked around the building to the open front door.

Katara stopped, her hand on the rough wood of the open doorframe. Aang stood a few steps inside the small home, his body unnaturally still. She couldn’t see his face, just the rigidity of his stance. The wailing sound vibrated full and long all around the small room.

Beyond Aang, sitting serenely on a mat on the floor was a very old, bald man. A young child at his side ran a wooden mallet around the edge of a brass bowl perched on a folded cloth on the ground in front of him. The ringing was clearly coming from the bowl. Eyes closed, the old man spoke softly – no chanted, almost like he was singing – words that Katara could not understand.

Katara boosted Bumi a little higher on her hip and took a few tentative steps forward inside the hut until she stood at Aang side. She touched his shoulder tentatively with the tips of her fingers. “Aang?”

Aang didn’t turn to look at her, but he exhaled as though it was long overdue, his eyes still staring at the old man.

The old man finished his mantra and then opened his eyes. His withered old hand reached over and gently stopped the circling hand of the child at his side, stopping the singing bowl’s effervescent wail. The sound seemed to echo in the small structure for a moment even after the vibrations had dissipated. The child looked up at them with bright grey eyes, expectant.

The old man brought his hand together with a fist and bowed his head slightly toward Aang. “Bhu-la”

Katara could see Aang’s adam’s apple bob once before he too brought his hands together and bowed respectfully, replying, “Jolak”.

The man motioned with his hand to the empty space on the floor across from him and Aang sat down in lotus, facing him. They both said nothing at first, but Katara could see that Aang’s throat bobbed again as if holding back great emotion.

“Bhu-la”, the old man addressed Aang again (Katara seemed to remember from her stilted efforts to learn Aang’s Air Nomad language that this meant “younger brother”), “I am honored to have you in my home. At first I thought my old eyes had deceived me. I never thought that I would again behold another Kushow La in my lifetime.”

Aang’s face fought valiantly against some strong emotion. “Jolak…” Aang addressed this elder brother and then paused, needing a moment to find his voice before he could continue. “Are you… are you a Kushow La? Are you also an Air Nomad monk?”

Katara’s eyes darted back to the old man in hopeful surprise, even though she saw no arrow tattoos on the old man’s forehead or hands.

The old man sighed, “Alas, I am not.”

Aang’s head bowed, his eyes clenched tightly as he fought to keep his obvious disappointment within. A moment later, Aang’s face became a stone wall. The same stone Katara saw whenever he was keeping some strong emotion to himself.

“I see,” Aang replied.

“I am not. But, young Bhu-la, my father was,” the old man said.

Aang’s eyes opened eagerly, his whole body leaning forward. “Your father? Was an Air Nomad monk??”

“Yes,” the old man chuckled at the eagerness of the tattooed young man before him. “My father was a Kushow La. Like you.”

“My father was not even yet twenty years old at the time of Sozin’s massacre.” The man took a long inhaled breath before continuing. “He told me that his bison had fallen ill, and he was tending to him, which is why he was late for the festival that would have taken him home to the Northern Air Temple at the time of Firelord Sozin’s first attacks. Having not been at the temple, he avoided the first wave of fire.” The old man looked somberly down to his lap. “But he and his kind were hunted afterward. His beloved bison was cut down before word of the slaughter had even made it to my father’s ears. My father only narrowly escaped that attack with his own life.”

The man looked knowingly at Aang, a well of sympathy behind his old eyes as he continued, “My father did not talk much of those many years of fleeing from the Fire Nation. But I know he saw great atrocities and his personal losses were great.”

Aang listened intently, nodding minutely in understanding, his face stone again (although Katara could see the pain behind his eyes).

“My Earth Kingdom grandfather’s family provided my father a temporary refuge for a time. While my father was staying with my grandfather, he and my mother fell in love. But when their union was opposed by my grandfather, the two fled together to these very forests. They built this home, far from civilization, with the hope that they could hide from those who sought to destroy them. I was born within these very walls.” The old man looked up at the small wooden structure, as though a lifetime’s worth of memories were written upon it.

“My mother and father and I lived here happily for many years. Until whispers of Airbender survivors began to circulate, even making it out here to our remote location. My father ignored them for a long time. Until one day he told my mother he had to go and see, to find one of these ‘havens’ in the mountains for himself. I was twelve at the time.”

The old man looked Aang strait in the face. “I never saw my father again. I never found out what happened to him.”

Aang winced, as if he understood more than he wanted to. Katara was not sure what “havens in the mountains” the man spoke of, but she did not have much trouble imagining the end fate of this man’s father.

Aang spoke, “I am so sorry for your loss, Jolak.”

“Thank you for your sympathy, Bhu-la. I accept your shared mourning.”

Aang turned his eyes toward the child and with a kind smile said, “Thank you for your music, Bhu-la. You play just like I remember it from when I was your age!”

The little boy’s face burst into a wide, charming smile. The old man smiled and patting the child’s leg with unobscured pride as he introduced, “This is my great-grandson, Aanpa. He is named after my father, the Kushow La.”

Aang’s eyes moistened, but he smiled at the boy again. “It’s a good name, Aanpa. I had a friend my age who shared your name too.” Aang bit his lip and looked down at his hands in his lap. “It’s a good name,” he repeated again.

At this point Bumi bucked in Katara’s arms, reaching for the floor. He wanted to get down. Katara knelt down on the ground as well, a step to the side of Aang as she pulled Bumi to sit on her lap. Aang looked towards her and introduced, “Jolak” then nodding to the little boy “and Buh-la, this is my wife, Katara, and our son, Bumi.”

The man palmed his fist and dipped his head towards Katara and Bumi. The man’s great-grandson just smiled bigger. Katara smiled back, dipping her head in respect as well.

Seeming to remember, Aang added, “Oh, and I’m Aang.”

The old man’s eyes twinkled, traveling once up to the blue tattoos on Aang’s arms and forehead. “I’m aware of who you are, Bhu-La Aang. Even way out here, we are aware.”

Aang opened his palms upward, motioning toward the singing bowl, “May I… join you? To chant the Time Mantra again?” Katara saw him swallow past his emotion. “It’s been a long time since…” but Aang’s voice seemed to fail him then.

The old man looked at him kindly; Katara seemed to see an Understanding in his old grey eyes. “Of course.”

The man nodded to his great-grandson and the little boy hit the brass bowl with his mallet, then rubbing the wooden handle around the bowl’s edge, the metal began to sing. Bumi bucked again, trying to get out of his mother’s arms to grab at the bowl, but Katara pulled him back to sit on her lap.

Aang and the old airbender’s son both closed their eyes and breathed deeply. Even as their eyes remained closed they both lifted their right hands up, palm facing forward, their left hands resting palm up on their folded knees. For a time they just sat this way, eyes closed, breathing deeply as the singing bowl rang out. Then without any signal that Katara could see, they both began to speak in unison.

Katara had heard Aang chant to himself frequently. And Aang had told her often of the daily chants and joint meditations of the monks. So she was familiar with the sing-song of the mantra. But she had never heard an Air Nomad chant in tandem before, and the sound of it, the way the words resonated through the little log house was incredible. It was like their voices were one layered voice, but somehow even more potent. The sound of it brought a catch in her throat. Even Bumi sat listening, watching his father’s face intently.

As the chant filled the small wooden dwelling, the chorus seeming to sink within her, Katara couldn’t help but imagine how this sound would have echoed gloriously in the great meditation halls of the Air Temples. With a hundred voices reciting the words together.

For the thousandth time Katara felt a great swell of compassion for all that Aang had lost. There was no accompanying anger this time, as there had often been in the past, just a great sense of loss, like a gaping hole opening in her abdomen.

Compassion stirred within her as she saw tears begin to stream down Aang’s face from under his closed dark lashes. Bumi’s little hand reached up to her face, and she realized that she was crying too. She looked down into her son’s wide perplexed eyes, and took his chubby little hand in hers and kissed it, reassuring him that everything was all right.

Katara could not understand the words of the chant, although she recognized the intonations as Aang’s native tongue, the long-lost Air Nomad dialect. She bit back regret that she had not learned more of his language, so that she could know the meaning of the chant. Silently she vowed to try harder to learn.

But knowing the meaning of the words or not, there was no doubting the sacredness of this moment:

Aang, eyes closed, tears streaming down his face, chanted in his own language a mantra of his youth with another living being for the first time in over a century.

…………..

Katara looked up from her place at the kitchen counter when she heard a knock on the front door. “Just a moment,” she called out as she quickly set the sliced lotus root she was preparing for dinner into a bowl of water to soak. Wiping her hands on her apron (that bulged comically over her rounded tummy) Katara walked toward the door of their home on Air Temple Island.

With an angry yell coming from Kya’s room, Bumi and one of his friends came barreling from the back of the house, bumping into Katara on their way to the door. “Sorry Mom!” he quipped with a charming crooked smile as the two of them jostled out the front door, nearly knocking the man standing outside it over in their haste.

Katara sighed in exasperation as she saw the door swing shut after them, muffling her son’s “oh, sorry!” to the man he nearly knocked over on the doorstep. She shook her head at her son, now verging on teenagehood, but still just as unwary and haphazard as when he was a toddler.

Opening the door again, Katara saw a young man with a light pack on his back and a parcel wrapped in a cloth in his hands, watching Bumi and his friend running pell-mell down the path towards the docks. As he turned his attention back towards her, she smiled. “Hello. Can I help you?”

The young man smiled nervously. “Um, hi. Are you Master Katara? I’m here to… to see your husband.”

Katara was not surprised by the man’s request – people frequently sought an audience with the Avatar – although she was surprised that he had not been stopped by one of the Acolytes before coming strait to her door. No worry, she would be happy to see what he wanted.

“Aang is in the sanctuary at the moment. Is there something I can help you with?”

The young man tapped the parcel in his hands idly and looked around. “Um, sure. I guess. You see, I’ve come to, um, to maybe join your, um, your Air Acolytes.” His eyes flicked unsurely to Katara for a moment.

Katara’s heart warmed as she smiled at the boy. She never ceased to be amazed at the generosity of those willing to give their lives to keep the Air Nomad’s culture and teachings alive. “Of course. Welcome to Air Temple Island… what did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t. But it’s Aanpa. My Great-great-grandfather was an Air Nomad. I don’t know if you remember, but I met you once, when I was very young. You and the Avatar came to my Great-grandfather’s house.”

Katara’s eyebrows lifted in pleasant surprise. “Oh yes! I remember that day well. Are you the little boy who played the singing bowl?!”

Aanpa smiled widely, and held up the parcel, unwrapping a corner to show her what was inside. “I have it with me now! I wanted to… to um, maybe give it to Avatar Aang. Since it belonged to his people…”

Katara ran her fingers delicately over the edge of the bowl, remembering that day. She remembered the sound of it, how it had called to Appa. How the sound had spiked in her husband a hope that pierced a hundred year of empty looking.

She knew how the hope had hurt Aang, how believing that ‘maybe’, only to be disappointed again, had left his heart raw and exposed. He had tried for days afterwards to build his walls ever higher in an attempt to hide his grief, even from her. But she could see through it. And she understood. And her unwavering embrace had said more than any words could have when he finally leaned into her for strength.

When he was ready, Aang admitted his disappointment. But also his joy to have found a descendant of his people. And how much it had meant to him to Chant with the Kushow La’s son. Despite the pain, Aang felt it was a blessing.

Katara was used to her husband’s ability to see Light. And how he accepted the shadows that, for him, so often accompanied it. Even Aang’s fondest memories carried shadows. But something that Katara loved most about Aang was that even though nothing would ever restore what he had lost, no one was more grateful than he was for every shard of Light to be found.

Katara gently folded the fabric back around the bowl and pushed it back towards Aanpa. “No. This belongs to yourpeople. It is a heritage you and Aang share. Aang will be touched that you would consider giving it to him, but I know he would want you to keep it.”

Then, setting aside her apron and stepping out onto the porch, Katara beckoned to Aanpa to follow her. “Come with me. Let’s go and find Aang.”

The pair could hear the chant carried on the pleasant spring breezes long before they reached the end of the upward winding path that led to the sanctuary. As they reached the entrance, the many-paneled doors swung wide open allowed for the sound to travel freely outward. Many voices spoke as one, the words singing out with the great brass bowl -- this one the size of a barrel -- that was rung carefully by an old Acolyte in saffron robes.

Aanpa stared at the group of Acolytes sitting on the temple’s mosaicked floor, their eyes closed tranquilly as the words of worship and unity spoke from their lips. Katara’s eyes found one blue arrowed brow amidst them, his face peaceful as he joined the chant.

The Acolytes knew many chants. But how fitting that today they would be speaking this one. The same chant that Aang had shared with Aanpa’s great-grandfather all those years ago.

While the pair watched and listened, Katara, supporting her heavily pregnant belly with one hand, leaned in towards the young man and asked, “Do you recognize it?”

Katara smiled compassionately as Aanpa turned to her with tears in his eyes. “This is the… it’s the same one my great-grandfather… used to…” Aanpa looked back into the sanctuary. “But I never understood it. I don’t know what it means.”

Katara looked back towards the worshippers, sunshine falling freely upon their brows as their many voices in unison resonated out.

“It’s called the Time Mantra. Let me translate it for you.”

Katara paused as she listened to the words as they rang out vibrantly. “Time is wind. No one can hold it. No one can stop its course,” she translated. “Time, like the wind, blows past, ever flowing, ever moving, stopping for not a soul.”

She paused listening for the next line, “See how it shapes the mountains. See how it moves the seas.”

Katara could see the young man swallow thickly as she continued. “How will I let it move me, what will I let Time bring?”

The last of the chant came to a pulsating stop as Katara’s voice spoke the last line in silence. “Now is the only chance, to rein what Time shapes in me.”

The two stood together, hearing the echo of the chant in the silence. Katara felt the baby kick within her. She watched to catch Aang’s eyes when they opened, a giant smile bursting on his face when he saw her standing there. He looked happy, a fullness of peace in his demeanor.

Katara turned to Aanpa and took his elbow kindly, moving him forward into the sanctuary. “Come, Bhu-la Aanpa. Let’s go in and say hi, shall we?”

…………

The Time Mantra

Time is wind. No one can hold it. No one can stop its course.

Time, like the wind, blows past, ever flowing, ever moving, stopping for not a soul.

See how it shapes the mountains. See how it moves the seas.

How will I let it move me? What will I let Time bring?

Now is the only chance, to rein what Time shapes in me.

………..

Incense

Artifacts

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

To read this series on AO3:

<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27159106">Memories in the Wind</a> (13682 words) by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADCurtis">ADCurtis</a> Chapters: 3/3 Fandom: <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/tags/Avatar:%20The%20Last%20Airbender">Avatar: The Last Airbender</a> Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar) Characters: Aang (Avatar), Katara (Avatar), Bumi II (Avatar) Additional Tags: Post-Avatar: The Last Airbender, Air Nomads (Avatar), Air Nomad Genocide (Avatar), Aang (Avatar) Needs a Hug Summary: A sound carried on the winds lead Aang and Katara to hope for something seeming long lost.

#aang love #avatar aang #the last airbender #ALTA #kataang #cloud babies

26 notes · View notes

atomic-taco-muffin · 3 years

Text

The Lost Princess Chapter 66

Warnings: Angst/fluff, I guess. Again, still don’t know

Rating: SFW

(this gif is so adorable)

Ansem and Xemnas brought your unconscious body over to Master Yen Sid’s where he was able to remove the Negaverse from your body. After some time, you were back to normal and went to go join the others in the Kingdom of Corona. You and the others walked through a picturesque forest. Goofy put his hand up to block the sun.

“It sure is a pretty day,” he said. You and Sora stretched your arms.

“Yeah, the weather is great. It'd be perfect for a picnic,” Sora said.

“Agreed,” you said.

“You doing okay, sis?” Vanitas asked.

“For the last time, Vani. I’m fine. Xemnas was able to catch it before it spreaded.”

“Why do you think we came HERE?” Donald asked.

“Got me, Donald,” Sora said.

“We'll figure it out as we go,” Rumi said.

“Okay,” Donald sighed.

“I'm sure we were brought to this world for SOME good reason, but can't we sweat it later?” Roxy said.

“Fine with me, as long as there's no Heartless and you not going ballistic on shit,” Yui said.

“Hey!” You and the others heard a scream and stopped in your tracks, looking around for the source of it. Then with grunting and a final slide, a man fell down the hill behind them. He groaned, massaging his back, then looked back where he came from, where a troop of Heartless flew down after him. The man got up and scampered away, the satchel on his hip flapping with every step. He ran towards you and the others with the Heartless on his tail, flailing his arms wildly.

“Make way! Make way! Make way!” he said. Sora, Vanitas, Donald and Goofy parted so he can pass them, then summon their weapons, you and the girls following close behind.

“Heartless!” you said. The man found a rock to hide behind, catching his breath and peering out at the group.

“You see? Soon as you mention 'em, they show up!” Yui said.

“There goes our picnic,” Goofy said.

“I didn't do it!” Roxy said.

“Sure you didn’t,” Vanitas said.

“S'okay. Let's send these guys packing,” Sora said.

“Say, since you three seem to know what you're doing, mind if I leave this one to you?” the guy said.

“Yup. We'll take care of them. Go on, skedaddle!” you said.

“You have my thanks.” The dashing man gave off a sigh. “The horse was enough. Don't need any monsters on my trail.”

“The WHAT was enough?” Roxy cackled.

“Roxy!” Yui scolded.

“Oh, nothing, nothing. Name's Flynn. Flynn Rider,” the man said. He then pointed at a Heartless. “Ohh! Watch out, they look mad!”

Roxy and Yui turned back to the task at hand and Flynn started creeping away.

“Slowly... Slowly... Outta here!” he said. He dashed away as fast as he can while you and the others took out the multitude of Heartless. After the fight, you all saw no sign of Flynn Rider.

“Huh? Where the hell did Flynn go?” Vanitas asked.

“He skedaddled,” Donald said.

“I think I saw him go thataway,” Goofy said. He pointed toward a spot between the trees that veered into a small clearing with rocky hills on each side.

“Huh? But ‘thataway’ is...just a dead end,” Sora said.

“Yeah. That's puzzling,” Rumi said.

“Well, did he?” Roxy asked. Goofy crossed his arms, thinking.

“I say we investigate,” you said. You and the others searched the area for Flynn and approached the rocky hillside ahead.

“He couldn't have come this way,” Yui said. Sora saw no exit nearby and turned to face you and the others, his back to a patch of leafy vines.

“Well, at least he got away safe. Right?” he said. He tried to lean against the vines, but stumbled right through them. Goofy turned at the rustling sound, but Sora had disappeared.

“Hey! Now Sora's gone, too!” he said. He walked over to the vines and heard Sora's voice through them.

“This way, guys! It's a secret passage!” Sora said. Sora stood up as you and the others pulled the vines apart to find a small hollow in the mountain. You all ran through the cave until emerging into a small valley with a lone tower standing in its center. Made mostly of brick, the tower had vines running along its side indicating it must have been there for years. Behind the tower, a waterfall ran over the mountainside into a small pond that glistened in the sunlight.

“Look at that. A tower! Let's check it out!” you said. As you all neared the base of the tower, you all saw Flynn climbing down the stones on the outside with a pair of arrows. He paused, resting for a moment, when Rapunzel flung her hair down out the window, rappelling herself down the tower. She stopped before she hit the ground and slowly extended a barefoot to the warm grass beneath. She took in the feeling of her first taste of earth and knelt down, feeling the ground under her hands.

“It's so soft!” she said. Several dandelion seeds flew into the wind before her and she stood. “I'm free... I'm really free!”

She started running, not even noticing you and the others as she passed you all. You and the others ran over to Flynn as he reached the bottom of the tower.

“Flynn, good to see you in one piece!” Sora said.

“Guys! You're here, and just in time,” Flynn said. Rapunzel stepped into the pond, laughing as she stepped over the small stones lining the bottom.

“Uh... Who's she?” Vanitas asked.

“Uh, that would be Rapunzel,” Flynn said. Rapunzel took a handful of water and splashed it upwards with a shout of glee and loud laughter.

“Something tells me this could be her first time outdoors. Give her a few minutes to get used to it,” Flynn said.

“First time EVER?” you asked, wide eyed. The sun beat down on her golden hair as she took in her decision. She grabbed her face.

“I can't believe I did this!” She said happily. She grabbed her face.

“I can't believe I did this,” she said shocked. She then spun around.

“I can't believe I DID this!” she said, excitedly. She gasped.

“Mother would be so furious if she knew I disobeyed her and left the tower...” she said worriedly. She sat on a rock holding a flower.

“But that's okay--I mean, what she doesn't know won't kill her... Right?” she said, being carefree. She cried in the hollow cave

“Oh my gosh. This would kill her,” she said, sadly. She ran through the grass, kicking up leaves. Donald laughed while Flynn rolled his eyes.

“This is so fuuuuuun!” she shouted. She leaned her head against a tree.

“I am a horrible daughter. I'm going back,” she said, devastated. She did cartwheels through the flowers, wrapping herself in her hair.

“I am never going back!” she said, exuberantly. She laid face down on the ground.

“I am a despicable human being,” she said in grief. She swung around a large tree by her hair where you, Flynn, Vanitas, and Sora waited for her to even out.

“Best. Day. Ever!” she said, exhilarated. She sobbed into her hands at the base of the tree. Flynn walked over to her, with you and the others following.

“I notice you seem a little at war with yourself here,” Flynn said.

“A little MORE than a little,” Vanitas said.

“More like a lot,” Roxy said.

“Yeah...” Rumi said. Rapunzel stopped crying and turns to see you and the others. She gasped and held out the frying pan towards you all.

“Stop right there! Who are you?” she said. Flynn steps in-between.

“I told you before: my sidekicks,” he said.

“Sidekicks?! Oh, hell no! If anything you’re the sidekick here!” Roxy said.

“Roxy! Sorry about my sister here. She doesn’t know when to shut up,” Yui said.

“Anyways. May I introduce, ehh...” Flynn said.

“Oh, uh... My name's Sora.”

“Donald!”

“I’m (Y/N).”

“Hi, my name’s Rumi.”

“Vanitas.”

I’m Yui and you’ve met my twin sister Roxy.”

“And I'm Goofy. Pleasure, ma'am.” A chameleon appeared from under Rapunzel’s hair, skeptical of them.

“Sora, Donald, (Y/N), Rumi, Vanitas, Yui, Roxy, and...Goofy,” she said. She lowered the frying pan. “It's...nice to meet you, too. I'm Rapunzel.”

“Yep. My sidekicks,” Flynn said. Sora grabbed Flynn's arm and spun him around.

“Since when is THAT?” Sora whispered.

“Look, she really wants to see the lantern show tomorrow night. Now, I'm a nice guy, so I've decided to help her. Only problem is those monsters might show up again. I can get her to the Kingdom--but you guys are clearly more cut out for combat,” Flynn whispered back.

“That's cause we're heroes!” Donald said.

“Uh-huh!”

“And we're Heartless experts,” Goofy said.

“Yeah, yeah!”

“And Negaverse destroyers!” you said.

“Totally!” You all posed together and Sora gave a small laugh.

“Just leave it to us!” he said.

“Done,” Flynn said. He motioned to Rapunzel and lead her forward.

“Rapunzel is interesting...” Rumi said. You and the others walked behind them as Rapunzel admired her surroundings.

“Yeah, her heart's pulling her all kinda ways,” Goofy said.

“The outside world must seem so big and scary. I know how she feels. Lucky for me you guys came along at just the right time--and the rest has been unforgettable,” you said.

“I know how she feels too,” Sora said.

“Awww...” Donald said. You realized that you were getting sentimental.

“Yep, unforgettable...just like your face!” you said as you pointed to Vanitas’s face.

“Oh yeah?!” Vanitas asked. You laughs as Vanitas bursted out in anger. You ran to catch up to Rapunzel and Flynn, putting your hands behind your head. Goofy and the others chuckled as Vanitas seethed.

“C'mon, now,” Sora said. He and the others ran up to you and Vanitas followed.

“All for one, and one for all,” you said. Soon, you all reached a patch of wildflowers and something caught Rapunzel's attention.

“Oh, look. What is that? It's so fluffy!” she said. She ran up to the ball of fluff and inspected it, her fingers grazing the surface. Into the air sprouted multiple tufts of fluff that, when they reached the ground, burst into Puffball Heartless. The Chief Puff itself pulled out of the ground and stared at her with its glowing yellow eyes, scaring her.

“Heartless!” Sora said. You and the others run ahead of her and summon your weapons and guardians.

“Rapunzel, take cover!” Vanitas said. She ran back to Flynn, throwing her arms around him and using him as a shield. At first he was surprised, but smirked soon after, seeing an out.

“All right, I hate to say it, but I'm lettin' you outta this deal,” he said. She loosened her grip on him.

“What?” she asked.

“It's way too scary out here. Let's just turn around and take you home.” He tried to get her to walk back, but she whirled around and punched him in the chest

“No. I am seeing those lanterns,” she said. Rapunzel bravely gathered her hair in her arms and ran back to you, Sora and company.

“Oh, come on!” Flynn said.

“Rapunzel?” Yui asked.

“It's okay. I'm not afraid to face them,” Rapunzel said. You all engaged the plant-like Heartless and took them down. Meanwhile, back at the tower, Mother Gothel had returned to find Rapunzel missing. She scrambled through the house in desperation.

“Rapunzel?” she asked. She ran into her room.

“Rapunzel!” She frantically teared down the curtain covering the window, but found no one there. She clutched her face in terror before a glint of light caught her eye from beneath the stairs. She opened the bottom step and pulled out a satchel. Reaching into the satchel, she removed a sparkling tiara and at the sight of it, dropped it in fear. Terrified, she looked further in the bag, taking out a Wanted poster for one Flynn Rider.

“Missing someone?” Mother Gothel whirled around.

“Who’s there?” she asked. Stepping out from a portal was a man in a black coat with long rose-colored hair. The abrupt entrance caused the frightened woman to drop the poster as Marluxia stepped closer. (or mar-ploof-a as i like to call him)

“She's such a precious gift. Allow me to assist you in getting her back,” he said. Mother Gothel's eyes slowly turned pink. As You, Vanitas Sora, Donald, Rumi, the twins, Goofy, Rapunzel and Flynn continued their trek to the Kingdom, they find a large field of...

“Dandelions!” Rapunzel said. She ran ahead into the patch of flowers. “Look! Watch.”

She knelt down and blew on a few of them, sending their seeds into the air.

“Oh yeah, I thought that might work. But I wish there was a way to make more fly at once,” she said.

“Rumi,” Roxy smiled. Rumi smiled back and summoned Nyx. Nyx let out a roar and wafted the large patch of them into the air. The floated past Rapunzel's wide-eyed stare.

“They're just like the floating lights,” she said.

~Le Time Skip~

You and the others left the lake and continued through the forest, Rapunzel's long hair trailing behind her as you all came upon a strange plant stuck in the ground in a clearing alone.

“Okay. That's suspicious,” Flynn said.

“Rapunzel...” Sora said.

“Don't worry. I know to be careful around flowers now,” Rapunzel winked.

“Whatever it is, it's not normal. I'll take a look,” you said.

“Um, no you’re not,” Vanitas said.

“Vani, I told you I’m fine!” After a few minutes of debating, you walked closer to the plant.

“Watch it,” Donald said. You approached the odd vegetation and examined it while everyone waited with bated breath. After seeing no imminent threat from the flower, you turned to the group.

“All clear!” you said. They sighed with relief, but too late, as the flower's petals opened, folding downward as its form changed to that of a creature holding a scythe with a familiar symbol on its face.

“(Y/N)!” Vanitas said, alarmed. He pointed behind you, who turned just in time as the pink and white creature swung its immense scythe at you along with a few Negaverses. You dodged away and summoned Odile with gritted teeth, joined by Sora and the others.

“These guys?” Sora asked. More of them appeared.

“They're Nobodies!” Goofy said.

“Now, I feel what Uncle Ansem feels!” Roxy said.

“Mother said the outside world would be full of ruffians and thugs,” Rapunzel said.

“Those aren't ruffians. Those are...uhh, I dunno...” Donald said.

“They’re more like puppets,” Yui said.

“Rapunzel, Flynn, stay back!” Sora said.

“No. I want to help you fight,” Rapunzel said.

“I know. But I'm afraid you can't hurt these guys with a frying pan. Trust me on this. Flynn, could you explain?” you said.

“No problem. Knowing when to flee is one of my specialties,” Flynn said. He rushed to Rapunzel. “C'mon, Rapunzel. Gotta go.”

“But--”

“Look, I wanna stay and slug it out too, but my sidekicks have it covered.”

“STOP CALLING US SIDEKICKS!” Roxy yelled.

“All right. Please be careful,” Rapunzel said. They nodded and left you and the others to it. You and the others took out all the Reaper Nobodies and Negaverses and regrouped.

“You know who uses Nobodies...” Rumi said.

“The Organization!” Donald said.

“Yeah. I'm surprised we haven't seen 'em,” Vanitas said.

“I know you're there! Come out, you has-beens!” you called out, causing the twins to giggle. You and the others looked around and a corridor of darkness appeared behind you all.

“‘Has-beens’? Now why would you say that?” a familiar voice asked. A tall man with long pink hair emerged from the portal, peering at them through yellow eyes.

“Because, bossing around Nobodies? That's the old Organization,” you chuckled, the girls giggling behind you. “Why? Are you in the ‘real’ one too? Good for you.”

“My name is Marluxia, and yes, that is correct. How interesting it is to see you again, Sora and (Y/N).”

“‘Again’?” Sora asked. You and Sora looked at Donald and Goofy confused.

“Oh right, we remember,” Yui said.

“A shame you've no memory of me, because I remember you exceedingly well. Although...it's THOSE memories I'd soon erase,” Marluxia said.

“We have no idea what the hell you’re saying,” you said.

“Nor should you. Nor will you ever, for that matter.” You, Rumi, Vanitas, and the trio glanced at him with confused faces while the twins glared at him. “Now, if you'll permit me, I've come to ask a favor.”

“Favor? You have got to be kidding me,” Vanitas said. You and the others nodded in agreement.

“Please hear what I have to say. I'm sure you've noticed...” Marluxia said. He mused on this for a moment and Sora raised his eyebrows for him to continue. “Well, perhaps not. But you should know that maiden with you, Rapunzel, is the very light of this world. I would see you guard her from its dark horrors.”

“Huh?” you all asked, surprised. You all took defensive stances.

“Starting with you, right?” Roxy asked.

“All the Organization seeks is balance. You must understand, our ultimate objective is not to clash with the light. We seek to complement it. Use that Keyblade...to keep Rapunzel safe,” Marluxia said. He vanished in a corridor of darkness.

“Rapunzel’s light...” you said. Goofy scratched his face and Sora looked around.

“Hey. Where did they go?” he said.

“I guess they musta run on ahead,” Goofy said.

“Then we'd better go find them,” Rumi said. You and the others continued through the forest in search of Flynn and Rapunzel. Soon the forest turned into marshland and the fog obscured your view ahead. Still no sign of them, Sora sighed.

“I wonder where they went,” he said.

“Don't worry. They couldn't have gotten too far,” you said. A hooded figure quickly hid behind a tree.

“You just had to stop and talk to our Uncle Marluxia,” Roxy said. Mother Gothel peered at them from beneath her cloak.

“Hey! Blame the has-been, not us,” Sora said. Mother Gothel averted her gaze and began to leave.

“Hellooo? Rapunzel? Flynn?” Vanitas called. She stopped at Rapunzel's name and turned back, lowering her hood.

“Excuse me, good travelers. Do you know Rapunzel?” she said. You and the others turned to her as she walked toward you all and exchanged glances.

“Uh, yeah... Sort of,” Yui said.

“Why?” Donald asked.

“My apologies. I'm Rapunzel's mother. The poor child left home without a word, and I've just been worried sick. Please tell me: where is my dear, sweet girl?”

“We'd tell ya, but we lost her,” Goofy said.

“By accident,” Rumi said.

“We could look together,” Sora said.

“Lost her?” she scoffed. “You're of no use to me.”

She waved you all off and continued walking.

“Bitch,” Roxy muttered.

“She ran away from home?” Donald asked.

“What if Uncle Marluxia was onto something back there?” Yui asked.

“You trust Organization XIII?” Vanitas asked.

“What? No! Of course not. Not after what happened! But...what if?”

“I agree. Why is Rapunzel in danger, and what darkness is after her?” Roxy said.

“Well, guys, the first step is to find her,” Sora said. You and the others searched for Rapunzel and Flynn, eventually exiting the marshland into more bright forest. Soon, you all heard a voice.

“Wh-wh-whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy, boy, easy! Settle down. Whoa, whoa!” Rapunzel said.

“That voice!” you said.

“It's Rapunzel!” Rumi said.

~Le Time Skip~

After meeting Maximus and regrouping, you and the others had arrived at the kingdom. You and the others crossed the bridge and entered the castle town, Rapunzel giggling to herself all the way. (i wished they added the scene where flynn and maximus fought each other over a poster)

“Rapunzel sure looks happy,” Vanitas said.

“She does,” you said.

“Well, her dream's gonna come true. They're sendin' the lanterns up after dark,” Goofy said.

“Cool! We don't wanna miss that!” Sora said. You and the others entered the Thoroughfare, where Rapunzel had her hair braided and adorned with wildflowers. She spotted a large tiled mural of the king and queen holding their baby daughter. She peered down where a girl was placing a flower at its base. Rapunzel looked up at the baby on the mural, who had green eyes and flowing blonde hair just like her. Music started suddenly, distracting her, and she gleefully began dancing in the street. A crowd of people gathered around and join in and Flynn stood watching her. Sora got an idea and pulled you onto the dance floor.

“Sora, what the hell are you doing?” you asked.

“I’m dancing with you. Come on!” he said. You giggled and danced with Sora. after dancing, you and the others headed towards the docks. As you were watching the lanterns, you remembered how you would watch lanterns with Vanitas on your birthday. You chuckled at the memory.

“What?” Sora asked.

“Before I met you and Riku, Vanitas and I would watch lanterns that came on my birthday, like Rapunzel,” you said.

“Oh, yeah. I remember that,” Vanitas said. You all sensed a disturbance from behind as Reaper Nobodies and Negaverses appeared on the wharf. You all got up and turned around, irked.

“Seriously? You just had to ruin the moment?” you asked, sarcastically.

“I don't think they appreciate the moment, (Y/N),” Yui said.

“Not one bit!” Roxy said.

“It's time for these wet blankets to go!” Sora said. You and the girls summoned your guardians while Sora and the others summoned their weapons. You all took care of the Nobodies and Negaverses plaguing the wharf as Rapunzel waited by the shore with Pascal. Out of the fog over the water emerged a small sailboat.

“Eugene?” she asked. From shore, she saw what looked like Flynn steering the sailboat with the stolen tiara in his hand.

“Eugene!” she said. Unknown to Rapunzel, he was out cold and tied to the mast and helm.

“Oh dear... He's run off with the crown and forgotten you,” Marluxia said as he appeared behind her.

“No. He wouldn't. Who are you?” she said. He didn’t answer and she looked back at the boat, still drifting away.

“Forget Flynn Rider. You know where you belong, and it's not with him. Now...” Marluxia said. He motioned with his hand and two Reaper Nobodies appeared in front of Rapunzel along with two Negaverses. She ran away in fear and Marluxia smiled. She ran toward an opening between two large rocks, trying not to stumble when her braided hair caught on a fallen log. She pulled on it, trying to free it from the branch, when she heard a voice.

“Rapunzel!” Mother Gothel said.

“Mother?” Rapunzel walked back to the shoreline, where the Nobodies and Negaverses had disintegrated and Mother Gothel stood with a tree branch in her arms, out of breath. She perked up at the sight of Rapunzel.

“Oh, my precious girl!” she said.

“Mother...” Rapunzel ran into her mother’s arms.

“Are you all right? Are you hurt?” Mother Gothel asked as she touched Rapunzel’s face.

“M-Mother, how did you--”

“I was so worried about you, dear. So I followed you. And I saw them attack you, and--” Mother Gothel hugged Rapunzel tightly. “Oh my. Let's go. Let's go, before they come to.”

Rapunzel stopped and looked back at the boat on the lake. She slowly turned back to Mother Gothel, holding a green lantern in her hand. Rapunzel paused as Mother Gothel set the lantern down and opened her arms, beckoning her. Rapunzel's lip quivered and she started to cry, running into her mother's embrace. Mother Gothel stroked her hair as she sobbed. You and the others entered and saw the two leaving.

“Hey, isn't that Rapunzel?” Sora asked. He cupped his hands to his face.

“Wait! Rapunz--” he shouted. Marluxia appeared in front of you all.

“Show some decorum,” he said.

“You again!” Donald said.

“Uncle Marluxia!” the twins and Rumi said.

“The girl has found her dear mother. You should let them be,” Marluxia said.

“And why is that?” you asked.

“Because Rapunzel is far too important. Atop her tower, she must remain out of sight, and live out her days with Mother Gothel.”

“And never see anyone again?” Goofy asked.

“But that's like...locking her in some prison!” Sora said.

“That is EXACTLY what it's like. Rapunzel's hair holds the powerful magic of healing. And yes, Mother Gothel wants it for herself. As do others. And, if Mother Gothel's actions will protect Rapunzel, preserve her...then she is doing the Organization a favor.”

“What favor?” Vanitas asked.

“Let's say she's keeping Rapunzel on the shelf for us. An extra pawn in case you fail to find the remaining guardians of light, and we have occasion to call on other hearts of light instead. A New Seven Hearts to fill out the ranks.”

“‘New seven hearts’?” Yui asked.

“Yes. Seven who inherited the princesses' light after their role was fulfilled.”

“So, you don't care about her. You guys just want Rapunzel for your own purposes! Well, you're done here! ODILE!” you said as you summoned Odile while Sora summoned his Keyblade.

“Hmph. I just knew you would go and make a scene. Very well, then it's lights out for you,” Marluxia said. He extended a hand, blowing a pink wind toward you and Sora. He dropped the Keyblade while Odile disappeared, your eyes drooping.

“Sora! (Y/N)!” Vanitas and the others said. They ran towards you and him as your vision got hazy, your ears muffled.

“You two were always such sound sleepers,” Marluxia said as you and Sora fell to the ground.

“What did you do?!” Roxy asked.

“Nothing that would harm Sora.”

“But what about (Y/N)?” Yui growled. Just then, Negaverses surrounded you and the group.

“You son of a bitch...” Vanitas said. The twins growled and stood up. They linked their hands together and raised their other hands in the air.

“SAPPHITE, WE SUMMON YOU!” they yelled. Fire surrounded the twins and their wolves were summoned. Rumi stood up as well and gathered enough wind to summon her guardian.

“COME TO ME, NYX!” she yelled. The wind formed the shape of her bear guardian and Nyx was formed.

“Have fun, girls,” Marluxia said as he disappeared. The twins growled and attacked a Negaverse.

“Vanitas, watch over (Y/N) and Sora. We’ll handle things,” Yui said. Vanitas nodded and ran over to you and Sora. The girls, Donald, and Goofy started attacking the Negaverses and defeated all of them. Meanwhile, a recently escaped Flynn dashed on Maximus over the bridge away from the city. The morning sun brightened the sky as he rode toward the forest, encountering Donald, Rumi, the twins, Vanitas, and Goofy hovering over a still-sleeping you and Sora.

“Whoa, Max! Whoa, boy,” he said. Maximus stopped in front of you and the others.

“Flynn!” Vanitas said.

“Are Sora and (Y/N) okay?” Flynn asked.

“We don't know,” Rumi said.

“We keep callin' their names and shakin' them, but they won't open their eyes,” Goofy said.

“Sora!” Donald said.

“(Y/N)!” Vanitas said.

“Wake up!” Yui said.

“Hmm... Unresponsive sidekick... Wait a minute. I know how to fix this! Max, give them a wash!” Flynn said. Maximus licked you and Sora's face with his long tongue, rousing the two of you from your sleep. You and Sora opened your eyes seeing Flynn and Maximus looking down at the two of you. Donald and the others peeked into view.

“Sora! (Y/N)!” they said as you and Sora sat up.

“Well, that did the trick. Nice work, Max!” Flynn said. Maximus smiled haughtily. Sora stood and held his head while you leaned on Roxy for support.

“Huh? How did we end up...” Sora asked. Suddenly, the events came back to you and Sora.

“Oh no! Flynn, Rapunzel's being held prisoner!” you said. Donald and the others nodded in agreement.

“That's right. In her mother's tower. This calls for a rescue,” Flynn said. He smiled down at Sora and extended a hand. “Are you with me?”

“Yeah!” Sora said. Flynn pulled Sora up onto the horse with a proud cackle. The twins summoned Sapphite and you, Vanitas, and Rumi climbed on while Donald and Goofy climbed on Maximus. Maximus's legs buckled, struggling to hold them up, but his face changed to one of determination. He let out a whinny and stood straight up.

“Let's go, Max,” Flynn said. Maximus reared back and charged forward, Saphhite following close behind. You all raced through the forest in the direction of the tower, when you all were intercepted by a group of Nobodies and Negaverses.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, Max!” Flynn said. Sora, Donald and Goofy nodded to each other and jumped off Maximus and Vanitas jumped off Sapphite, summoning their weapons while you and the girls summoned your weapons while still on Sapphite.

“We'll take it from here, Flynn. Go help Rapunzel,” Yui said.

“Thanks!” Flynn said. He took off with Maximus, leaving the Nobodies to you and the others. As you all followed along through the forest, the path was filled with Heartless. You and the others defeated each wave in turn. By the time you all arrived, Flynn had climbed up and entered the tower.

“Rapunzel! I thought I'd never see you again,” he said. He looked up, seeing Rapunzel chained and gagged. Her eyes widen as Mother Gothel sneaked behind him, striking a hidden dagger into his side. Rapunzel struggled to get free, crying out as Flynn fell over onto the floor. Mother Gothel looked down at him, squirming in pain on the stone floor. She tugged on Rapunzel's chains trying to lead her deeper into the tower, the girl desperate to get free.

“Rapunzel, really! Enough already! Stop fighting me!” Mother Gothel said. Rapunzel, pulling back, lost her balance and fell over, the gag slipping from her mouth.

“No! I won't stop! For every minute of the rest of my life, I will fight! I will never stop trying to get away from you! But...if you let me save him, I will go with you,” she said. Mother Gothel raised an eyebrow.

“No! No, Rapunzel...” Flynn grunted as he attempted to crawl on the floor but the pain was too great. Pascal looked on helplessly.

“I'll never run... I'll never try to escape. Just let me heal him...and you and I will be together--forever, just like you want. Every- thing will be the way it was. I promise. Just like you want. Just...let me heal him,” Rapunzel said. Mother Gothel released Rapunzel and shackled Flynn.

“In case you get any ideas about following us,” she said to Flynn. Rapunzel rushed to Flynn's side.

“Eu...Eugene!” she said. She brushed the hair out of his eyes and he clutched his side, struggling to sit up against the wall. She checked at his wound, obviously bleeding.

“Oh, I'm so sorry. Everything is gonna be okay, though,” she said as she gathered her hair into her arms.

“No...Rapunzel...” Flynn groaned.

“I promise. You have to trust me.” She placed the hair over his wound.

“No! I can't let you do this.” They stared into each other's eyes.

“And I can't let you die.”

“But if you do this...” Rapunzel touched his face. “...but if you do this, then you will die.”

“Hey. It's gonna be all right,” she whispered. He gave the very smallest of smiles.

“Rapunzel... Wait,” he said. He began to stroke her hair, his face moving closer to hers, and with a swift motion cut off her hair with a shard of the broken mirror. His hand fell to the floor, dropping the glass, as her hair turned brown, its healing ability lost. She looked down at him in shock.

“Eugene, what--” she asked. Absolute terror erupted from Mother Gothel's face.

“No!” she screamed. From the strand in Rapunzel's hands, the once golden locks of hair turned a deep brown. Mother Gothel tried to gather them up in her arms before the magic was lost.

“Oh no. No...” she said. Unable to stop the transformation, she grabbed her hand, watching it become wrinkled and withered.

“What have you done? What have you DONE?!” she asked. The aging spread across her body like a weed, her skin turning pale and her hair a pallid gray. She screamed out in sudden shrieks, her body moving feebly, as she covered her decrepit face with her hood. She writhed about the room, crossing closer to the window, where Pascal pulled on the long bunch of hair, causing her to spill out of the tower. She screamed as she fell, aging out of existence, the shroud flying downward through the air as you and the others reached the base of the tower. Marluxia watched from the hill.

“Fallen to darkness... We can't allow her near our pure light now. Her presence would only cast a pall over it,” he said. He motioned with his arm, suspending the cloak in midair surrounded by petals of pink. An orb of darkness burst forth and branch-like limbs erupted from within, followed by a tail. Another set of limbs, and the creature crashed to the ground, the darkness pulling back, revealing a large tree-like Heartless, the Grim Guardianess. It growled down at you and the others, who summon your weapons along with the guardians.

“What happened up there?” Sora asked.

“I don't know, but we have to stop that Heartless,” Donald said. The Grim Guardianess flew toward you and the others, its tail moving like a serpent, as its large mane of leaves crashed to the ground, sending pollen everywhere. Donald and Goofy were sent into a sneezing fit as thorns surrounded you, Vanitas, the twins, Rumi, and Sora. You all struggled to get free of the thorns' grip before the Heartless slithered around the tower, spiraling to the top. You all broke free from the thorny tether as cherries fell from the sky. You and the others raced across the hill avoiding the cages of vines that blocked your way, as the cherry bombs exploded on impact with the ground. Dodging the torrent of bombs, you and Sora reached the tower and ran up its stone exterior. The Heartless was soon no match for you and Sora, his Keyblade and Odile and was knocked from the tower (this took me months to get past). Inside, Rapunzel clutched Flynn.

“Don't go. Stay with me, Eugene,” she said. You and the others ascended the tower, seeing Rapunzel over Flynn's body. She grabbed his arm and placed it against her hair.

“Flower, gleam and glow. Let your power shine. Make the clock reverse,” she sang through her tears.

“Rapunzel,” Flynn said as he opened his eyes.

“Bring back what once was mine,” she sang. Flynn touched her face.

“Hey. Rapunzel,” he said.

“What?” she asked as she held his hand.

“Rapunzel... You were my new dream.”

“And you were mine.” Flynn blinked once more and his eyes closed, his body falling limp. You and the others looked on sadly as she moved her hand toward his face.

“Heal what has been hurt. Change the Fates' design. Save what has been lost. Bring back what once was mine,” she sang. She moved her hand over his heart and leaned in closer, her face nearly touching his, her song nearly a whisper. “What once was mine.”

She sobbed, a tear falling onto the rogue's skin. It settled there, glowing into the shape of a flower. A light burst forth from Flynn's wound, wrestling Rapunzel from her sorrow. You and the others stared open-mouthed at this sight. The healing magic swirled into the air like strands of hair, wisping around Rapunzel, her eyes wide. A six-pointed flower magically bloomed from the wound, before the light disappeared inside of him. She moved closer to his face, brushing the hair out of her eyes as Flynn slowly took a breath and opened his eyes.

“Rapunzel...” he said. She gasped.

“Eugene,” she said.

“Did I ever tell you...I've got a thing for brunettes?” He smiled and Rapunzel was overcome by joy.

“Eugene!” she said. She threw her arms around him and he leaned on his side to embrace her. You and the others smiled with glee and Sora threw his arms around you and Vanitas, grinning from ear to ear and Flynn tightened his hold on Rapunzel. Later, you all stood at the base of the tower, the warm sunlight bathing over you.

“Wow, Rapunzel! You're finally gonna get to see your real home,” you said.

“I know! I mean...I can't believe it. I can finally be with my real family! I couldn't have done it without your help,” Rapunzel said.

“You’re welcome,” Rumi said. Rapunzel giggled.

“Well, from where I'm standing, the Kingdom couldn't ask for a better princess. And I couldn't have asked for better sidekicks!” Flynn said.

“For the last time, we’re not sidekicks!” Roxy said.

“Anyways, thanks for everything.”

“Yes, thank you so much,” Rapunzel said.

“Happily ever after,” Donald said. Sora crossed his arms.

“Mm-hmm,” he said.

“Now, Flynn, you and Maximus play nice,” Goofy said. Maximus and Flynn exchanged glances.

“Huh?” Flynn asked. Maximus whinnied with laughter. “Fine.”

Rapunzel took Flynn's hand and they stared into each other's eyes.

“You're gonna be great,” Yui said.

“Huh?” Flynn and Rapunzel asked.

“We haven't seen the guy controlling the monsters in a while, so that's one less worry,” Vanitas said.

“But there's still a chance that he might be around here somewhere,” you said.

“Well, if he comes back and tries to bother Rapunzel again, then Flynn will keep her safe. And we three won’t be far behind,” Sora said.

“Come on. Rapunzel's the tough one, if you ask me,” Roxy said.

“True. But nevertheless, I won't let her out of my sight,” Flynn said.

“Oh... Eugene,” Rapunzel smiled.

“‘Eugene?’” you and Sora asked.

“Oh! That's my real name. Eugene Fitzherbert. That's right. I never told you guys,” Flynn chuckled.

“That’s different,” Rumi said.

“I think it's a great name!” Goofy said.

“Me too. Nice to re-meet you, Eugene,” you said.

“Hey! I thought I was the only one you were going to tell,” Rapunzel said to Eugene.

“Don't worry. I've saved plenty of Fitzherbert-y secrets just for you.”

“Really?”

“Hey! What are you two lovebirds talking about?” Sora said (he’s so innocent).

“Nothing!” Flynn said.

“Hey, you can tell us!” Donald said.

“Yeah, it's not nice to keep secrets,” Goofy said.

“You know what they mean, right?” Roxy asked Yui.

“Oh yeah,” Yui replied.

“This one is none of your business,” Eugene said. Vanitas chuckled.

“Maximus, get him!” he said.

“Huh?” Maximus glared at Eugene, an inch from his face, and Eugene stopped, unsure of what to anticipate. Pascal crawled onto Rapunzel's shoulder with a determined look and jumped over to Eugene's, sending his long sticky tongue into his ear. Eugene reeled back and clutched his ear, Pascal jumping off with a squeal of glee.

“You have got to be kidding me!” Eugene said. You and the others burst out laughing. Maximus smiled at Eugene, waggling his eyebrows as Pascal chilled on Eugene's head. Soon after, you and the others left the Kingdom of Corona.

#kingdom hearts #kingdomhearts #kingdom hearts 3 #kh 3 #khiii #kingdom hearts iii #kingdom heartsiii #kingdom hearts imagine #kingdom hearts imagines #kingdom hearts x reader #kingdomhearts x reader #kingdomhearts imagines

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hanaasbananas · 3 years

Text

and in that moment i became yours

AO3

Inspired by the song Lut Gaye (watch the video omg it's crazy dramatic)

As the eyes arose, love endeavoured to shake off drowsiness and an exchange of hearts was made in the moonlit night

As streets went, this one was fairly unremarkable. Quiet, respectable, and lined with uniform houses. If streets could talk, this one would have nothing to say.

That wasn’t to last, though.

The sky was shot through with streaks of pink, orange and even purple, colours rapidly smothered by the velvety blue-black of the night sky until the only source of light came from the lights decorating the exterior of a hotel at the end of the street.

Faint music drifted out from within, along with the muffled conversations and laughter of all those who had gathered for the wedding. No other sound could be heard, but the silence was thick with anticipation, almost as heavy as the warm summer air, waiting for something- anything to happen.

pop-pop-pop!

Gunfire sounded in the distance, followed by squealing tyres. A young man veered suddenly into the street, his rapid footsteps echoing in the silence. Glancing over his shoulder as he ran, he ducked, narrowly avoiding the bullet that whizzed over his head.

“Shit,” he swore, looking around wildly for a place to hide. Eyes alighting on the large cars parked by the side of the hotel, he grinned, leaping up onto the roof and grabbing hold of a string of lights, shimmying his way up and through an open window.

And not a moment too soon, for just as he dropped down from the window ledge—pain lancing up his side from the rough landing— he heard shouts ringing out below him, his pursuers splitting up to find him.

Sitting back against the wall with a groan, Adrien finally dropped his transformation, catching a woozy Plagg in cupped palms. “That was a close one, huh?”

Plagg only opened one eye to glare at him and he chuckled, stroking his kwami softly between his ears before rummaging in his pocket for a well wrapped packet of Camembert. “Here,” he handed it over, “you deserve it.”

While Plagg devoured his cheese, Adrien fired off a quick text:

Told you I wouldn’t be late. What’s my room number again?

Standing, Adrien hissed, hand flying to his abdomen and coming away wet with blood. “Dammit—” he pulled away his shirt from his skin, peering down to assess the damage and swore again.

“What? What is it?” Plagg asked, flying up to hover in front of his face and Adrien smiled grimly.

“Let’s just say it’s a good thing the suit stopped the bullet from going through me.” He checked his phone for a reply, but there was none. “Great,” he muttered under his breath, setting off down the hallway “the one time I need him to text me…”

It was easy work to snag a room key off a bell cart, even easier to find the corresponding room and slip in. Unfortunately, it wasn’t so easy to find an empty room.

Seriously? He groaned internally. I know the black cat has bad luck but really? The fucking bride’s room?

Moving carefully so that she wouldn’t notice him, Adrien stepped backwards, keeping his eyes trained on the bride—who was sat in a high backed chair, her head in her arms—he curled his hand around the doorknob behind him, preparing to turn it quickly and make his escape.

And then, because the universe really wanted to see how much bad luck it could throw at him, there was a knock on the door.

The bride looked up sharply, her eyes widening when she caught sight of him and Adrien found himself momentarily struck by her delicate beauty. Twin spots of pink bloomed across her pale cheeks, and her brow furrowed, taking him in.

Unconsciously, Adrien stood straighter under her examination—a movement he immediately regretted when it tugged at his wound—and he realised with a start that her large bluebell eyes were wet, tears trailing down her cheeks.

Before he could say anything, the knock came again, more insistent this time. Adrien spun around, staring at the door and then at the bride who had risen, making her way tentatively to the door. Panicking, he grabbed her wrist, halting her in her tracks.

“I’m not here, got it?” He hissed, letting go only when she nodded shakily. On impulse, he plucked the veil that she had clutched in her other hand and wiped away her tears, holding onto it when he released her.

Hiding behind the open door, he leaned heavily against a side table, only half listening as the bride got rid of his pursuers. While she talked circles around them, he let his eyes rove over the room, eyebrows rising up on his forehead as he took in the upturned furniture, the torn invitation on the dressing table, the broken glass and spilled wine on the floor.

The door slammed shut, breaking him from his thoughts. “You’re injured.” The bride stated, eyes trained on his shirt where blood had begun to seep through the fabric.

“Nah it’s nothing,” Adrien waved her off, trying to seem nonchalant. From the unimpressed look on her face, he’d failed.

“There’s a first aid kit in the bathroom. Sit down.” Her tone brooked no argument and he nodded quickly as she disappeared into the bathroom.

He’d only just managed to lower himself into a chair when the bride emerged, brandishing a damp washcloth, unaware—or more likely uncaring—of it dripping onto her dress. Mouth set in a hard line, she set the first aid kit on the floor and knelt in front of him. “Open your shirt,” she ordered.

“Well now,” the corner of Adrien’s mouth ticked up in a smirk. “You’re being very forward for a bride to be.”

“Do you want that treated or not?”

“Alright, jeez …”

She bowed her head, inky hair falling over her face in a curtain as she worked carefully to clean the blood from around the wound. “So, who were those guys?” she asked after a long silence. “Better you don’t know,” Adrien shook his head. “It’s none of your business.”

She peered up at him, one eyebrow raised. “I dunno, you kind of made it my business when you broke into my room .”

“Didn’t break in though, did I?” Adrien nodded at the door. “I used the key, same as anyone else.”

“Okay, and how did you acquire this key?”

“Does it matter?”

“You know I don’t have to be this gentle with the first aid,” to prove her point, she pressed a little harder against his wound “so are you gonna give me a straight answer or not?”

Adrien held his hands up in mock surrender, lips twitching as he fought to keep a straight face.

“Alright! You got me! I’m actually the stripper your friends hired to get you to chill out before the wedding.”

The bride snorted. “Yeah because I’d definitely hook up with a stripper an hour before I’m supposed to get married.”

“Well…” Adrien drawled, glancing down at his open shirt. “I mean you’ve already got me half naked.” He hissed when she swiped at his skin with an antiseptic wipe, but any protest died on his tongue when her eyes flicked up to meet his, her eyebrow cocked challengingly.

She’s getting married , he had to remind himself nothing is going to happen. His own eyes drifted down to look at her lips, and his heart stuttered in his chest. Even if I kind of want it to.

Holding his breath, Adrien sat silently, tracing the bride's features and committing them to memory as she continued bandaging him, dipping her head low, her brow furrowed in concentration.

Licking his lips, he searched for a different subject, tilting his head up to stare at the ceiling. Remembering her earlier tears, he couldn’t help but ask “so uh...you wanna talk about why you were so upset earlier?”

“Nope.”

Adrien clicked his tongue. “Fair enough. I just thought-y’know, a bride is usually pretty happy...” he trailed off, lapsing into silence once more.

“It’s a business merger,” she said quietly after a moment. “The wedding is just a way to really solidify it I guess. Join the families, build an empire, that sort of thing.”

“And you aren’t too happy about it,” Adrien guessed. At her glare he shrugged defensively “what? It’s not everyday you see a bride crying the way you were before her wedding. Not in this century, anyway.”

She didn’t respond at first, and then— “I just thought I’d marry for love, you know? Or at least find my soulmate.”

“You don’t think you could love this guy?” he couldn’t hide the amusement from his voice, and she glanced at him suspiciously before shrugging.

“Maybe. He’s a bit of a cold fish though—” Adrien choked on a laugh, tuning it into a wholly unconvincing cough at the last minute.

“What’s so funny?” She demanded hotly, but he shook his head, pressing his lips together to muffle his laughter, and waved his hand for her to continue.

Changing the subject, she huffed quietly. “And you can stop calling me ‘a bride’. It might be hard to believe, but I do actually have a name. It’s Marinette.”

“Cute—” Adrien froze when her cold fingers brushed his skin, a shock running through his entire body at her touch. The bride— Marinette,he corrected himself—had drawn back so quickly he was surprised she hadn’t fallen, her eyes trained on his chest.

Following her gaze, he saw that his skin was glowing at the point of contact. A quick glance confirmed that her own fingertips were shining just as brightly in the unmistakable sign of...sign of…

Soulmates

Swallowing roughly, Adrien met her wide eyed stare with his own. The universe had to be playing a joke on him at this point.

“I—” Marinette began, her expression stricken. “I can’t—”

Adrien’s heart sank in his chest, and he nodded.

There were stories of course. Stories of soulmates who met when it was too late for them to be together; of those who rejected their soulmate in favour of someone they’d chosen themselves. Numerous studies had been done on the subject, examining the various socio-economic factors that influenced a person's decision to accept or reject, but that didn’t make it hurt any less in the moment.

They said you were often drawn to your soulmate even before you’d discovered that’s who they were, but Adrien had never thought the connection would be so immediate. Already, he knew that he would never choose anyone else. Not now. Now when he’d seen Marinette, spoken with her, laughed with her, been entranced by everything that she was.

And all of this only in an hour! How much deeper might he fall, if they had a lifetime together?

But she was about to build a life with someone else.

Adrien’s phone buzzed in his pocket—a reply to the text he’d sent an hour ago,

You’re in room 503 dipshit

He swore, realising just who Marinette would be spending that life with, and clenched his fist around his phone, resisting the urge to throw it across the room. Clearing his throat, he stood abruptly, the chair scraping back roughly. “Uh-th-thanks for...you know,” he gestured to his bandaged chest “for this but I should go. Need to get changed before the wedding and I finally know where my actual room is.”

Instead of looking relieved, Marinette looked even more distressed. “You’re a guest?”

Adrien laughed quietly, “yeah, something like that.”

She didn’t respond, surging up to her feet, an unreadable expression crossing her face, and then—

And then—

And then she was kissing him.

Tugging at the collar of his shirt, she pulled him down, her mouth moving desperately against his, and then he was kissing her back, his hands gripping her waist and holding her flush against him. Their kiss was a hurried clash of lips and tongues and teeth, Adrien chasing the sweet taste of her lips, committing it to memory, his hands tightening before letting go.

Breathing heavily, they pulled away and he rested his forehead against hers. “Why?” he asked. Why would you leave me with this? Why would you show me what I won’t have?

“I always wanted to kiss my soulmate,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. Disentangling herself from his embrace she slumped down in the nearest chair, her head in her hands.

Marinette didn’t look up when he left, but as the door clicked shut behind him, he heard her muffled scream, and found himself cursing the cruelty of the fates.

***

In his room, Adrien dressed slowly, washing the grime from his face, wishing he could just as easily erase the events of the last hour from his mind.

Once he’d deemed himself presentable enough, Adrien resisted the urge to go check on Marinette, and instead made his way downstairs to wait with the rest of the bridal party.

“What the hell happened to you?” Félix groused as soon as he arrived. “You look like shit.”

Adrien rolled his eyes “is that any way to greet your brother?”

“I’m allowed to be snappish,” Félix retorted. “I’m the groom. And you’re late .”

“It’s not my fault you couldn’t text me faster. I couldn’t find my room.”

“I was busy!”

“Look, I’m here now aren’t I?” Adrien snapped “so get over it. When is this thing starting anyway?”

The sooner the wedding was over, the sooner he could make his escape. In his pocket, Plagg pressed against him, trying to comfort him in his own way and Adrien took a deep breath, turning to his scowling brother.

“Sorry,” clapping Félix on the back, he led him to the front “I’m being an asshole.”

“Yeah, you are,” Félix muttered darkly, but there was no heat behind his words. Internally, Adrien sighed. It wasn’t his brother’s fault that he was marrying his soulmate. With Félix set to inherit the company, of course he would be the one roped into the business merger, and Adrien refused to blame him for something that wasn’t his fault.

Well. He could blame him a little. No-one said his feelings had to be rational.

***

As the ceremony began, Adrien forced himself not to look directly at Marinette as she walked down the aisle, led by a man who was easily twice his size. A quick glance at Félix showed that his brother was unaffected, seeming almost bored as he watched Marinette, and Adrien felt a burst of anger at his indifference. How could he care so little, when he was about to marry such an exquisite woman?

Quickly schooling his expression, he made the mistake of letting his eyes skim over the crowd, briefly locking eyes with Marinette, who faltered slightly, hand tightening on her bouquet. He could practically see her mind working, eyes flicking between him and Félix, noting their resemblance. She blanched, eyes never leaving his as she continued down the aisle, though with the veil covering her face, he doubted anyone else noticed.

Struggling to remain calm, Adrien shoved a hand in his pocket, making a tight fist, his nails digging painfully into his palm. It would be over soon, he just had to hold out a little longer, just a little longer...

He’d always dreamt of the great love stories, imagined recreating them all with his soulmate. Turned out all he was gonna get was a tragedy. Already he could feel his heart fracturing in his chest. It really shouldn’t have surprised him as much as it did.

Adrien blinked, focusing his attention on the ceremony again.

The officiant was droning on, Marinette was still staring at him over Félix’s shoulder, he heard someone yawn in the audience. The groomsman beside him shifted restlessly, Marinette was widening her eyes at him, one of the bridesmaids adjusted her glasses. The officiant fell silent, Marinette finally looked away from him, glancing over the audience instead, a furrow appearing between her brows that Adrien felt a sudden urge to smooth away.

He realised what she was about to do in the split second before she moved, and he took a half step forward, just as Marinette ripped the veil from her head and threw it.

“I object to this union!” her voice rang out in the sudden silence, before alarmed murmurs began, and she stared at the guests defiantly, daring them to stop her. Adrien had to swallow a laugh when he saw that she stared the longest at his father, who was already half out of his seat, his expression thunderous.

“Sorry, Félix,” Marinette shot him an apologetic smile, reaching around him to grab Adrien’s hand, pulling him forward and dragging him behind her.

Where their skin touched, their hands began to glow again, intensifying with every second that their hands remained clasped until the light was almost blinding, and still she didn’t let go. Adrien barely heard the ensuing pandemonium, transfixed as he was by the light emanating from their joined hands.

The soulmate identifying glow did not last forever. It usually only occured for the first few hours after a pair found each other, but the intensity of it often depended on the pair's feelings. His heart swelled in his chest and he felt dizzy with excitement at the confirmation that it was real-that he wasn’t the only one affected. That somehow, some way, Marinette had the same feelings.

“So that’s why you were being such a baby,” Félix’s unruffled voice cut through the chaos that surrounded them, his expression bemused, and any other time Adrien would have rolled his eyes. Before he could say anything though, Félix had darted forward, pressing his car keys into his hand. “Jesus, will you two go already?! I’ll handle things here.”

They didn’t need to be told twice.

Marinette hitched up her skirts in one hand, never once letting go of him and they weaved through the crowd, pushing against those who tried to stop them until finally, they made it out onto the street. The wedding car was parked out front and they scrambled in, slamming the doors shut behind them.

For a long moment, they simply sat slumped in the seats, breathing heavily and relishing in the sudden silence, Behind his closed eyelids, Adrien could still see the glow from their touch, and he cracked open one eye, peering down to see that while Marinette had loosened her hold on him, she had yet to release his hand. Not that he minded.

Turning to face her, Adrien bought her hand up to his mouth. Brushing his lips across her knuckles, he peered up at her through his eyelashes. “Where to?” he asked, a grin pulling at his lips.

Marinette’s eyes were sparkling, her cheeks flushed. “Anywhere.” She said “Everywhere. I don’t care. As long as you come with me.”

He leaned forward then, letting go of her hand to cup her face instead, one hand sliding behind her neck to draw her closer, the other tangling in her silken hair as he captured her lips in a kiss.

This time, their kiss was unhurried, Marinette’s mouth pliant underneath his as she melted against him. She bought her hands up to clutch at his shoulders, pulling him forward, her fingers burying in his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp until he groaned into her mouth, a fire igniting in his blood. Between them, the gear stick dug into his stomach, but he hardly noticed. Eventually, they pulled away, breathing heavily, and Adrien smiled, dipping his head to peck her on the lips once, twice more.

“Always.”

To God in heaven, I have only one prayer to see the moon with you every night

#this fic is so strange? idk how to categorise it #love it tho #miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #hanaas bollywood playlist

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heyyy-hey-babyyy · 4 years

Text

They’re All Wax. Everyone.

Part II

Read part I here

Summary: Dean and Y/N investigate the disappearance of some college kids in the small town of Ambrose, only for Y/N to be captured and hurt. Dean looks for her and finds unimaginable horrors.

Pairing: Dean X reader

WARNINGS: Canon-typical violence, horror movie scenes

House of Wax (2005) Fusion with Supernatural

4079 words.

Notes: Please note that I changed the plot a bit, because some of it would not make sense if the main character was Dean Winchester. Just saying.

Spoilers for House of Wax (2005) below.

______________________________________

You felt your knees giving out and your eyes beginning to droop, wanting nothing more than to succumb to the feeling that closing your eyes would give. Your entire body began to ache, but you felt Dean’s arm snake around your shoulders protectively, dragging you along with the group as they walked. You heard the voices of the others, but the pain in your head was intensifying and all you wanted was to lay down on the ground and sleep for a while. Anything to get rid of the pain behind your eyes. You began to let your body go slack when you felt Dean’s arm tighten.

“Y/N.” He muttered; his lips close to your ear. He pulled you back up to a standing position, bearing much of your weight against his side. “Sweetheart. You have to keep your eyes open, okay?”

You nodded your head lightly, focusing on the leather boots you were wearing as they clomped loudly against the cement, Dean practically dragging you along. You were all stopped in the middle of the road, Carley and her brother both checking the bright screens of their phones.

“Shit.” Nick scoffed, putting the phone back into his pocket, Carley mimicking his movements.

Dean balanced you against his shoulder and reached into his own pocket, drawing out his phone.

“No service.” He muttered more to himself, gnawing down on his bottom lip as he thought, glancing at you quickly with a pained expression.

Dean knew he wouldn’t be able to carry you all the way to the car in the state you were in, and without cell service he wouldn’t be able to get ahold of Sam for help. And with that jerk from the service station still out there it wasn’t safe to be standing in the middle of the deserted street with nothing but Dean’s gun to protect them. He had checked Y/N quickly for her gun but didn’t find it. Suddenly he remembered something the guy had said.

“He said he had a brother, right?” Dean asked, looking directly at Nick.

“Yeah,” Nick nodded. “Vincent.”

Charley chimed in saying, “at the House of Wax, he did all the sculptures. He’s gotta be the one who does the wax. What if he’s around here somewhere?” She added looking anxious, glancing toward the sickly pale building we saw advertisements for on the way into town. Trudy’s House of Wax.

Dean stood you solidly in the middle of the road, making sure you wouldn’t fall over, before turning around in the general direction the guy had pointed and seeing a giant house on a hill. He wasn’t one to take risks with the lives of the people he was trying to protect, but they didn’t have a lot of options with no wheels, little to no weapons, and down a hunter. He made the decision for them all and wrapped his arm around your shoulder, securing you tightly to him before walking down the empty streets. Nick and Carley followed silently behind. As you all continued down the street Nick veered off toward a store front, and Dean read his mind instantly, turning you sharply to follow.

“Nick.” Carley said glancing around. “What are you doing? You gotta be careful.” She gripped her injured hand tightly running after Nick faster than Dean could while carrying Y/N.

“I am being careful.” Nick answered gruffly, moving to throw a wrench through the store front window when Carley stopped his movement.

“It’ll make too much noise!” She yell-whispered at him. “Why do you have to be so damn stubborn? He’ll find us.”

“Yeah chances are he will anyways.” Nick answered glancing back at Dean who nodded in agreement.

“At least with this,” Dean gestured toward the crossbow in the window while removing his own gun, “he might not want to find us.” Dean nodded at Nick to continue and he reached back his arm chucking the wrench through the glass, shattering it, both women cringing at the noise. Nick jumped through the open window and gripped the crossbow in his arms tightly, glancing back at us standing in the street behind him.

His eyes went wide as the glass on the door next to him shattered with the echo of a shotgun.

“Run!” Nick yelled grabbing Carley by the arm and rushing into the next building over.

Dean tore around sharply staring down the man with the grimy hat, his eyes trained on the shotgun scope having quickly reloaded the weapon. Dean didn’t think twice before grabbing you roughly and launching both of you through the doors of the movie theater, firing off a few rounds, before another burst of shrapnel shattered the theater doors.

_________________________________

You didn’t have time to think about your head injury as Dean was gripping your wrist tightly tossing you through the doors of the theater. You crawled from your hands and knees, Dean grabbing your waist and pushing you to stand position before you entered the theater from the lobby, having nowhere else to run.

Nick and Carley rushed in ahead of you, jumping as the lights rose up and the movie started playing. The theater was half full of stagnant long-dead humans sitting upright in chairs enjoying What Ever Happened to Baby Jane playing on the screen, the eery title number echoing off of the dust covered walls.

“I’ve written a letter to daddy…” Bette Davis sang, the pleased faces of the frozen audience mocking us.

“Come on.” Dean whispered pulling you down into a seat near the middle of the theater, him rushing further down and crouching into a seat. You didn’t dare move your head but noticed movement out of the corner of your eye, indicating that Carley and Nick did the same. The doors behind you all whispered open, the man from outside stepping in, letting the doors close with a creak.

“I know you’re in here.” He stated, the wax figure attendant with the flashlight uttering a recorded “shushing” noise in response. The man continued down the rows, poking random people with his shotgun, making sure they were wax.

Other random recorded human sounds emerged throughout the theater, a cough in one direction catching the man off guard, and he whipped around pointing his gun wildly, before returning to meander down the aisle. You began to sweat as you could feel him getting closer and closer to where you were attempting to sit as still as possible your head pounding. You saw movement next to you as the man shoved a wax figure that had similar Y/H/C hair as you did, only for the figure to topple over uselessly.

The movie continued a piano melody playing as the man approached the front of the theater where you knew the glow of the movie would give your faces away.

___________________________________

Dean stood crouched down waiting for an open shot of the shadowed figure walking toward him. He raised his gun just as the man spotted Y/N sitting in the middle of the theater. A shot rang out and Y/N ducked at the last second, the shrapnel hitting the figure immediately behind her, shattering the head into a million pieces. Dean pulled the trigger on his gun winging the guy who fell to the floor, quickly reloading the shotgun. Dean threw himself up the aisle grabbing Y/N by the hand, hoping Nick and Carley were following them, when a shot rang out exploding the projector above their heads, which sparked and sputtered out, leaving the movie theater bathed in darkness.

You turned just inside of the lobby and waited for Nick and Carley to exit, before shoving Y/N out the door after them. Dean waited for the man to emerge, slowly creeping toward the theater doors, his hands locked on his gun. He nudged the doors open with his foot and grabbed the flashlight off of the wax figure nearest the door, shining the light in, but saw no sign of the man he’d just shot. He contemplated searching the rest of the building when he heard commotion outside before a slight “Dean” was yelled.

Dean pushed open the doors and exited the theater into the cool night, his breath hitching at the scene before him.

He stopped in his tracks and watched as you clutched your right shoulder with your hand, blood seeping from the open wound. Your face was twisted in agony and Nick had his arm on your non-injured shoulder having just noticed your injury. Dean rushed over, removing his canvas jacket and the flannel he was wearing pressing it roughly into the wound, attempting to stop the bleeding.

“I guess I zigged when I should have zagged.” You muttered more to yourself than anyone, but Dean chuckled lowly, tying the sleeves of the flannel under your armpits and pulling it snug. You winced and looked up at him your eyes guarded and angry. Dean reached down and pulled his jacket back on before heading back down the street toward the dark house on the hill.

“Is there anybody left alive in this town?” Nick asked out loud looking up and down the streets again.

“What about this Vincent guy?” Carley questioned gripping onto Nick’s hand.

“Who knows if there even is a Vincent.” Dean answered lowly, glancing at Y/N who was staring off, lost in thought. “We gotta get out of this place.” He finished.

“What about Wade and our other friends? We can’t just leave them behind.” Carley asked from behind, making Dean stop and turn to look at her. They were getting closer to the house and needed to stop to make a plan before running in halfcocked.

“Alright,” Dean began glancing at Y/N who was gripping her shoulder. He looked around him taking in his surroundings. “This is what we’re gonna do. I’m gonna go up to the house and see if I can get that truck started. Y/N, you take Nick and Carley back to the road and I’ll meet ya’ll there.”

Y/N looked at Dean and her eyes flashed. “No way. No. I’m not leaving you.” Dean turned frustrated and stared into her eyes matching their intensity.

“Why do you have to be so…” He began his temper flaring. Y/N stood up taller meeting his gaze.

“Damn stubborn?” She answered for him, with a raise of her eyebrows. Dean took in a long breath and let out a sigh before answering, knowing he wasn’t going to win this argument.

“Okay. We stick together.”

__________________________________

You and Dean took off one direction toward the truck, watching Carley and Nick as they headed up toward the house, after Dean insisted that they wait there and not go inside. Nick was the only other one with a weapon, which made Dean feel better about leaving the duo alone.

The ancient yellow truck sputtered and coughed when Dean tried to start the engine and his fist slammed down on the steering wheel as he muttered out a quiet “son of a bitch.” He got out of the truck and you both headed up toward the front door to meet up with Carley and Nick who were lost in a whispered conversation.

“Wade went into that house and never came out.” Carley stated, her voice catching at the end.

“Alright,” Dean answered rubbing a hand down his face. “We’ll go in quick. Make a pass.” He stopped and looked hard at Nick. “If we can’t find your friends, we have to get the hell out of here.”

The brother and sister nodded their heads agreeing, and Dean took out his gun, gesturing for you to follow close behind him. The four of them approached the door quietly. Leaning up against the wall was a wooden bat and you gripped it placing it over your good shoulder, feeling more secure with a weapon, even if it was short range. Dean looked back and scoffed at your lightly. You raised your shoulders in a “what?” motion, wincing at the movement. A soft smile played at his lips and turned the knob of the door stepping slowly inside.

The door opened into a dark entryway. There was a phone on the wall that Carley picked up, a busy tone echoing through the handset, and she put it back on the hook uselessly. We ventured in further as the house opened up into a kitchen, living room, and side room with a pool table. You broke off, all four of you stepping into a different room when something white caught your eye.

“Dean.” You said quietly, starring into a glass case that held a small gun, and yours, an identical twin to Dean’s Colt that he bought you for your birthday a few years back. It was something you treasured and you felt guilty not having it in the back of your jeans as usual. You had noticed its absence instantly, but now knew the man had taken it off of you and you felt more violated than ever. Dean came over and reached for the bat in your hand, wrapping a towel around the end and smashing the glass case soundlessly, until it was nothing but iron bars between you and the gun.

“It’s bolted to the wall.” He stated, glancing at the back of the case. “Spread out and let’s look for a key.”

You instantly threw yourself into checking every drawer you could. It was stupid, but you weren’t leaving without that gun. You didn’t find much other than a few news articles about Siamese twins that were separated, a clue to the man and his brother’s identity, the names Bo and Vincent standing out to you. Before you could think too far into it the front door opened with a bang, and the man from before, Bo as you now knew him, stepped in, gripping his arm where Dean shot him. You crouched down under the pool table, glancing around for the others. Dean and Nick had walked up the stairs, but Carley was only a few feet away watching the man closely as he attempted to clean his wounds at the kitchen sink. When his back was turned, she hustled over to you and you put your arm around her protectively as you watched Bo. Seconds later, a truck pulled up and Carley glanced out the window, falling back with a gasp, her hand clutching her mouth wordlessly as tears slipped down her cheeks. You gripped her knee softly, eyes questioning her.

“It’s my other friends. They’re dead.” She whispered, before the door opened again and another man entered, this one wearing a mask giving his face an unnatural tint.

Bo approached the open door and started yelling. “Hey! You don’t ever leave without me. You know better than that. Don’t be so stupid!”

The other man, who you gathered to be Vincent, didn’t answer, merely approaching his brother slowly to help him tend to his wounds. The man waved him off with a harsh, “don’t!” muttering “fuckin’ freak,” below his breath as Vincent lit a candle, using the heat and wax to fix his face where a deep gash was. You were too tuned into the situation before you, you hadn’t noticed Dean motioning to you to head toward the stairs until Carley gripped your hand tightly. You hustled toward the stairs heading up and into a room with a trap door, Nick beckoning you all to follow him down.

“Dean, wait.” You stopped him, gripping his bicep. “My gun…” You muttered trailing off.

“Hey,” he started, putting a finger under your chin to force you to look at him. “It’s not a big deal, okay? We have to get these two out of here.” He look at you intently, his green eyes calming your guilt, before pushing you lightly forward to fall down the trap door, Nick catching you at the waist.

________________________________________________

Dean didn’t hear the conversation from below, but he knew there were now two men downstairs, and Y/N was hurt badly. They needed to get out of this town and quickly. Him and Sam would figure out what to do later, once Y/N and these two kids were safe. He wasn’t sure where the trap door led, but followed behind Nick nonetheless, until it opened up into a workshop of sorts and they took a second to get their bearings.

Carley stopped and gripped her brother’s hand halting him. “I saw Paige and Blake’s bodies.” She glanced back at Dean and Y/N. “They’re dead.”

Nick nodded his head slowly like he already knew. “We have to get out of here.” He pulled her along and I wrapped my arm around Y/N carefully to avoid her shoulder.

As we moved forward we approached a figure that was perched on top of a contraption leaning against the back wall, that looked like it was encased in something that was dripping onto the floor. Nick stopped near the work bench and gripped a red hat in his hands, before approaching the figure.

“Dalton.” He stated. Dean glanced at Y/N as Nick looked into the figure’s eyes. “I’ll get you out of there.” Nick continued his voice cracking as he gripped onto the metal helmet the figure was wearing. Tugging it away, the contraption broke a sickening crunch erupting as the head fell off of the person’s body.

“No!” Carley cried, gripping roughly at her brother’s shirt. He hugged her silently, and Dean gave them a moment, hearing Carley’s pain at losing another friend so horrifically. Dean glanced up into Y/N’s eyes and again saw nothing but anger and fury, knowing it was affecting her to not be able to take these two men out herself.

Suddenly the masked man approached from around the corner, and Dean took his gun and aimed, the shot ringing out.

“That’s Vincent!” Carley screamed, the man taking the bullet to the shoulder, but not stopping, coming toward us full bore. He gripped roughly at the table in his way and shoved it toward Dean, who took it to the gut, his gun falling out of his hands as he fell to the floor. Vincent extracted two long machetes and Nick approached him, raising the crossbow before taking a cut to the arm and falling back. Dean got himself up off the ground, approaching Vincent with fire in his eyes and grabbed the man by the middle careful to avoid the long knife in his hand. Vincent fell to the floor, pushing the lever on a cauldron of wax, igniting a large fire that spilled over into the grates at our feet, trapping Vincent on one side and us all on the other.

“Come on!” Dean yelled grabbing my arm and rushing us toward the exit, emerging into the wax museum. The fires from below began to lick the surface of the wax floor, and we struggled to walk as the wax melted, Nick and Carley finding themselves stuck close to an exit next to a man posed playing the piano. Carley let out a cry, realizing it was her boyfriend Wade, half of his face missing.

“Get out of here!” Dean yelled, pointing them toward the door behind them in the corner. The two glanced at you both before picking up their feet as best they could and trudging toward the door. Dean gripped your arm roughly and pulled you further into the museum looking for another exit. Turning a corner, you came face to face with Vincent’s brother, Bo, and Dean didn’t think twice before running straight at him, knocking him to the floor.

The two scuffled on the floor, both getting in a few punches before Bo extracted a knife and shoved it into Dean’s right thigh. He yelled out in pain, gripping at his leg as the man stepped back up with a smirk. You gripped tightly to the bat in your hands and sucked in a breath before slamming it roughly into the man’s face, knocking him to the floor, where he fell halfway into the wax. You hit him again and again the sound of his bones crunching fueling your anger until his face was unrecognizable. Dean sunk to the floor and you moved toward him, your feet resisting as they slipped in the sludge.

__________________________________________

You took one step forward and Vincent rounded the corner, eyeing you, the dark holes of his mask an unreadable emotion. You panicked and ran up the stairs, Vincent following close, picking up his feet with ease.

“Don’t you hurt her!” Dean yelled from below, as you sprinted up the staircase emerging into a bedroom. Vincent entered slowly, approaching you with his knife drawn and you rounded the corner of the bed facing off with him. He rolled the knife from hand to hand looking for a fight after seeing the condition of his brother. You gripped the bat tightly preparing yourself when Dean burst through the door, shoving Vincent to the wax bed. The two struggled, Vincent attempting to stab his knife into Dean, when you spotted the one protruding from Dean’s leg. Acting fast you ripped it out of his thigh and shoved into the side of Vincent’s neck, effectively killing him, Dean shoving him roughly. When Vincent fell to the side a hole burst through the floor, flames fighting to emerge, and engulfing Vincent and his brother in the heat. Dean grabbed you and hobbled his way back down the stairs away from the flames engulfing the wax museum and leaving it a steaming pile of sludge.

___________________________________________

Dean hobbled out to Carley and Nick who were sitting on the curb staring off in the distance, Nick’s arm draped around Carley’s shoulders. You approached, Dean muttering about both brothers being dead before you began the trek back toward the Impala, Y/N bearing much of Dean’s weight this time. He didn’t unclench his jaw until they made it back to the Impala. Once there, service miraculously returned to their phones and Dean used his fake FBI badge number to call in the fire department and explain away the murders. Carley and Nick leaned against the Charger listening intently, staring at Y/N, but she only shook her head, clearly not wanting to explain or give “the talk,” even if nothing about this hunt was supernatural. You got off the phone, explaining to Carley and Nick that the local cops were on their way to take statements and get them home safely when his phone started to ring.

“Yeah.” He answered, not even looking at the caller ID.

“Dean. Thank God.” Sam huffed out with a sigh. He sounded like he had been holding his breath for days and Dean instantly felt guilty realizing that was probably true when he hadn’t heard from him or Y/N.

“Are you okay? Is Y/N? What is going on?” Sam continued concern lacing his voice. Dean smiled for the first time in 12 hours hearing the familiarity of his brother’s concern.

“Yeah, Sammy.” Dean answered, glancing at Y/N, whose Y/H/C hair was shiny in the early morning sun. “We’re fine. We’re gonna leave here in a bit and catch up with you soon, alright?”

He heard Sam sigh into the phone. “Okay. Catch up soon.” Dean ended the call and walked over to Y/N placing his hand at her lower back and pulling her in, planting a kiss at her temple.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered into her hair, feeling guilty for allowing her to go off on her own. She shook her head slowly, looking up at him with striking Y/E/C eyes.

“Don’t do that.” She replied with a small smile, saying a quick goodbye to Carley and Nick, hugging Carley tight, before planting herself into the front seat of the Impala, planning to make someone else come get her car later.

Dean sighed heavily feeling the weight of the situation hit him all at once. He turned and gave Nick a quick pat on the back, thanking him and Carley and leaving them with his phone number, just in case. He nodded toward them before heading toward the Impala and stepping in hearing the familiar groan of the door.

“Well.” He started putting the key in the ignition, leaning his arm on the back of the bench seat as Y/N scooted over to cuddle against his side. “I’ll say it again…” He leaned over and placed another kiss against her forehead before pulling the car away from the faded ‘Welcome to Ambrose’ sign.

“Demons I get. People…. are crazy.”

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vivxwrites · 5 years

Text

Are You Sick?

*not my gif*

Word Count: 1099

Summary: Natasha is sick and still trying to go to work.

Warnings: Some angst

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

A/N: This was requested by an anon but I sort of veered off from your req, sorry! I hope you still like it anyways and I’m sorry if you don’t. I poured some of my Natasha feels into it so beware! :)

You awoke to the sound of sniffling next to you in bed. You snapped your eyes open and turned towards Natasha. “Nat? Are you crying?”

“Course I’m not crying babe.” Her voice was hoarse and scratchy, way raspier than normal.

“What’s wrong with your voice? Are you sick?”

“No, ‘m not sick, promise.” You gave her an incredulous look and reached out to feel her forehead. She wriggled out of your reach and hid her forehead underneath the blankets.

“Nat let me feel your temperature.” You saw her head shake from side-to-side in her hiding place. You sighed, knowing that Natasha would be too stubborn to admit that she was sick. “Ok, well I’m gonna get up for the day.”

Natasha’s clammy, calloused hands snaked out of the blanket and grabbed your arm, halting you from getting out of bed. “Stay with me (Y/N). Please?”

“Only for a little longer. You gonna go back to sleep?” Nat nodded cutely and you complied with her request. She made a noise of content and wrapped herself around you like an octopus. She tucked her head into the crook of your neck and you felt its burning temperature. Definitely sick. You heard her breathing regulate and you felt her body finally relax, a sure fire sign that Natasha was asleep.

You waited for about ten minutes to make sure that Nat was fully asleep before you delicately peeled her arms and legs off of you. She whined in protest and you shushed her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Shh Nat, I’m gonna make breakfast. Go back to sleep baby.”

She grumbled and pulled your pillow into her arms to wrap herself around. You observed her quietly from the doorway, her nose pressed into your pillow, inhaling your scent, and her vibrant red hair matted to her forehead with sweat, the side effect of the fever that she must have been running. Natasha was the light of your life and you hated seeing her in pain, even if it was just a fever. She didn’t get enough credit for the duties that she performed as the Black Widow so you made sure to treat her like a goddess whenever her schedule allowed for her to relax at home.

You crossed the threshold into the kitchen and began whipping up your famous apple pancakes. After about thirty minutes Natasha shuffled out of the bedroom, swaddled in a fuzzy blanket with her red hair sticking up wildly around her. Deadly assassin my ass. You smiled brightly at her and set a stack of pancakes in front of her, along with the bottle of syrup and a coffee, black of course. You also set a bottle of advil in front of her, to which she quirked a shapely eyebrow at. “Please Natasha. Take some for me.”

She rolled her eyes at your mothering of her but popped two of the pills into her mouth anyway. She chased them down with a swig of her coffee and you winced at simply imagining the bitter taste in your mouth. “Am I expected to eat all of these pancakes?” She shot you a teasing smile and gestured to the towering stack in front of her.

“I may have gone a tad overboard.”

“Just a tad?”

“A tiny bit more than a tad?” Natasha chuckled and reached over to squeeze your hand in gratitude. You could see the obvious exhaustion on her face and you made a mental note to scold Nick Fury in an email.

Natasha went to reply but she was caught off with a loud sneeze, which brought forward a coughing fit and you grimaced at the sound. She may as well have coughed up a lung. “Maybe you should be eating those in bed.”

She finished chewing her pancake and swallowed. “I’m not going back to bed (Y/N), I’ve got stuff to do.”

“Not anymore. You’re sick.”

She sighed heavily and took both of your hands in hers. “I know you love taking care of me but I’ve got things to do. I can’t just take a day off like I work some sort of office job. The world needs me.” She shot one last smile at you and began to walk off in the direction of the bathroom.

“So do I.” You had mumbled it quietly and your arms were circled around your body protectively.

“What?” She stopped in her tracks and turned to face you.

“I know the world needs you Nat but goddamn it, so do I.” Your voice cracked with emotion and you felt tears of frustration prickling at the corner of your eyes. “So do I.”

“(Y/N)” She murmured your name so quietly and if you weren’t silent you wouldn’t have heard her. “I’ve got red in my ledger and I have to get rid of it, I’ve told you about my past babe. Lazing around won’t do anyone any good.”

“Don’t you see Natasha? You cleared your ledger a long long time ago. You do so much for everyone else babe, but never for yourself. You’re sick and you need to rest, so please Nat, please get back into bed and rest.”

She blinked at you, having been stunned into silence. Her face warped with a multitude of emotions.

“Someday the world won’t have you. And god I hate thinking about it but it’s true Natasha, it’s true.” You were sobbing now and she pulled you into her with her strong arms. You looked up at her through your tear riddled vision, “We have what we have when we have it. You know who said that? You did, it was you. And I have you now but someday I won’t. And I know that and I just want to protect you. Keep you safe like you do for me, in my own special way.”

You saw a tear slide down Natasha’s cheek and you reached up to wipe it away. She pulled you into a salty kiss, telling you everything you wanted to hear without words. You both cried into the kiss, a rare mix of emotions for the two of you. She pulled back and cupped your cheeks in both of her hands. She pressed a kiss to your nose before she spoke, “You’re right. I’m sick and one day off won’t hurt anyone.”

You gave her a watery smile and let out a long breath, “Will you go back to bed now?”

“Only if you come with me. I can never sleep well without you.”

“Whatever you need Natasha.” And you meant it.

A/N: You made it! I hope you enjoyed it and if not you have permission to hack into my blog and write the rest of my requests for me. That’s it for today, keep an eye out for Guardian Angel Part III. Thanks, Viv :)

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gyromitra-esculenta · 4 years

Text

Even If the Waters Rise 2/3

Shadowrun inspired Mermay part 2 out of 3 - this thing turned into a monster because this here is like 9k words. Also, contains anime fights, and too competent people. (Honestly, like 95% of teams I ran would fuck up this scenario spectacularly).

Also, warnings for the whole planned thing: blood, gore, and violence; cannibalism (human on metahuman); questionable jokes and questionable totem choices; ambiguous relationships; referenced limb loss/cybernetics/etc; mating cycles.

The whole inside of the sub stinks of the cigar smoke.

The ventilation system manages to get rid of the smoke itself, but the reek remains. Jack would call bullshit on Jesse's insistence it's a vital part of the ritual - the justification itself a steaming load of bullcrap.

Point is, even if he's pretty sure that's the fact, he won't, because he doesn't know enough about the subject to not make a fool out of himself. He finishes fitting the exo jacket and does a cursory check of its mobility and the armor plates layered over it.

The next is the pistol and the rifle, both at full capacity, unlikely he will end up needing another power unit for either of them. The hip pack holds eleven demo charges and the pad, Jack threads the cable with the plug under the armor and leaves it hanging for now.

"Much longer?"

"Nah, about finished," Jesse answers without opening his eyes and takes another deep drag of his cigar. Seeing this, Jack feels almost nauseated in his stead.

The visor clicks neatly into the sockets of the frame, integrated jack connecting immediately. He plugs the pad cable into the remaining port. The tactical overlay reloads, feeding him new data.

"Som, want to ride tonight?"

"No, thanks, I'll go through the tac, I have an idea what we'll find and I'd prefer not being flooded by your sensory output."

"I'm feeling a bit bloodthirsty, anyway."

"Don't you always." Sombra flashes his display in response. In time for Jesse to turn around in the chair as the coyote fades back into existence on the serape.

"And done. We're in the clear from this side. I have the entire array down to a pat."

"No good if anyone with a moderately adequate sense of smell can, and will, smell you downwind." Jack rolls his eyes while putting the face mask on.

"All part of the process."

"Sure. Not dragging your sorry ass back."

"Dude, it's going to be the other way around."

"Even if," Jack grabs the rim of the hatchway and pulls himself up, bracing against the railing and leaning back inside, "it will be your fault alone."

"There's a ladder for a reason, dude, you don't need to show off yet." Jesse hands him the drone he sets off flying right away. The thing veers away and gains the altitude with a subtle whizz of its rotors. Sombra will keep it at a distance until Jesse does his thing.

"See if I pull you up now. Genji?"

"Waiting for the signal." The reply comes on the spot, the voice metallic even through the comms.

Jack jumps off the sub, landing softly on the shore. The wall is at least four meters tall, four and twenty according to the display's measurements. His fingers dig into the concrete as he scales it - feels like nothing - the boots keep his feet anchored to the surface. On the top, he surveys the area. No-one is standing guard, probably too lazy and too comfortable with the alarms set up, the only thing to worry about another gang or triad wanting to move into their turf as unlikely as it would be considering the current power balance. But then, with the worth of one facility and the specialists in the trade involved, probably everyone gets a piece of this pie to not upset the supply chain.

Jack lets down the rope, waiting for Jesse to clip it to his harness before he pulls him up.

"You need some kind of diet."

"You're the only one complaining. There's just a lot of me to go around. Love handles are a thing, you know?" Jesse wheezes, finally joining him on the wall. "Thatta way," he points to the closest building. "Cover me while I negotiate."

"Don't die on the way."

"You're just jealous I got some healthy fat on me."

"The only person insisting it's sexy is your recurring ex, and that's because it gives you higher blood volume."

"Wait, dude, seriously?" Jesse looks up from the spot Jack let him down.

"No idea. I'm making it up as I go."

"Well, shit, you really had me consider dieting for a sec there."

"Should've kept the charade up." Jack lies down on his side at the top of the wall, the rifle held precariously with no additional support. Its matte coating disperses the light. "I have fov. Go."

"You expect me to run?" Jesse snarks holding down his hat - incidentally running - stopping a few steps from the building, more a shed than anything else.

"Kind of." Jack centers the reticle on him, noticing the coyote is gone, again. Which doesn't bode well. "Where's the friend?"

"Working, shush!"

Jesse plops down, cross-legged, the prosthetic hand in his lap, the other holding something close to his chest - probably one of his amulets - and Jack briefly entertains the thought of shooting the stupid hat off his head just to make a point. In truth, keeping half his attention on Jesse allows for a smooth feed of environmental data from the surroundings, and if anything goes wrong, though magic, the spirits usually go down well enough when treated with sufficient amounts of very mundane munitions. His are several grades above that.

"The fuck is it...?"

The spirit forming out of the wall in front of Jesse looks nothing like any other he had ever seen before, standing as tall as a troll, a mass of mangled flesh and fur sloughing off its skeletal frame in gag-inducing half-liquid scraps. The half of whatever is supposed to cover its maw is missing, showing off the strange shape of the skull and the frankly terrifying fangs from between which bubbling drool dangles.

It roars soundlessly and Jesse shudders, breaking the first amulet.

The spirit moves forward, sluggishly, against the invisible force pushing it back. Jack puts his finger on the trigger, wondering if he'll even notice the entire thing going south fast enough. If he doesn't, well, Jesse's in scalding water.

Jesse discards remnants of another focus.

The moment Jack's half a mind to light the ugly motherfucker up, a flash of grayish-brown jumps to the spirit's back. The coyote sinks its teeth into the spirit's nape and closes its jaws, twisting. Jack swears there's some kind of cracking sound that's not a sound at all. The rest of the rotting flesh dissipates and the bones burn before following suit.

"Okay, done," Jesse spits to the side, disgust clear in his tone. "All were bound to this one."

"Jesus. What was that?"

"Bad Ainu spirit, powerful," the answer is surprisingly somber. "Feral."

"Tells me nothing." Jack slips off the wall, the drone navigating overhead filling in the gaps in the tactical overlay with new data, finding and pinpointing heat signatures.

"Corrupted bear spirit, someone brought it inland. Nasty stuff, dude." Jesse pats the coyote. Predictably, it snaps at his hand, and he pulls it back with a quiet curse - staring the coyote down until it turns and walks away, unbothered. "Anyway, the one who set it up is gonna feel it, but the further away they are, finding out what that was will take longer."

"No change of movement patterns so far. Genji, take over 'Love Handles' here," Jack snickers at the indignant look Jesse directs at him. Genji confirms, his marker shifting on the display. "I'm moving along."

He follows by the wall, the sparse lamps providing enough contrast to shadow to have him blend with the surroundings. The complex itself - if it even could be called such - was not built with defensibility in mind, but rather adapted for the utility away from the prying eyes. It had to be a port before, maybe even a regular fishing dock, the layout betrays it with the repurposed boat sheds corroding in the sea air - the wall ending abruptly obviously there to protect from the wind and the waves coming in from the side.

Jack departs the relative safety of the wall towards two vehicles parked sideways in relation to the main building where the heat signatures congregate. One is an armored personnel transport, the escort most probably, the other a massive truck with a refrigerator. He takes two charges out of the hip pack and changes the frequency on both of them. The first one goes under the truck, just behind the join with the cabin, the second under the transport. All while keeping his attention on the lone signature exiting the building.

Jack clips the rifle to his back, focusing on the hostile. A smoke break, judging by the movements. Slowly shifting his weight, Jack moves into the position, tracking the motions of the enemy. The tac display flicks between the straight visual feed and the heat map.

Ten meters, turning away from him.

The smell on the air is stronger this close to the building; the mixture of the toxins in the blood is palatable on his tongue here, kicks off his fight-or-flight instinct and the adrenaline floods his system. And for Jack, it's always fight, never flight. The first limiter is off, an overkill, but he doesn't care.

He springs from behind the transport - jumping as the hostile is turning - left palm grabbing their forehead, right fist coming to stop in their nape with a crunch.

His feet hit the ground in front of them and he shoulders the weight, lowering the soon to be a corpse man down. The dropped cigarette still smokes. With a smile, Jack puts one explosive in front of the wildly moving eyes.

"Damn, that's cold even for you," Sombra whistles.

"I'm in a bit of a mood." Jack pulls the rifle into his hands and puts his back to the wall. "That's Arasaka gear."

"Adding their chatter to the monitored."

The display flickers, overlaying structural scan on the tac. Jack glances at the sky - the drone is nowhere to be seen. As it should be.

Genji and Jesse both catch up, sheltered by the vehicles.

"Genji, upper floor. 'Love Handles', find somewhere else, demos underneath."

"Where?" Jesse's heat signature unmistakably turns around with one arm outstretched.

"Go for the fridge. Two inside." Jack takes a deep breath and turns, walking inside with the rifle braced against his shoulder, trying to not be too quiet about it, as if he's the unlucky guy outside.

Five in the room past the corridor, visibly relaxed - four at the table, one lying down. Three on the level up.

"Genji."

The command is followed by a crash above and a scream. Jack falls into a crouch as soon as he gains the visual on the four hostiles turning to the metal staircase on the other side of the room.

The recoil on each shot is cushioned by the exo jacket. Mostly.

On the tac, the fifth one is scrambling in the corner to get up. One from the upper floor gets halfway down the stairs before Genji is on him, pushing him down to the ground, his katana sliding in easily at an angle between the shoulder blades. Jack rushes inside the room - flipping his own direction with a foot planted in the floor past the doorframe - the butt of the rifle slightly off balance as he fires. This one, he's going to feel in the morning.

The plasma projectile rips the meat off the target's throat.

Genji nods once, rising. He flicks the blood off the blade.

"See if you find any paper trail, I'm going..." There's the unmistakable sound of Jesse's revolver going off in the distance. Jack's not worried, not really, he had seen this thing vaporize someone's midriff once.

He shrugs and throws two charges at the opposite walls of the room, down to six now, and backtracks outside, leaving Genji to go through anything that may be in the open.

"Jesse?"

"One's inside."

"There's no-one inside."

Unless... The cold room. Someone went into the freezer. One big heatsink on the tac. Anyone outside would show.

Jesse is leaning against the corrugated metal, revolver in hand, few paces away from the body lying face-down - unarmored, precise shot to the back that blew out half of the chest on the way out, judging by the spray.

"Follow. Som, can you...?" Before he finishes, the drone does a dive fly-by by the entrance, returning to the sky after.

"Clear. Closed shut."

Jack shoulders the rifle. The smell of blood and meat is stronger here, will be worse inside - something about it always sets him off. The building's layout is as simple as it gets: built around the freezer block with a small makeshift separate space to the side to provide for temporary living arrangements.

"Jesse, check it out." Jack walks to the freezer's door. The lock panel shines with glaring red. He moves aside to let the drone pass - unholsters the pistol as Sombra connects to the door's interface. They open with a quiet hiss, expelling clouds of frigid air.

The smell is horrible, hooks into his brain. The urge to kill something - someone - anything - is unequivocal.

"Clear."

Jack rounds the doorframe, pistol at the ready. Rows of tables, singular iceboxes, all the equipment needed for the processing.

"At least a dozen..." The tails being bled in the beginning stage hang from the ceiling in the back. One sways minisculely. "Fifteen."

With deliberate slowness, Jack makes his way towards it - focused on the back area, cursorily glancing at the compact cooling units - nothing unexpected: hands, organs, two heads probably to be sold as centerpieces, all partially treated already.

"Found you."

A bit of a shoe is poking from behind one table. He smiles. The man flinches with his whole body when he sees him. Any other place, any other situation, Jack would consider him a non-combatant unless otherwise provoked into action. But here, surrounded by all the evidence...

He wants - needs - to kill something.

He barely listens to the jumble of the language he doesn't understand, could ask Sombra for a precise translation, but he doesn't care. She provides some, anyway.

"Says they were forced to."

"He's lying."

"No shit," Sombra chuckles.

For a brief moment, Jack considers his options. In the end, he pulls the trigger. The pistol has a substantially lower yield than the rifle - it still very well could dislocate the joints of someone unaugmented - and a limited use against heavily armored targets. Against anyone unarmored, it kills as well as anything else, leaving behind burnt gore.

The smell of seared meat, keratin, and fat does nothing to hide the odor of the toxins from the remains of dead mermaids.

"We have a transport incoming," Sombra pulls the drone from the freezer. "Nine minutes for a clear exit."

"Jesse, Genji, grab what you have and clear out." Jack listens for the confirmations while deploying the remaining charges inside the cold room. He wants everything in here vaporized, with no exceptions.

"Five minutes."

"I know, Som, you put the clock on the tac."

When outside, Jack breaks into a sprint - there isn't a reason to hurry that much but the exertion helps to work the adrenaline out and push the smell from his lungs. He scales the wall and jumps over it.

"Three minutes," Sombra speaks, the tone making him think she might be working now on her nails - ridiculous, but he can't help a chuckle at the image it provokes.

"I know." Jack pauses on the top of the sub to grab the drone and pass it below before he slides inside into his chair. He puts the rifle braced between his legs and sinks forward, bending his knees. "Floor it, 'Love Handles'."

Jesse does, muttering something along the lines 'I see this is what we're doing now' as Jack digs the pad from the pouch - waits a moment before keying in the frequency. The sub shudders, punched by the crump following the demo charges going off on the surface, and just like this, it's time to crash.

"It all reeks of your shit cigars."

Jack does a double-take, looking above the back of his chair at Genji sprawled over the boxes. Genji, who shouldn't be here with them.

"It's good tobacco and they're expensive!"

"I'm bred and born Yakuza, I know my quality drugs."

"Genji," Jack begins carefully, "You left your ride there?"

"No. I walked."

"You... what?"

"Walked."

It's beyond ridiculous.

"How...?"

"Thirty-two hours, to be exact," Genji interrupts the question Jack's been formulating. "A pleasant hike."

Jack decides he's not going to question it anymore. The only downside is he will have to listen to them bicker about meaningless drivel for hours. The other hindrance being the obvious fact he has to peel the armor and the exo off in the front instead of in the back, behind the seats. He manages.

The third unobvious drawback: with three people more-or-less breathing, the temperature rises to levels comparable with a sauna.

State-of-the-art, his ass.

The riveting bickering Jack can tune out as the combat high fades and his system goes into the post-adrenaline crash, leaving him slightly shaking and nauseous - tired and heavy - drifting in and out of bouts of light sleep. When they finally arrive, both he and Jesse look like boiled rats while Genji is no worse for the wear.

It makes Jack think how much - and if anything - is left of Genji himself, with the work he had done on him easily exceeding whatever Jack had, and Jack himself is teetering on the edge. And if Genji runs off a BTL, it's not his fucking business, so he had never asked, and neither had he asked about why - and how - nothing past the part of his head and the upper chest buried in the metal remains. They aren't both that much different, after all.

But that aside, he has about enough energy left in him to slap McCree's stomach flab - ignoring the smirking 'you're only doing it 'cos you're green with envy' comment as it wobbles - and stumble to the temporary bunk, burying himself under the flimsy covers. If anyone's going to bitch about him not helping with the unloading, they can bitch about it later, preferably tomorrow, and, anyway, he's been the one doing most of the work, so they can suck it.

He wakes up too cold, with the shoulder bruised and giving him hell.

Going by the light, it's late afternoon. His gear is laid out on the tables, as is the carry-on he had left before the departure. Jack considers a swim against Jesse's earlier advice, but a spiny back that flashes him in the distance finally dissuades him from the idea. Pity. Quick shower it is.

The rest of the evening he spends putting away the equipment back in the containers first, later scanning the data for Sombra while eating.

"The security was lazy and too lax, they had to have been operating there long enough to grow complacent."

"I'm not so sure about it. From what I've seen," Sombra murmurs, "they might have bet too much on the magic, it was good."

"According to Jesse." Jack pauses with the fork full of the awful reheated mush when she ‘ohs’ suddenly. "What?"

"I think we've hit the jackpot."

"Elaborate?"

"With a bit of luck and time, with this info, I think I might be able to pinpoint the fleet that has been supplying this plant, among the others. We hadn't found one of those in two years."

"Full-on naval run? Fun."

"Trying to appear disinterested? I know you secretly got a boner."

"You know me so well," Jack laughs. "By the way, where are you now?"

"Frisco. You'd like it here, half the time feels like you're breathing water because of the fog."

"My kind of city."

"The views aren't bad either. Have fun tonight once in your life, okay?"

"Why would I...?"

"Trust me."

Her thoughts fade, leaving him perplexed as to their meaning. At least until Jesse barges in some fifteen minutes later.

"We're going drinking, dude, and I don't take no for an answer."

"No."

"Oh, c'mon, dude, it will do you good."

And, frankly, Jack does not understand how Jesse manages to talk him into it - the word 'chaperone' might have been mentioned in the passing - but after two drinks and an hour or so on the dance floor, he does feel relaxed and wired at the same time as he navigates back to the bar. Genji is still nursing the same scotch, slightly emptier than before. Probably that one glass is enough to keep him buzzed for the duration of the entire night, what with the amount of the actual blood he has in his system. Jesse and Lucio are talking animatedly. Jack takes the free stool and flips through the pages of the price-list built into the bar, stopping on the more interesting cocktails.

"Bloody Mary. The other menu."

The bartender looks at him quizzically.

"You don't look like one to enjoy the more sophisticated drinks."

A rather quirky and unfitting word to describe what is basically a cocktail catering to vampires that are apparently a welcome clientele in the club.

"Hey, dude, JJ, he's a freak," Jesse yells from the side over the music, "but he's our freak, so give him what he wants, would you, dude?"

It turns out to be watered down blood with hardly any trace of alcohol in it and a celery stalk thrown in, served in a wine glass with some damn goofy bats on it. Way to stay inconspicuous - Jack snorts before taking another sip, surprised at how agreeable the concoction is. The flavor spills on his tongue and teases the sense of smell, not quite there yet, has him drink the rest of it in one go as he chases after the climax of the taste, and leaves him waiting on the last drops. Licking his lips with a sigh, Jack places the glass back on the bar counter.

Only now he notices the place next to him has been taken in the meantime.

"The same, again, JJ." The man has a deep voice and an eye-catching cybernetic, high grade. Definitely a designer shell on it built for aesthetic value.

"Change the water for ninety-proof, would you?" Jack nods at the bartender. The alcohol adds a layer to the impression, biting where the taste of blood fades. Jack shifts his attention back to the man, and the suits lounging nearby. They fit in the awkward way any corpo rat in a place like this would, if not for their attentiveness. "Counting on something, rich boy?"

Metal fingers grip his jaw, turning his head to the side, put the pressure in, the grab far too familiar in how it applies the force to the bone.

"Those are some fine cock-sucking lips, pity for them to go to waste."

As his eyes drift lower and stop at the rich boy's crotch, Jack catches himself on the fact he's considering it. But the thing is, nobody touches him like they own him, except for Gabriel - because Gabriel does own him. There's something vicious and cruel winding up in him.

"Say what, rich boy, you beat me," Jack flicks his eyes visibly towards the stage, "you get them."

"Even better without the teeth," the rich boy laughs, nodding to the bartender, and the hand is off. Oh, it's a risk Jack's willing to take because there's a point to be made.

"Put it on the ice." He gestures to the drink and hops off the stool, moving towards the stage without looking back, knowing he's being followed. The lights and the music change, people knowing the club's gimmick move back from the marked spot and pull the stragglers with them.

Jack jumps over the rising waist-high barrier and stops slightly off the middle of the ring. He turns around and rolls his shoulders, the right still sore and hurting. Somehow, Lucio is already on the stage chatting up the DJ. The rich boy gets right in his face. Smirking.

"Your bitch ass is mine."

"Sure."

All the lights not focused on the ring and the stage go out.

Jack dives under the first swing. The second one he sidesteps, it's his turn to smirk as he judges the technique and the speed, the coiled spring in him ready to snap. There’s momentum behind the punches, but the speed and the precision are lacking. The footwork is not especially good, either, but the rich boy might feel cocksure because the pure mass and strength probably won him some scuffles, not to mention the monkeys at his heel. To pass the real judgment, though, he does have to get hit.

Jack fumbles partially the next dodge, the fist connecting with his face carries a surprising amount of force behind it even as he's moving away from it - the hand is not only for show, it seems - the second jab comes abruptly. As he hits the floor, the thought he's not the only one to con this fight is unexpectedly exhilarating.

Goddamn fucking McCree screams 'five hundred on the blondie' from the side.

Jack rolls away from the punch that leaves a dent in the spot he had occupied a moment earlier. He pivots on the ball of his hand evading the following hit and jumps to his feet. This would do some serious damage. The stakes just got higher.

Jack licks the blood off his lips, the taste now undiluted, coppery, wipes the rest of it with the back of his hand, smearing it and smiling widely.

"That one's a freebie, enjoy it while it lasts."

The punches come reliably in pairs, the cybernetic hand is favored over anything else, probably at the cost of other techniques.

The coiled spring snaps, and Jack goes into the offensive, dancing out of the way and turning. The first punch misses him completely, the second one catches the sleeve of his jacket as he puts his elbow with the added momentum of the movement below the joint - skirting under the other hand immediately to find himself at the rich boy's back. He plants a foot on his ass and pushes, sending him tumbling to the ground. The surprised look of someone who just realized they bit off more than they can handle is a cherry on the top of the fucking cake.

Jack, swaying to the rhythm of the music, waits for him to get up. The flash of anger - closer to rage - at the obvious disrespect fuels his interest in the fight. He baits the guy two or three times - gets away in the last moment driving home the point he's untouchable until he allows it - watching the rich boy’s coordination and control go to shit.

It's a dangerous kind of game, pushing the opponent until they feel cornered and lash out, but the rush makes up for it.

Jack meets the rich boy in the middle as he changes his approach from evasion to the offense; goes for a quick jab below the ribs followed by a hit below the jaw. He deflects the grab aimed at his head - the fingers close around his forearm - he drags the hand holding him in front of the rich boy's chest while turning on his left foot and throws his other leg up in with a half-turn - hooking the ankle behind the man's neck.

Then, he brings his leg down with force, noting, again, the sheer surprise on that face - the grip on his arm seizing and taking with it the sleeve of his jacket and leaving the synthskin under it scraped by the fabric.

Jack puts the knee in the rich boy's nape as he lies. With the cybernetic trapped under him and his left arm twisted, he is in no position to try anything, especially when Jack adds more pressure to the wrist. He leans down, chuckling, bringing his lips closer to the man's ear.

"Who's the bitch now?"

He gives the arm another cautionary shake before he jumps off the rich boy's back and leaves the ring. At least, compliments due where they are, he knows when he's beaten and doesn't follow to make a scene.

Back at the bar, with Lucio fretting over his face, Jack finishes his drink. Genji is already gone, and Jesse’s nowhere to be seen - until Jack catches the sight of him leaving the club with a bob of white hair on his shoulder. Fucking moron. If Jesse turns up later as a vampire or a desiccated corpse lying in some ditch, it's not Jack's problem anymore.

He hisses briefly as Lucio sets his nose proper and dabs it one last time with a tissue for good measure before making his way back to the stage. Time to get going, he can feel the interest of the spectators in him growing. Jack waves the bracelet at the reader. It blinks red. His tab is paid.

Maybe Jesse, with the money he made off him.

Outside the club, Jack briefly considers catching a cab before his eyes land on the luxury car one of the suits from before is leaning against.

Fuck it.

It's the night of poor decisions all around, Jack thinks as he strides towards it.

"Move," he barks at the monkey, not waiting for the tensing man to comply before he opens the side door looking inside. The rich boy puts away his phone and the other suit aims at Jack's head with the handgun. "Send the monkeys away, or have them sit in the front."

Their displeasure is visible and only serves to heighten Jack's amusement, more so when the rich boy nods. He gets in, gives the approximate address of the dock, and the car starts rolling down the street to join in with the traffic.

"One rule. You touch me only when I tell you to."

He makes quick work of rich boy's pants and grips the already half-hard length in his hand - looking up with a clear warning on his face before he goes down on him, feeling the cock properly fill out and become rigid between his lips. Makes sure his teeth scrape against the skin. He pulls away when the hips under his palm start to jerk with the motions and swats with a warning growl at the hand reaching to hold him in place.

Still kneeling on the floor, Jack strips out of both the jacket and the shirt underneath in one go, throws them to the side. Unbuckling his belt, Jack moves to the opposite seats, braces against the back, and looks over his shoulder.

"Need a special invitation?"

The inside of the car is too small for anything like this - for both of them - Jack delights in how it puts the rich boy in an awkward position. A moment later, he has his face pushed into leather and a hand fumbles with his pants. He hisses first at the burn, the cramping pain deep inside rips an aborted whine out of him - cold metal planted between his shoulder blades keeps him down, not that he minds.

Jack’s fingers rip up the upholstery.

Greedy and selfish, it's what the rich boy is, as is Gabriel himself, but how the same quality differs so intricately between the two of them is something illuminating in its simplicity.

The rich boy takes and tries to assert his dominance when he has none, whereas Gabriel knows Jack belongs to him and Jack knows back he himself is, in a way, his prized property to be taken care of - the bullet to be fired at whatever Gabriel wishes him to destroy.

The sex is barely satisfying and ends too soon with the rich boy falling against his back - Jack shoves him off unceremoniously and tucks himself back into the pants - but it manages to scratch the itch he didn't even know simmered under his skin for the whole evening.

"Save it," Jack nips in the bud whatever the rich boy wants to say as he gathers his clothes from the floor. "No matter what mommy and daddy let you play with, you can't afford me."

He puts the period on it with a slam of the door behind himself.

The lone security guard at the gate with maybe a tad too secretly amused expression on her face buzzes him in. Jack doesn't worry about giving out the location, no-one with any sense tries to get too deep into the seaside properties, and tomorrow he's gone from here, anyway.

In the morning, flowers wait for him at the gatehouse: a basket overflowing with white, gold, yellow, and blue. The card attached holds an unsigned phone number. He pockets it.

"Keep the flowers."

"What am I supposed to do with them?" The guard sounds offended, her face scrunched in something between offended and bewildered.

"Eat them?"

"You don't eat flowers."

"Artichokes?"

"That's one flower, and it's green."

"Fair. Leave them, throw them out, I don't care."

"The basket's nice, don't want it?" The guard leans on her elbows, thinking. Jack lifts his carry-on up for her to see.

"That's all I travel with."

He leaves her still pondering the flowers to catch his train moving inland - a first-class ticket and the whole compartment to himself, all booked by Sombra. Sometimes Jack wonders if she ever sleeps.

The itch is back with a vengeance, and he taps an anxious rhythm into his knee. An hour before his stop he realizes it's another episode coming, the prickling shifting deep into the bones, yet on the verge of becoming an outright ache above the everyday static of pain he can keep under the edge of his awareness. Just his fucking luck.

Until now, it's been possible to navigate around the days he got reduced to jittery nauseated mess hardly capable of logical thought and any movement besides dragging himself to the bathroom, maybe back if he didn't collapse on the way.

Keeping from lashing out is taxing.

It disconcerts Jack more Gabriel will witness him in this sorry state than Gabriel seeing the bruises and other marks left by someone else on his body - at least on parts that were still his body and not artificial filling for what he had lost. The need to back out of the earlier-than-usual meetup and the sudden surreal hope that maybe Gabriel will fuck him through it contradict - he doesn't even know if either is a viable option, each for a set of different reasons.

He's paler than normal when he steps off the train.

By the time he reaches the hotel he's sweating and breathing shallow, the pain in the imaginary joints rising well above the threshold and crashing in waves rolling over to his chest and stomach. His fingers swipe over the keyboard, too uncoordinated - sending the customary text. Getting the reply only acts to exacerbate his anxiety and question the reason to arrive. The hesitation proves to have substance when he notices two suits standing guard in front of the door, an ork and a bluish-skinned elf.

"She's waiting for you," the elf addresses him.

Against his better judgment, Jack enters the suite, ready for... For what, he has no idea, just hopes his clenched jaw radiates apprehension rather than anything else - a tall order, he knows.

'She' gets off the sofa with a strange flowing quality, at least Jack suspects so. The wide-brimmed hat decorated with dark fabric shaped into flowers hides her frame behind a veritable veil of darkness from behind which only two glowing mismatched eyes are visible.

"Gabriel can't make it." The voice is without a doubt feminine. She circles him once, observing him like some exhibit on a display. Jack feels anger floating to the surface at the unwelcome scrutiny he's subjected to. "Fascinating," is the ending conclusion. The gloved hand emerges from the curtain of darkness holding a familiar object.

A pillbox.

"This is a new formula that should be more effective in treating your unique condition, you should start administering it immediately." Her tone is flippant and uncaring. "I am told you are careless with taking the medication as recommended."

Jack grabs the box from her hand; the gloved finger his hand brushed against is either ended in an elaborate manicure, or tipped with a claw.

"I don't see how's that any of your business."

"I am, after all, the one manufacturing it. I would hate to see my work go to waste."

Without another word, covered by her own bubble of darkness, she glides to the door, leaving Jack alone and glaring at the pills.

The temptation is there, enticing and futile. He made the mistake once, he's not going to repeat it.

The first time, popping the pills one after another for a brief relief from the hurt: the few seconds of bliss when nothing ached forgotten immediately after when the pain slammed back into him without warning - screaming in frustration when there were no more left to take. The first time was the worst, the rest he just suffered through.

His fingers shake when he sets the pillbox down on the table - the dancing twitches playing off the connected nerves sending out random signals in confusion.

Jack stumbles to the bathroom and sinks to his knees. Forehead resting on the cool raised edge of the tub - terrifyingly conscious of every single inhale and exhale - skin clammy and cold and hot. Slowly, he sets the parameters, stopping each time he has to swallow the tasteless saliva gathering in his mouth.

He almost gives up twice: once before finishing the setup, the second time as he's trying to undress himself - the drive to just curl up on the floor barely losing to the prospect of some relief.

Sitting on the rim with his feet submerged in the water, Jack plugs into the pad.

"Som?" He reaches out after wrestling his thoughts under some semblance of control. When she nods back, he concentrates on the memory. "I want to show you something."

She pulls it up and watches while Jack smiles, feeling the wave of emotions and sensations wash over him. The dragon glides in the water again.

"Wow. That's why you purged the drives?"

For a moment, he loses track of his thoughts.

"Yeah."

"You sound strange, I know Gabe couldn't..." There's a shift in her voice and her distress banishes the rest of Jack's control sending it spiraling as he clenches his jaw. "Your cortisol levels are off the charts, as well as... Why didn't you tell me you're in so much pain, I'm sending something right..."

"No!" Jack interrupts her, too sharp and sudden. "No," he repeats after a deep breath. "It's normal. I just have to... It won't help."

"Jack."

"It happens. Flare-up. It will pass. Just... could you loop it for me? The dragon?"

Sombra stays silent for seconds ticking away before the scene plays out again in his mind.

"It will stop when you unjack."

"Thanks, Som. I mean it."

"I know. Fuck. This isn't right. I'll work on it."

"It's okay," Jack slips into the water, the momentary temperature shock providing a short respite before the nerve endings become accustomed. "You did what you could."

"Hang in there."

"Thanks."

He sinks to the bottom.

Arms wrapped around knees, Jack lets his mind flow with the memory. Under the surface, shortness of his breath makes no difference and the saltiness of the water flushes away the horrid taste in his mouth. Almost enough to keep thoughts from forming- coast over the waves of pain. Between this, and the moments he relives, time becomes meaningless, counted only by the steady movement of his chest.

The sensation that shouldn't be there sends him spiraling into confusion and panic - a brush against his back becoming a grab - breaking the layer - drowning.

While trying to fight off whatever - whoever - it is, and coughing out the water, his hand catches on the cable and rips the plug out. Only when something puts pressure on the bone below the hinges of his jaw, Jack realizes he's lying down and grabs at the arm holding him.

"Stop struggling."

The voice and the command register slowly, and when they do, he lets his palms fall away from Gabriel's hand. His head is turned to the side and the vertigo of the renewed connection provokes another wave of nausea Jack protests with a whine.

"How many times?"

He has to hear it twice with the fingers digging into the vulnerable points of the bone emphasizing the words for the question to parse.

"Eight... ten?" Jack licks his suddenly dry lips, tracking with his eyes the syringe Gabriel holds with his other hand. "..'s not going to help."

He had not needed to talk during any of the previous episodes and he winces hearing his own slurred words, more than he does at the prick of the needle and the numbing cold propelled by blood crawling from the injection site in his neck. The freezing pain is almost the polar opposite of the sensations thus far - he panics, again, trying to fight off the unmoving hand until the ice sinks its teeth deep into the marrow and shoots through his brain as he jolts on the bed with a scream before he blacks out.

When Jack comes to, the light is too bright, the contrasts too strong, and it floods his vision even through the clenched shut eyelids. He's hot, far too hot, the back of his head is damp - warm hair sticking to his neck, slicked to his forehead and temples with sweat. What is worse, whatever he's lying on - and under - is coarse and abrasive, even the minimal friction caused by his chest rising and falling with each breath is nigh unbearable.

Moving his arms proves to be an exercise in futility with how sluggish and weak they feel. Through the cotton fog swirling in his mind Jack wonders about the malfunction - how much the limbs are fucked if they refuse to cooperate with the nerves, the intent itself should be enough to prompt the action - or is it him who's fucked with the neural pathways misfiring.

He manages to kick the sheet down, it's enough to get it past the hips. The synthskin's not reacting to whatever's going on – otherwise, he'd go crazy from this. The cool touch on his stomach makes Jack jump in place and groan as the surprise forces his eyes open.

Unsticking the tongue from the roof of his mouth requires some work.

"Why are you here?" Is what Jack intends to say. What makes it out instead is garbled and croaking.

"You were experiencing a toxic hormone buildup," Gabriel replies like that's the answer to his question.

"...what was?"

"Artificial hormones to counteract, and stabilizers."

"Huh?" It's even harder to focus with the fingers gliding in slow circles over his skin - soothing - almost enough to forget the discomfort. "Would pass, normal."

There's no response, of course. Jack licks his lips. The points where Gabriel put the pressure when he held him down still hurt. Funny how he can recall only one other time something like this has happened.

He had his arm blown off and caught several slugs with his side. It had been his own fault, probably, and Gabriel had a discernible aura of anger and irritation to him when reaching for the hand and lifting the shirt to check on the stitched injuries. And being manhandled like this didn't sit well with Jack, yet. Ended with him pressed against the wall, Gabriel's hand on his throat - fingers digging into the bone and his knees going weak - and mind-blowing sex. The first fuck of his new life, and no questions asked.

"We could talk?" Jack suggests, finally able to see in the dimming light. "Don't think... I'll remember it, anyway," he adds when it obviously falls on deaf ears, but Gabriel's always like this, this being this, no explanations, no nothing. It bothers him now, surprisingly, between feeling like a wet cloth, the fuzz, and Gabriel's aloofness.

Eerily, brings up the same mean streak as before.

"Did you... you and him, did you fuck?"

The thing about Gabriel is, he never lies. Just doesn't answer if it's inconvenient. The palm lying flat on his stomach, now motionless, gives merit to the question one way or the other.

"We had... a relationship, of sorts."

But Jack gets his answer and it fucking hurts to hear Gabriel say it. Must be the hormones. The curiosity, too, because for years he had managed to not give a fuck about it all until now.

"What was he like?"

The chuckle has him turning his head to confirm its actuality - the plug catches on the cloth - he's still jacked in. The cool air on his wet hair sends shivers down his spine as Gabriel puts away a book, a paper one, to help him move to rest on his side.

With the bent arm trapped underneath, it's almost bearable. The pillow remains damp and warm.

"Impudent and fearless, the two definite qualities of his."

"Got it. Stupid and bitchy." The irony of basically badmouthing himself does not escape Jack. "Sounds like someone I know."

"Does it, now?"

"He's dead," Jack blurts out, the words following thoughts without a moment's hesitation, tumbling out one after another with no consideration. "I'm the one in here. If he comes back, it's not going to be him."

Gabriel tips his chin up with his thumb.

"Impudent and fearless, and so very clever, too clever for his own good. At least, with you, I can hold a conversation."

It's Jack's turn to chuckle.

"You could. If you ever talked to me. You're only talking to me because I won't remember it, remember? That's what you think."

"Probably."

"That's. Fucking. Cruel."

"Or maybe because you are asking now."

"I don't ask because you never tell me shit." Jack's sure his weepy frustration - and the emotions all over the place - can be easily read in his voice. "Who was he to you, anyway?"

He's steeling for the punch when Gabriel appears to be mulling the question over in his mind, his thumb tracing Jack's lower lip.

"Someone special." It hurts. He should fucking stop doing it to himself. "And, so are you. Both alike, yet unique in ways you could never comprehend."

"Maybe I could. But you won't tell me."

"No." The finger leaves his lips and travels down along his throat, past the dip between the collarbones.

"See. Herein," Jack laughs at the word, giving in to the fog, lightheaded as if drunk, "lies the problem. You never tell me shit."

"It is for your own good."

"Bullshit. You don't want to deal with the fallout, do you?" The last part barely makes it out of his mouth before Jack flinches at the touch with a high-pitched inhale cutting off anything else he wants to say. Fuck. That's one way to end the conversation. He's really fucked up if he didn't notice he's fucking hard since some point in time - and Gabriel is taking his sweet time too, teasing with his hand - it's not enough, and Jack reaches out to pull him closer barely registering his limbs finally cooperate with him. "Fuck. Don't... please."

He's choking up on words. Gabriel shifts to lean over him, continuing the deliberate motions with no intention of letting him finish, and his desperation is growing, punctuated by small sounds of distress slipping out as Jack digs his fingers into his back. The sensation of being filled arches his spine - it doesn't feel right - not wrong - just not right - but he clings to it with a needy whine and jerking hips - trying to pull the body above him closer, giving up any kind of control in lieu of chasing the denied pleasure.

The first rolling wave has him biting on the fingers between his teeth - toe-curling as it spills down the phantom nerves and runs back - still not enough, and he pleads with the whole of himself for release only to be rebuked with Gabriel's voice in his ear leading him through it. Again and again - until he's a crying mess gasping for breath and begging for Gabriel's mercy - and when it is granted, he's unprepared: coming with a soundless scream caught in his throat and his back taunt like whipcord before sinking under the surface into the depths.

Pliant, shaky, and raw, is how Jack feels waking up tangled in sheets; still too warm but not burning hot anymore, sticky with old perspiration and damp with fresh sweat. Alarmingly... lucid. The light speaks of early morning, or that peculiar breaking moment of the evening. Either way, it no longer pains his eyes.

The itch in his bones lingers, but gone is the urgency - and the memory of yesterday redefines his concept of mind-blowing.

Parched, Jack sits up looking around - feels his heart fall before he spies Gabriel sitting on the covered balcony, working, as usual, judging by the screens surrounding him, but Jack will count his blessings because Gabriel wasn't even supposed to be here according to that woman that has his skin crawling even now when he thinks about her.

He slips out of the bed, standing on wobbly legs.

The sheet feels too coarse around his waist and he discards it, walking the rest of the way naked. The artificial breeze feels wonderful on his skin. Jack halts in front of Gabriel - trying to grasp the vague recollection of... actually having a conversation with him.

"We talked," he blurts out at the questioning gaze of black and red eyes, surprised. "Yesterday."

"Yes." Gabriel holds out his hand in an invitation to him.

"What did we talk about? Was it important?" He waits for a rebuttal and laughs when Gabriel remains silent, puts his palm in Gabriel's waiting hand, and lets himself be pulled to sit on his lap, conscious in an instant of the fact he's ruining one of those ridiculously expensive suits just by touching it. "It was important. But you won’t tell me what it was, will you?"

"No."

There's a glass pressed to his lips and Jack eagerly drinks the water in big thirsty gulps, some of it dripping down his chin; he stops Gabriel from taking it away before he finishes all of it, and then just leans against him with his cheek cradled to his neck. He winces at fleeting nausea when Gabriel plugs his jack in, but, even so, the mood settles soon into comfortable silence - and he had learned to treasure those rare quiet moments with Gabriel. There's just something bothering him, more humorous than anything else.

"You know," Jack finally gives voice to it, "I'm willing to bet my meager possessions you actually knocked me out with an orgasm."

"You would lose them in the wager."

"Oh. Fuck. I was being only half-serious."

"You should be 'half-serious' about your health."

Straight to what Gabriel considers being the issue.

"It has always passed before, so that's..."

"Then you would notice those 'episodes' of yours are regular and take place approximately every five months."

Jack winces at the unusually irate note in Gabriel's voice.

"They do?"

He feels that sigh with his entire body.

"At the moment, the foremost concern is finding an adequate formula to mitigate the unaccounted symptoms. You will sign in with Sombra every day so she can gather current metrics."

"If it happens in five..."

"I accept no objections.”

Jack turns his head so he can look over the screens in the air - most of them blurred with personal encryption, and probably nothing he would even understand - but he notices one static picture with live readable feed and his stomach plummets for a second.

The perfect explanation for Gabriel's general disposition.

The rich boy.

And Jack has to breach the subject, somehow. Because Gabriel won't. He shifts and points to the holoscreen in question.

"Are you... Are you angry about it?"

"I am irritated by your negligence."

"And this?"

"It is of no consequence. It's understandable," Gabriel continues without missing a beat, "that you would find other sexual partners."

The dismissal should put him at ease, not threaten him with the inexplicable urge to cry.

"Tell me I'm not allowed to."

"Would that change anything?"

"If you tell me I'm not allowed to," Jack pushes his face into the crook of Gabriel's neck in some form of trying to hide away from the tumultuous swirl of emotions it brings up, "then I won't. Please, tell me I'm not allowed to."

Fucking pathetic for a grown man, to fight against tears and fail, but it's what happens when Gabriel remains silent on the subject, and Jack tangles his fingers in black fabric, the stifled sobs raising in force. Fucking pathetic, losing it over a thing he always knew. And fuck hormones for making him feel shit - now he would take the pain over this complete mess. And fuck Sombra for telling Gabriel on him.

And, honestly, fuck himself for harboring some kind of misguided hope against any logical rationale, Jack notes with the angry spite. Angry is often better, but now, it's not helping at all. It only makes matters worse.

Slowly, he drifts off into a fitful sleep, waking only when carried: by his own hand slipping loose off his lap. Gabriel lowers him into the water, the temperature slightly higher than his usual.

"There are other matters I have to attend to." The words are accompanied by the palm lingering on his cheek and the thumb tracing the arch of the bone before Gabriel moves away. Jack waits for the sound of the doors closing behind him. He's just tired as he sinks below the surface.

What the fuck is even his life?

#sometimes I write #r76 #reaper76 #jackande #mermay #doom76

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rigelmejo · 4 years

Text

i have been trying, since like may, to make monthly study plans and then i just

wildly veer off the study plan each time.

in an effort to like make myself at least somewhat progress, i’ve got lists where i’m keeping track of chapters read/time spent etc X, so that even if i work on the wrong goals for the month, i can tell if im working on ‘certain’ goals at least?

anyway its interesting to me to see like, exactly what type of activities i Was in the mood for each month versus what i Thought I’d be in the mood for.

like july i planned to learn 1000 new hanzi, and instead i just. i read. it was a Good activity, but not at all on my list of things to do. i like read an hour a day, i did like 45 chapters+ of stuff.

then august i planned to read, and instead i did a ton of listening and tone pair practice. clearly all i could focus on was listening. all i did was listen to audio lessons and audio books. i could not focus on anything else.

september i planned to do some listening-reading combination. instead i WROTE which was not studying at all, it was a personal project. but i did write like 170k words in a month which is shocking to me and i doubt i could ever replicate it. it was an anomaly i’m super grateful for ;-;

so i was like ok october i will focus on listening-reading? and instead, again, my brain was like “NO we are in WRITING or EDITING mode” and all i’ve been able to do is edit and write small things, and read a tiny bit of manhua because its drains me mentally a bit less.

so for november... i had a plan all set... i was going to try listening-reading more consistently, and study tone pairs and hanzi 15 minutes a day each. so like total time commitment of like 1 hr a day probably. nothing too hard.

i am already predicting I'm gonna veer wildly off that plan. as of yesterday i tried to listen-read, and it worked perfect! i did 8 chapters in like a couple hours! I was having fun! but in the process... i got my mind back into feeling ‘comfortable’ just reading chinese chapters, rather than feeling drained... (when i listen-read, i do the following: read in chinese, then read in chinese with the audio playing and follow along, then read in english with the chinese audio and try to match up any words/phrases i can’t recognize when listening alone). So like... step 1 was getting easier and easier, and by the end of it i didn’t want to listen to the audio or look at the translation. i just wanted to keep reading the story...

so i predict what is ACTUALLY going to happen is im going to go on a reading binge. just reading through stuff. and if i’m lucky, i’ll get a few side hours in of listening, or hanzi study, or tones. but mostly i’ll probably just read novels... even though that’s not what i had Planned...

So much for that perfectly made November Study Plan... it may well become my December one...

---

On a related note of “progress,” i have noticed some improvements in my listening comprehension this past month. I am getting good at recognizing nearly all words i can ‘read’ in listening form (at least as isolated words). and for a lot of phrases i can read, im getting better at hearing them easily without thinking (like ‘beautiful woman/what do you want/really is weird/im a good person/thats a wicked person/you want a little/not comfortable/im leaving/take care/here!/help me out/right now/get lost/okay/put his hand in pocket/waved a hand/raised her head/lowered their head/kneeled/my dad still isn’t dead/sex appeal/before them). I’m still struggling a lot, but I am getting better at picking up phrases - and individual words i’ve read before.

So I think all the listening I did passively this past october has helped. I will continue to go through the Spoonfed Chinese Audio (I’m on file 14 out of 39). I also have been: doing a tiny bit of Listening-Reading Method (which may have helped), and doing a bit of listening to audio that is chinese then the english (dmbj mtlnovel - having my phone read the chinese RAW then english on the page, as i walk). I’m not sure what’s helping most, and if I need to focus to get the benefit. But i do think something I did has helped me make some improvement.

In August-September when reading, I also read with a dictionary, then re-read by listening to audio and following along. That activity also may have helped.

its now taking me less mental strain to listen to audio.

#progress #october progress #rant

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violetsmoak · 5 years

Text

Philtatos [2/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20101543/chapters/47630773

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: During a patrol where Red Hood and Red Robin cross paths, Jason is infected with the blood of the Eros, the ancient God of Love, who informs them that they must track down his missing bow and arrows, or Jason will go slowly mad with an obsessive desire--for Tim. Though overwhelmed by the sudden attention being paid to him, Tim sets to work trying to solve the case, before Jason succumbs to madness. In the meantime, Jason discovers that there's more than godlike powers at work here, as well as a legacy that reaches back through the sands of time.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Beta Reader: None at the moment.

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #gods in disguise

First Chapter

_______________________________________________________________

Predictably, Jason is the first to respond to that.

“Bullshit.”

Tim sighs and rolls his eyes because he’s sure the reaction is more Jason being oppositional than actual doubt. They’re staring at a guy that until a few minutes ago had giant black wings sprouting from his shoulders, who’s been collecting suggestive art and carving a swath of hedonism across the city. They’ve dealt with stranger things and less plausible explanations.

“God of Love?” he inquires. “You mean, like Cupid?”

“Gaia, I hate that name. Stupid little Valentine’s Day mascot. I blame the Romans. The Hellenistic was great, except for that.” He waves a dismissive hand. “I mostly go by Steve these days. Cuts down on the explanation time.”

Which just…what?

“Steve, the God of Love,” Jason deadpans. “Because that doesn’t sound like a cringy mascot at all…”

“Why are you in Gotham?” Tim asks, more direct this time.

“And what the hell are you dosing people with that they’re all down to fuck without remembering it? I don’t know how it works wherever you came from, but here that’s assault.”

“I’ve never assaulted anyone!” Eros protests, all wounded integrity. “If anything, I’ve been the one people keep jumping ever since my bow and arrows got stolen.”

“Your bow and arrows? That’s seriously the defense you’re going with?”

“How does one steal from a god?”

“You wait until he’s stoned out of his mind in an Amsterdam coffee shop and knock him out,” Eros grouses. “It’s either brilliance or suicidal madness. I’ll decide which one after I track down the bastard that did it and give them a reminder that I’m Ares’ son as much as Aphrodite’s.”

“Right,” Tim says, raising an eyebrow. “On that note, if you’ve got all these divine connections, why don’t you just get new weapons made?”

“If it were that simple you think I’d have dragged myself to this armpit of the universe? The bow and arrows act as a constant diviner for my abilities. It focusses them or controls them if you will. Otherwise, my powers veer wildly out of control.”

“What powers?” Jason snorts. “If you had anything beyond your feathers, you wouldn’t have been so useless with those mob assholes and made us do all the heavy lifting.”

Eros’ eyes turn hard and his lips pull into a cold smile. He reaches for Jason’s face and wriggles his fingers threateningly. “Would you care to find out?”

Not wanting to give Jason a time to respond by breaking the digits in his face, Tim places himself in front of him.

“Both of you, knock it off—”

His move manages to divert the Olympian from losing fingers, but it also puts him straight in his path. Impossibly soft finger pads graze his jaw, and it is as if a current of electricity has been passed through his spine.

Tim seizes up, his brain going cloudy and his stomach suddenly hot and trembling. Sight and sound vanish or rather sharpen to a single point, the figure in front of him, and a visceral want edges out every other thought and impulse.

He is dimly aware of moving, of being rivetted at the individual motions that bring him into Eros’ personal space, and which have him fixing his upon the other man’s shoulders. Then he’s dragging him forward and crushing their mouths together.

The taste and smell of pomegranate and ozone overwhelm him, and he doesn’t wait for reciprocation before he’s shoving his tongue into the Olympian’s mouth, harshly trying to chase the unique flavor. All other intent vanishes in the single-minded pursuit of that goal, and he wonders if it’s not just his mouth that tastes like this, if the rest of him—

“What the fuck?!” Hands grab him roughly and he’s being jerked backward, stumbling into an unyielding armored chest. “What the hell did you do to him?”

Tim whines at the loss. “No—I need— he—”

Words aren’t really a workable thing right now, not in the face of the fact the world suddenly seems colder.

There’s a clicking sound, and then Tim’s world tilts as if he just stood up too fast. When his wits return, he realizes that Jason is holding him up with one arm, practically lining them up from ankle to armpit. His other hand is elevated, semi-automatic pointed at Eros’ forehead, glaring him down as if daring him to get closer.

The Olympian raises in slow surrender.

“Just making a point,” he tells them with a butter-wouldn’t-melt expression that could do Dick proud. His voice sounds like it’s coming from underwater.

“Try it again. See how it works out without a head.”

Every passing second brings reality back into sharp relief, and with it a mounting sense of dread.

“I…please tell me I didn’t just do that,” Tim says, mortified and still punch drunk. He was never even that forward with Steph.

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices a flash of irritation flicker across Jason’s face, and then the older vigilante fixes Eros with a look of utter loathing that Tim’s only ever seen when he goes up against one of the crazier rogues. Black Mask or Scarecrow, maybe. That usually precedes extreme violence, which they don’t need right now. They need detachment, to look at this clinically.

(And he needs to focus on something else to erase the fact he just tongue-kissed the God of Love in front of his childhood crush.)

“What was that?”

“I project a field across the surface of my skin that causes instant sexual arousal and frenzy in any living creature. The longer you’re exposed to it, the stronger and longer-lasting the effects—and the more the out of control you get.”

“So basically, you’re a walking Viagra date-rape drug,” Jason sneers.

“It’s not supposed to be like that…”

“Again, I call bullshit. I remember all the stories. Whenever you’re involved, someone ends up falling for someone else without having a choice and bad shit happens. Helen of Troy ringing any bells?”

Eros crosses his arms, resembling Damian at his most petulant; meanwhile, Tim stares at Jason, who notices and scowls back. “What?”

“How do you know that?”

“I have depths,” he replies, tone mildly defensive.

“The stories get so much wrong. Blame primitive writers and centuries of telephone for that,” Eros mutters. “Here’s the deal—my mother, she’s got the make-people-fall-in-love juju. The overwhelming, powerful, love-at-first-sight thing that basically causes the honeymoon period of a relationship. You know, that point where you only see the good qualities in a person?”

Tim exchanges a perplexed look with Jason; he’s never been in a relationship with anyone where he saw only their good qualities, and judging by the older vigilante’s blank expression, neither has he.

“Right, forgot who I’m talking to. You cape types aren’t exactly the hallmark of romance, are you?”

“Yeah, well, you deity types aren’t exactly the hallmark of not getting punched.”

“We’ve already established why that would be a bad idea,” Tim mutters, his ears burning.

“I’m wearing gauntlets.”

“In a healthy relationship,” Eros goes on, ignoring the byplay, “sure, you spend a bit of time totally enamored with your boo. They’re your world. But after a while, that starts to fade. Some people, okay, they’ve stuck together for the getting-to-know-you period and decide to keep going. But others—they get a very real sense of buyer’s remorse.”

“Like Helen did. Or Phaedra or Atalanta,” Jason suggests, and Tim frowns; he only recognizes one of those names.

“Exactly. They realized they’d compromised themselves and ruined their lives for some petty asshole without even knowing it. And they couldn’t exactly do anything about it—in the old days, you were stuck with the guy and you had to make the best of it since, you know, no divorce. Nowadays, it’s not so bad—those whirlwind romances don’t last, but it’s not the end of the world. Celebrities are famous for them. Literally.”

“I don’t understand what all this has to do with you being here and now,” Tim says.

“I’m getting there. I was giving you guys context, geez! Anyway, with me, it’s a little different. It’s more than just that love-at-first-sight, quick and dirty thing. It’s about desire. That bone-deep connection, all need and hunger and slow-burning.” His face relaxes, mouth easing into a fond smile. “It was a deeper thrall than anything Mom had the patience for. With my tools, I could awaken that—in a controlled fashion—and focus it. But now—well, you saw what I can do with just a touch.”

Tim’s cheeks flame.

“The longer I don’t have my tools to temper me, my abilities will become more unstable. You ever see people literally fuck each other to death?” Eros challenges. “Trust me, you don’t want to. And it’s not just sex people desire. This one guy pissed me off once and I made him develop an unhealthy desire for corned beef—”

“If you know your power is about to go Chernobyl, why the hell are you running around town robbing people? You’d think you have more important things to worry about.”

“It’s because I’m losing control that I’ve been doing that.”

Tim narrows his eyes, even if no one can see it. “Explain.”

“Over time, artists pour their souls and creative desires into their work—into the canvas, the clay, the paint, whatever. There’s a magic in the creative act that turns a medium into a vessel. I’ve been having to bleed off my power into these vessels so I can get out and search for my diviners without causing riots. The process takes hours, though, and people generally don’t like me standing in a museum touching the merchandise.”

“So you steal it.”

“It eventually finds its way back. And their original owners usually find that the pieces seem somehow more—magnetic—once I’m done with them.”

“I don’t know how you made that sound dirty, but you did,” Jason grumbles.

“Are you kidding? I created innuendo. And the double entendre.” Eros makes a dismissive gesture. “Anyhow, it’s all moot. I won’t be capable of bleeding off my powers for much longer. As you just saw, my control is slipping. So, you two are going to have to find my bow and arrow for me.”

Tim blinks at the sudden turn of the conversation. “What?”

“Right. Because we don’t have enough of our own shit to deal with, we’re going to go on a scavenger hunt for some entitled godling? That’s not how we operate.”

“You won’t have much of a choice,” Eros replies, and there’s a cruel edge to his smile now. “Not if you want to save your life.”

“That a threat, buddy?”

“Oh, I’ve no need for threats. It’s already done.” Eros points at the still bleeding wound on Jason’s shoulder. “When you saved bird-boy here, you got tagged by the same bullet I did; my blood’s in your veins now. And unless it’s because of the horizontal tango, there are some really nasty side-effects when Olympian blood gets in your frail systems.” His smile remains cold and cruel. “Mine’s particularly nasty.”

Jason crosses his arms, radiating skepticism. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been poisoned. Probably won’t be the last.”

“It’s not poison, per se,” Eros muses. “More like a virus that manifests as an intense, increasingly growing desire that will turn you mad and cook your brain unless you find a way to stop it. And the only cure, I’m afraid, is to be, heh, pricked by one of my arrows.”

“And who the hell am I supposed to be desiring? Because if it’s you, I’m going to claw my eyes out now and get it over with.”

“Thankfully that’s not the case. While I’m sure you would look amazing splayed out in my bed, that doesn’t exactly give your friend here any incentive to help me.” He considers Tim a moment, and his smile turns knowing. “Or perhaps it would.”

“Why me?” Tim asks, trying to keep his voice level. A sudden spike or worry shoots through him at one possibility. “Anyone else could do this.”

“Uh, you’re the first person Helmet Head set eyes on after being infected? Honestly, it’s right there in the myths.”

“I was never into the classics,” Tim mutters, breathing a sigh of relief; none of this has anything to do with his ill-advised crush, which means Jason doesn’t have to know about it. “If it’s just me being around him, I can stay away from him. It’s not like it’s hard.”

I wish that weren’t true.

Jason is staring at him oddly and Tim’s stomach jumps at his inability to interpret anything through the lenses of his mask.

“Okay, princess, let me know how that goes,” Eros chuckles.

Tim swallows.

He knows that Olympians have power—that their relics do, as well; how could he not, considering he’s known Cassie and Diana for so long?

Still, it’s laughable that Jason could ever desire him.

(There’s only a little pain and bitterness in that knowledge.)

Jason appears to be on the same wavelength.

“I call bullshit. I’m not in the habit of lusting after people I’ve tried to kill. Bit counterproductive, you know?”

“You might resist it for a little while,” Eros allows. “Looks aside, you capes have a lot of restraint. And it’s not like I was feeding you my blood or anything, so it might take a little longer still. But even that will fade as the infection spreads.”

For the first time since Eros’ threat, Jason shifts uneasily.

“Now,” the Olympian says, rubbing his hands together, “while watching you two get down and dirty in front of me would be good entertainment—” he leers at them both in a way that makes Jason tense like he’s going to punch him again and Tim consider letting him, “—I don’t have the time. I need the two of you on your game as much as possible if you’re going to help me.”

“Who says we’re going to help you? We could just hand you over to Wonder Woman and have her deal with this. Gods and mythological relics are more her areas of expertise.”

“Ah, but my dear cousin won’t have the same…motivation that you do, darlin’. Unless you want Prince Charming over here to get to the point of losing his mind over you?” Eros tilts his head toward Jason. “I mean, I guess that’s your choice. He is a bit of a douche—”

“I will rip off those wings of yours and stuff them up your—”

Tim grabs Jason and pulls him back a few feet so he can speak to him quietly, but keep an eye on Eros. Almost instantly Jason shoves him off as if he’s just been burned, and Tim raises his hands in surrender.

“Arguing with him obviously isn’t going to do anything,” he informs him.

“He’s obviously lying—trying to mess with us to do his bidding.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Until we know if this is truth or a bluff, we need to put him in a safe location. He needs to be tried for the thefts, regardless of his reasons. And since he has abilities, we’ll need a facility that can cancel-out meta powers.”

“Just keep him the fuck out of Belle Reve,” Jason grumbles. “We don’t need him ending up as one of Waller’s not-so-secret projects.”

“And in the meantime, we monitor your condition,” Tim goes on. “Back at the Cave, B has—”

“I’m not going to the damn Cave.”

“J—Hood, if he’s telling even part of the truth, you could be in trouble.”

“Because I’m going to lose my mind over your scrawny ass? I don’t think so.” He turns away. “Screw this, I’m out. You can figure this out. Gods are above my paygrade.”

He has his grapple gun out and an instant later vanishes into the night. And it’s like any other patrol; barely an acknowledgment of their team-up or thanks or farewell.

“He shouldn’t have done that,” Eros says, shaking his head. “Bad things happen when you repress your desires. It comes out in ugly ways.”

Irritation sparks in Tim.

“That bullet that went through your wing—has it healed yet?” he asks tersely, rummaging in his utility belt as he approaches the Olympian. “I can’t see since they…disappeared.”

“It’s not gushing blood anymore, but there’s still a dirty great hole there. Why?”

Without warning, Tim turns around and sticks a syringe into his neck, careful not to brush any skin accidentally as he pushes down the plunger.

“What the fu—” Eros’ words cut off with a gurgle.

“Just need to know how much time I have before the sedative wears off,” Tim replies. It was designed with Wonder Woman in mind, so he really hopes it’s strong enough.

The Olympian pitches forward. Tim catches him, and curses at the weight he hadn’t expected; wherever those wings are, they still contribute to the body’s overall mass, it seems.

⁂

Jason makes a beeline for his safe house on the Upper West Side; the events of the night have been such a disappointment that he figures he deserves to crash at one of his more comfortable properties. Somewhere with good heating and decent water pressure and a few of his favorite books tucked away.

“Not the leftover pizza I was looking forward to, but it’ll do,” he murmurs to himself. To be honest, his appetite’s all but disappeared in the wake of tonight’s revelations.

Not that Jason is concerned about whatever Eros or Steve or whatever-his-name-is told them. Some guy calls himself the god of love and informs Jason he’s been infected with an unholy desire that’s going to drive him mad and kill him?

“Been there. Done that. And for Drake of all people? Pfft. Please.”

The Condiment King had more credibility.

Besides, even if it was a believable threat, it’s not as if he’s going to just accept it. Jason’s always had issues with other people telling him what to do, and he’s been on the wrong end of Poison Ivy’s concoctions far too often for that. If there’s a chance something’s going to impact or impair his control over his own actions, he’s got a problem with that.

And it’s just…it’s Tim Drake.

Jason has been carefully trying to reconfigure his mental categorization of the guy for years, from ‘Replacement—Must Beat To Death On Sight’, to ‘Timbers—Ally-Possibly-Friend-Kinda-Brother-Sort Of?’. It’s still a work-in-progress figuring out which category he fits in, and Jason doesn’t need to add more complications, such as those that will no doubt ensue if he considers adding any other relationship dimensions.

Not like the kid’s a terrible catch or anything. Jason saw that long before he figured out he isn’t one hundred percent straight. But that was his own discovery, born of conscious choice. Not from someone telling him in plain English that he’s got no choice but to develop a thing for a workaholic pretty-boy Bat with self-esteem issues.

Which means on principle, Jason’s damn well going to fight that. It doesn’t matter that Tim’s intelligent, sarcastic and the right kind of risky, or that he isn’t repulsive or even unattractive—

Jason adamantly cuts off that line of thinking when he realizes where it’s going, touching down on the roof of his building a little harder than necessary.

“Nope. Not going there.”

Talk about a mind-fuck. Asshole Steve got me thinking about it, and now I won’t be able to not think about it whenever I run into the kid.

And isn’t that a keen bit of psychological manipulation?

Luckily, Jason’s been trained by more than one master in the art of avoidance. He forces his attention onto the routine of checking the perimeter and disabling his security system, then slipping into his apartment through the roof-access.

“Hello, safe house,” he mutters out of habit, heading for his bathroom. Once inside, he methodically checks himself for injuries, which are overall minor. The bullet wound in his shoulder is scabbing over already.

He tries to ignore the uneasy clench in his stomach at that and the prevalent thought of that is not a good sign.

He heads for the shower and turns the water on as hot as he can stand, letting it distract him, unwinding the knots and tension holding him together. Once he’s out, he throws on a pair of boxer briefs and settles in the center of his bed to meditate. It takes longer tonight to get his brain and still-racing heartrate to ease, to remember his All-Caste training and seek acceptance in the darkest part of his soul, and the possibility that that will be enough to counteract whatever real or imagined threat was made by the so-called god of love.

Dawn is peeking over Gotham’s horizon when he finally manages to calm himself down and pass out. For once, he sleeps; for once he doesn’t dream of Glasgow smiles and green sludge.

When he wakes up, it’s with odd energy that borders on manic. He powers through his morning workout at full intensity and still has energy left over, which he uses to cook breakfast and a few advance meals that he can stick in the freezer for the next time he holes up here. All his safe houses include have decent food storage since he never knows when lying low is going to translate as ‘disappear completely off the grid for a while.

When he’s still buzzing and raring to go, he decides he can’t put it off any longer. He’s not stupid—has been in the game long enough to know it’s pointless to ignore something completely until you’ve investigated the hell out of it.

Which is how he finds himself down in his would-be-Batcave beneath One Police Plaza running a full set of blood panels and other diagnostics to see if there’s an actual sign of contamination from the tainted bullet. And when everything comes back negative, he even checks in with Doc Thompkins for her two cents worth that nothing is the matter with him.

“I’m not sure what you want me to tell you, Jason, everything’s coming up normal,” Thompkins tells him. “The only thing I can recommend is the same thing I always do—stop smoking.”

“But then I wouldn’t have an excuse to come see you so you can scold me,” he grins at her, earning an arch look above the rim of her glasses.

Still, he remains antsy even after leaving the clinic and decides he needs to calm his nerves.

There’s a coffee shop on Winchester he’s taken to because they do tea as close to Alfred’s as possible, at least what he’s found in Gotham. The teenaged girl at the counter blushes and laughs nervously at him when he smiles and flirts a bit, and he makes sure to tip well because kids in the service industry are paid nothing for being treated like crap.

Still, it’s hard to stop himself from drumming his fingers against the counter, his innate impatience ratcheted up today. He knows the place is busy and they can only go as fast as they’re going, but—

“An Americano, please. Double shot.”

Jason’s looking before he even realizes it, and for a split second he expects to see Tim there, sleep-deprived and sheepish, but only finds a blond skater kid and he’s—

Not disappointed.

He’s not.

That’s all he needs, is someone in the Family finding out where he goes to get his tea. That might encourage them to try to hang out with him. Especially Dick.

So, no. Not disappointed. Relieved. He’s relieved.

(He avoids wondering when he memorized Tim Drake’s coffee preferences.)

Jason doesn’t stick around the shop like he originally planned, and the tea isn’t as calming as he intended after he practically chugs it and heads out. He spends the day running around town, checking in with his informants in the shadier parts of the city and restocking the medical supplies in his safe houses.

He’s coming out of the one near Robinson Park when he hears a kid shouting— “Mama, look at the baby bird!”—and his head whips around so fast his muscles scream in protest, and what the hell?

Jason turns in the opposite direction and takes the subway.

He’s tense and angry as he returns to the base beneath the police station and spends longer than usual letting out his feelings on the punching bag in his gym. Halfway through, his phone rings and Roy’s face blinks up from the screen.

“Please tell me you have a job,” Jason says in lieu of a greeting.

“What? No. I’m still on vacation.”

“Your life is a vacation.”

“Yeah, that’s why it’s so great.”

That’s said with a bitter twist to his mouth.

“What do you want?”

“I’m working on camouflage field projector, but missing a key component that happens to be in Gotham.” Jason closes his eyes, somehow knowing what’s coming next. “And I figure, you’ve got an in—any chance you put in a good word for me with your little brother? The pretty one on all the TV commercials.”

“Ask him yourself, I’m not a fucking messenger,” Jason growls. “And he’s not my brother.”

He hangs up and glares at his phone, contemplating whether throwing it at the wall will make him feel better.

This is not happening…

The punching bag no longer cutting it, he throws on his gear and heads out for patrol, hoping that will quell the sensation of fire in his blood. Throws himself into it with brutal abandon, the only goal being to take his mind off everything. Violence is the best way to bring him back to the very basest mind frame, where he is focussed only on the thrill of the fight.

It works, for a while.

He hauls a few johns to the curb when they get too rough with the girls, gives a bunch of teens robbing a bodega in his neighborhood something to think about, puts an end to a bar fight when a customer gets handsy with a waitress, stumbles into a domestic dispute with a guy smacking around his kid—

Jason relishes in the sound of broken bones and the reminders of the fact he’s the one in control. It almost seems like he’s getting back to himself by the end of the evening. He feels more himself, less uneasy; there's still something buzzing beneath his skin, but it’s negligible.

See? It was total bull. God of love my ass, he was just messing with my head.

He takes a moment to rest, gazing out across the skyline and digging for a cigarette. One more loop around the neighborhood, and he’ll head home. He’s just turning his back against the wind so he can light the cigarette when he finds himself face to face with Tim Drake.

Or rather, a giant billboard with his face on it, advertising the Neon Knights initiative.

The cigarette drops from his hands.

“This is not happening,” he murmurs, and he’s said that at least once today already, hasn’t he?

But it’s getting ridiculous. Like he’s being shadowed wherever he goes by the specter of Tim, and all because someone else decided to play mind games with him.

Well, screw that. My head’s been messed with enough.

He takes a running leap off the roof, deciding to forgo anymore patrolling. It might be an idea to get out of Gotham for a few days if only to take a break.

But no, he’s not being chased out of his own damn city. No one chases the Red Hood out of Gotham, except on occasion Batman, and that’s not chasing so much as Jason telling Bruce to fuck off and making a pointed exit. And Steve is no Batman.

I’m going to take off a few days. Been wound up the past few weeks anyway, it’s getting to me. Things will go back to normal as soon as I—

His shoulders tense as he recognizes the sensation of eyes on him.

Someone’s following him.

It’s reflex to melt into the shadows of the next building, slipping around so that he can get a good vantage point. If someone’s planning an ambush, he’s more than happy to turn it around on them. And the mood he’s in tonight if it’s someone that can give him an actual fight—

There’s a sound of someone landing on the rooftop, and the whirring of a grapple line retracting. And then Jason zeroes in on the familiar figure in black and red. That strange knot of anxiety he’s been carrying around the whole day lets go as he recognizes him, and in its place, something else springs up, almost like…relief?

Which, no, he should not be relieved to see Red Robin. The only time he should ever be relieved to see the Tim is if he’s in the middle of a duel to the death with the Joker and needs back-up from someone capable of thinking a dozen steps ahead.

Relief is replaced with anger, and Jason lies in wait until Tim alights on the same roof, and then slips forward to grab hold of him. He neatly dodges the other vigilante’s attempts to free himself from the hold and drags him over to the edge of the roof.

“Jason? What the hell—?”

He ignores him and dangles him over the edge, forcing Tim to grasp at his wrist and hold on tight.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t drop you for not following the rules—you remember, the ‘no bats in my territory’ rule? I get that it’s unofficial and all, but it’s still there,” he snarls.

“I—I wanted to check on you!” Tim grunts. “It’s been twenty-four hours, and—”

“And what? Wanted to check if I was ready to jump your malnourished bones yet? Wouldn’t looking for me be a monumentally stupid thing to do if that were the case?” Jason yanks Tim back over the edge and tosses him back onto the roof, gratified to see him stumble as he tries to regain his balance. “I don’t need you pretending you give a shit to ease a guilty conscience of because you think checking up on me is something B would want you to do. Go back to California, Replacement. If I need help, I’ll ask. And chances are, I won’t be asking you.”

Tim’s fists clench, and he’s tense like he’s priming to argue, but after a beat, his shoulders droop and he huffs.

“Fine,” he says in a neutral voice. “Just as long as you ask someone.”

And then he’s grappling off without another word, and it isn’t as cathartic to see the back of him as Jason figured it would be.

Like he has any right to sound concerned…

He should feel better, now that he’s gotten his message across, but he doesn’t. The foul mood continues for the rest of his patrol, which he ends up cutting short because his head is just not in it tonight.

He is deliberate in choosing his safe house in Coventry, figuring he’s less likely to run into Red Robin on patrol there or in general. It’s nowhere near his usual patrol route, or the apartment he owns on Park Row—and fuck him for making Jason want to avoid his own stomping grounds!

It’s just for one night. Until I calm down and can be trusted not to shoot the kid.

But the nervous, frustrated ball of discomfort in his gut doesn’t go away as he settles in for the night. He doesn’t bother with a shower or cigarette, or—well, his normal way to wind down when feeling like this, because he doesn’t trust himself not to let his mind wander to places it shouldn’t while his hand is on his dick.

It’s more difficult to meditate tonight, and he remains aggravated and angry as he drifts off to sleep.

It should be no surprise that that night, he dreams of Tim for the first time.

⁂⁂⁂

Next Chapter

#jaytimweek2019 #jaytimweek #jaytim #jaytimbingo2019 #fanfic #jaytim fic #batfic #tim drake #jason todd #eros (new earth)#mythology #gods in disguise #violet writes #drama #angst #introspection

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ineedtherapistsposts · 4 years

Text

I need therapy

I need therapy. That’s the first step to anything right? Admitting you need something or admitting to something. Well here is my admission. I am fucked up. I am screwed up. Insane in the membrane. Royally fucked up without the royalties, at least I didn’t throw away my glitter and gold like Meghan Markle though... IDIOT! *Napoleon Dynamite voice* jk jk you do you girl. But anyways, I’m messed up. Some of my own doing, probably mostly my own but life hasn’t always lead me down a nicely paved road. I’ve fucked up and that’s for damn sure, you can ask my mom, that absolute SAINT of a human, friends who I’ve hurt, hearts that I’ve broken, but I’ve also been on the receiving end of hurt. People say you reap what you sow but I didn’t sow ALL of this shit! Or however that sentence should go, semantics, you get what I’m trying to say here. But now that I’ve veered off track , which happens V often, let’s get back to it. I have a past that has built me, things that have happened in my life that have changed me, they may not be wildly traumatic to you but they were essential to who I have become. I have been torn down, beaten, bruised and scarred. So, I need therapy and this is my first step. This is my inner monologue, the things I want to say but am too afraid, or maybe simply just not ready to say to another human yet, the things in my life that have made me bitter, made me happy, made me cry, hurt, or yearn; my struggles, the reasons I ache, the reasons I am who I am, and why I am the way I am. I’m going to let it all out on the table, word vomit all over this bitch. But this is how I am starting my therapy. If no one ever reads this, fine by me, I am doing this for me and if someone does read this I hope at least I make you laugh with my awful and sometimes crudely dry sense of humor and the ridiculous things that have happened to me. Don’t feel bad if my story is fucked cause a lot of them are, because I have learned from them or am still learning and I know how to laugh at myself in the darkest of time, thanks for that fucked trait parents. But if you do read this and I hit something in you where you can relate, I hope I can make you feel less alone in this world, and instill some hope for your future, or make you feel less judged or something else, whatever else you need in this moment.

So let’s get this ball rolling. I’m bringing you back, waaaayyy back to my first rejection. Where it all started. To the mean streets of suburbia USA when this little blonde Afro haired girl in kindergarten was in love for the first time. HAH bet you weren’t expecting that but I’m telling this story because why not at least start it off on an adorable note cause I was fucking adorable! So here I am this little nugget who was in love with my neighbor, we’ll call l him Bob. Bob and I happened to be in the same kindergarten class, we lived on the same street, our parents were friends, our siblings were friends, so we were friends. I mean that’s how it goes right? So anyways 6 yo me fell in love with 6 yo Bob, we were going to get married, he just didn’t know yet. One day I was walking down the street and found a fake rose. Light fucking bulb! I had a plan. I picked up that rose, and in my little mind, it was beautiful! This rose, that had probably been run over by multiple cars, fell out of someone’s trash can, pissed on by a raccoon, was how I was going to declare my love. I went home and wrote Bob a note. Now unfortunately, I don’t remember what that note said, but I’m going to go along the lines of, “I love you do you love me check yes or no” with multiple spelling errors (remember we’re in kindergarten here). I set off to school the next day, put the rose and the note is his back pack when he wasn’t looking and waited. Now I’m starting to think is where I bloomed as a creeper. And I don’t mean like I creepily stalk people in person, I’m a normal creeper, I can find anyone on social media and I look up everyone I meet on the judicial system to see if they have a record and what they did, I’m not trying to meet knew people and get murdered a week in. So a normal 20th century millennial creeper. And just to prove a point here i used the word millennial, which I will never EVER refer to myself as again. See, very easily side tracked. Back to the tragic story that is Bob and I’s unrequited love. Later that day, Bob goes into his backpack sees the note and the rose and shows his bro’s and they all start laughing. I now realize I made a mistake and my plan, not a good one. BUT! Clearly I wasn’t the smartest of them all but, it did work in my favor cause 6 yo me, you know what she didn’t do? She didn’t write her fucking name on the damn note! Halle-fucking-lujah! So along with everyone else I joined in on laughing cause it’s fucking kindergarten and we’re all dumb and no one was the wiser. But poor 6 yo me never got her answer, we could have been kindergarten sweet hearts Bob! Married with all the dogs and trash roses decorating our home! We’ll never know now.

So I’m just going to blame this for my relationship and communication problems. Even over 20 years later in my life, I have problems with this. Not with you Bob, you’re forgiven, we’re good, I hope you’re happy somewhere in your life with real roses. I’m not good at expressing my feelings, or more so, I don’t like to for this fear of rejection. I’ve been in many relationships some that have been short and some lasting years that I thought would last forever (you’ll get to meet some of these people don’t you fret). But, with each one I find it harder and harder to communicate. You would think with all this practice I’d be a pro by now but NOPE, very far from that and that makes relationships so much more complicated and difficult for me now. I can’t tell people how I feel for that fear of rejection. It seems the people I truly care for never feel the same for me, BUT, pretend they do, say the right things, the things they know I want to hear just to keep me dangling on a stupid string that I can’t cut; or are so easily able to walk away from me. So I shut my mouth and suffer in silence, cry in the shower, you know all the normal things.

You think this is too far of a stretch? Well fuck you then, this my fucked life, and my monologue. Sorry, I can be defensive, and there’s another issue for another time.

#i need therapy #unreciprocated love #unrequited love #laugh at my pain #laugh at yourself #young love #garbage rose #relationships #love #inner monologue #my therapy #writing therapy #relationship problems #communication #rejection #cutting the string

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floggingink · 6 years

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Riverdale, “Chapter Thirty-Eight: As Above, So Below”

Day At Least Seven Solitary Coif: struggling

Alice’s thigh: stunning

Sexy, aesthetic Southside: FP’s jellybean tattoo: incredibly, tenderly sad

Certified pedigree: “I’m glad the Farm opened you up to the possibility of us”: either Alice thought about this to herself, or she (absolutely) asked the rest of her cult what they thought. what they THOUGHT about her sleeping with FP again. “What d’you think, girls?” Alice wine clubbed FP Jones’s dick!

who has more game, FP or Jughead? FP a) is a grown man, b) is oftentimes gainfully employed (I’ve forgotten if he’s employed right now), c) is strong enough to carry a high school boy out of the woods, d) was VERY smooth with his seemingly instinctual “Then don’t. Tell him,” e) did that thing where he took the gum out of his mouth when Alice came to his trailer, and f) looked pretty good in his crisp Pop’s uniform when he was employed at Pop’s. however FP also a) tends to drink when not employed and b) is fucking obsessed with Toledo, a town I will burn to the ground if I ever set foot in it. meanwhile, Jughead a) climbed up a fucking ladder to Betty’s bedroom, b) ABSOLUTELY KILLED IT when he and Betty almost fucked each other in the kitchen, c) KILLED IT AND BURIED IT in the moments before fucking her on the couch when he was all, “Or you could stay,” and fucking touched her dress like she was an angel of the Lord and he was just a humble shepherd boy whose eyes were not worthy to gaze upon her countenance, d) only strategically removes his hat, and e) rides a motorcycle. the hat is not a con, necessarily, and being a writer in high school is a cross some of us simply have to bear, but he is like, kind of a pain sometimes and a little squirrelly, but w/r/t the love of his life, he has tailored himself to her every need almost perfectly

OH AND I FORGOT WHEN HE KISSED HER SCABBY BLOOD KNUCKLES! OH SHIT!

Veronica has the most game on the entire show

I like when they have Jughead use words like “modicum”

“Ben’s death haunts me, Jug. He didn’t scream. Why not, I wonder?”: writing credits this episode go to Daphne de Maurier

YYEEEAAAAAHHH THE BLUE & GOLD CRIME BOARD BABY

I would almost expect something more from the warden’s tie, except that I know plain clothing is, in and of itself, a warning sign

anything that gets Veronica in her reading glasses is okay by me, and this includes Pop’s hemorrhaging money

Jughead can wear just a T-shirt sans jacket or flannel any old time he wants, I’m just putting that vibe out there

“Of course we’re calling it a speakeasy.”

Jug’s suspender game is strong, so really Betty should know she has nothing to worry about

his stupid dumb round face looking at her when she pulls him aside is pretty. remember when he kissed her hands? fucking Jughead sometimes, dude

“Evelyn...creeps me out.”

I like Betty’s overalls and Evelyn’s romper thing

what I expected when Kevin dialed the phone was for the whole booth to sink into the basement like a surprise elevator

Kander and Ebb wrote the music to, among much else, Cabaret and Chicago, those being some of their most gay

I LOVE VERONICA’S WHITE SHIRT. IT’S JUST A FUCKING PLAIN WHITE SHIRT, SHE IS SO BEAUTIFUL

Every triangle has three corners, every triangle has three sides: is there some heat between Veronica and Reggie? am I crazy?

the foursome of Reg, Ronnie, Josie, and Kev is basically just as strong as the cour four strictly in terms of hair

I don’t know that I like Penny’s sleeveless Ghoulies vest more than her leather Serpents jacket but I do know I like it at least the same amount (oodles)

Fwoopy hair is the best hair: Day One Lifted Bag Off Head Hair: GREAT

OH MY GOD, JOAQUIN!!!! WHEN WILL JOAQUIN REST. DOES EVERY TERRIBLE THING HAVE TO HAPPEN TO JOAQUIN BEFORE IT HAPPENS TO SOMEONE ELSE. IS JOAQUIN IN THE FARM

does Archie have a scar on his head? is it KJ’s? have I lost track of something?

Gay?!: BABY TEETH is an absolute twink and he was tapped to save his life

I’m suspicious of Peter because his name is, simply, “Peter”

Gay.: Cheryl and Toni are just like lounging in a single chair together and that’s the bisexual agenda

Veronica was rich: Veronica’s heavy card stock IS very nice

Ethel’s cute yellow cardigan is back, which matches her thermos and lunchbox

I enjoyed when Betty sits down and you think she’s going to apologize for being there at Ben’s death but instead she just fucking grills Ethel some more

“...G&G.”

OOOOOOHHHHHHH JUGHEAD’S TURNING IT ON WITH THAT PRINCESS SHIT

Please protect Betty: Betty’s entire expression at being told she’s “not worthy,” God bless her

The female gaze: I don’t know why Reggie’s shirt is off. probably Reggie doesn’t even know

Reggie’s panicked JJ face is one of the top five panicked faces of all time. he’s tied at least with the girl in Jurassic Park when she sees the raptor shadow and her hand holding that green Jell-O starts shaking

Minetta doesn’t even pretend he’s looking for something other than whatever was in those boxes. cold, Minetta

REGGIE’S SALUTE

Reg simply being aware that Minetta and the Ghoulies work for Hiram almost brings me to tears. not only is he a walking sculpture with a pair of lips that would make Sarah Steller throw herself off the Hoover Dam, but he is also a genius

VERONICA IS SO BEAUTIFUL. “Not until I’m properly armed.” just look at her!

Ethel didn’t even come to the first meeting of the Farm Club? cold, Ethel

Evelyn offering Betty a pizza slice comes off as her genuinely wanting Betty to have a piece of pizza if she wants, which is the first non-creepy thing she’s done (Jughead would take the pizza)

she of course follows this up with “that darn medication”

Archie looks like a corpse in the blue light

tell me “wakey, wakey” is a Kill Bill reference. TELL ME IT IS

the guy they have fighting Archie looks just enough like Khabib Nurmagomedov that I was like, is this an unconscious wish on someone’s part to do a rematch of red-haired McGregor vs. Khabib except it’s on Riverdale so it’s in something called “the Pit” which is a drained swimming pool and they’re in juvie? (it’d have to be a fantasy in that Conor McGregor would get his ass beaten by Khabib Nurmagomedov in any rematch in any universe, in the universe)

dude does his best but, as Sweet Pea and Vintage Reggie can tell you, you cannot let Archie land a) a right hook or b) an uppercut or he will end this fight

who’re the rando white women watching? their fucking wives? goddammit, white women

I think Baby Teeth could take Reggie jawline-to-jawline

Veronica’s kittenish heels sinking into the dirt as opposed to her striding effortlessly as Moses parting the Red Sea

Cheryl’s a chaos angel from hell: “THAT VIPER BITCH”

Antoinette Topaz is fluent in many languages, including Veronica’s

God bless jingle-jangle: the fucking cat burglar sequence set to “Jingle Jangle” just about fucking did it

Ethel’s candle game is reaching midnight mass-levels of mastery

so did Betty and Jughead get their ad hoc sex den (good band name) out of the bunker before Ethel got there? or was it there the whole time but for Ben and Ethel?

I feel I want to write down that Ben abandoned Ethel to ascend prematurely with Dilton otherwise I’ll forget and will be tricked by something later on

POLLY’S KNITTED HALTER

closed captioning capitalized the Shady Man, the second strangest Riverdale skull

Alice really just did Betty like that! maybe Betty DOES need to live in a bunker

50 Shades of Betty: “The wig. The webcaming.”

I love how Betty always gets very sarcastically OH, OKAY THEN when she decides to start laying out some truths

Alice stands up and her dress has some sort of insane asymmetrical hemline and she’s also got an ankle bracelet!!!!!!

Dilton Doiley Ethel Muggs is a canonically great dancer the DM: Ethel’s little crush on Jughead circa his birthday party has not abated. even when he was being insane about the Serpents I bet she entertained sweet fantasies of buying a pleather jacket off ModCloth and Jughead “inducting” her. so she found herself a coterie of pliable boys who were also gangly and weird and obsessed with details and pacts and she became their princess. so THERE. you fucking bet she’s gonna get a kiss out of Jughead before she fucking poisons herself

Ethel’s dungeon master voice is giving me a sort of ASMR vibe

I don’t want to veer too wildly but she is wearing a crown, her character has “a crown”

dog, was she about to kill Jughead right then and there? Ethel goes hard. Ethel might go harder than Jughead

“You’re asking me to play Russian roulette!” “I’m asking you to play Gryphons and Gargoyles.” THIS BITCH (in context it’s very smooth and bitchy)

GOD BUT JUGHEAD DID DRINK IT. VERY WELL KNOWINGLY, HE DID IT

Jughead eats: Salud is just the sort of thing I’d expect Jug to say before maybe drinking cyanide (or skol, if he had been watching Ingmar Bergman)

I don’t know if I could drink that much Kool-Aid that fast. Kool-Aid and Sunny D always made my teeth feel filmy. I could definitely down that much Capri Sun, if it were in a pouch the size of my shin

anyway Ethel’s sick move telling Jughead he has to kiss her first got an emotional reaction from me at almost the level of when Cheryl came down to Jason’s wake in that white dress

Jughead and Ethel are almost of a height, which is weirdly lovely

These students are legally children: maybe Ethel put the poison in after Jughead had chosen. I maybe doubt she would’ve just fucking assassinated Jughead

Jughead was reading next to her when she woke up, which is just a specific kind of daydream you have, sometimes

Sixth period is Intro to Film: HEISENBURG

Toni’s pictures are certainly shot with a mind to lighting, depth

is blue light the light of evil? Hiram’s study, the warden’s office?

Archie > Dawson: of course Archie imagines talking to his father and of course he imagines his father telling him to “take one.” I love Self-Sacrificial Lamb Archie (or just momentarily self-sacrificing). better than Fascist Archie!

well, Betty’s room has blue light too. fucking forget it then

although she is SURROUNDED BY EVIL at all times

Mädchen Amick, MÄDCHEN AMICK: “I trust them more than I trust you” is season one-level Alice-shade

Cheryl’s sheaths: I like very much Cheryl’s bosomy sequin thing and Toni’s back jewelry

I also like the RROTC boys in their like WWII uniforms, which may be anachronistic but still hard vintage, and the cigar girls

Jughead doubts it: there’s so much going on when Betty goes all melty and wipes some of the Fresh-Aid off Jug’s lips and Jug, who is not smiling, looks at Sweet Pea helping Veronica

Best costume bit: Veronica is in magenta, because I deserve it

I can’t wholly endorse Reggie’s non-black plaid trousers paired with a solid black blazer but I CAN endorse Reggie as a whole

Cheryl’s Hiram’s pins: I think Hiram has a fucking octopus pin! I think it is!!!!!!!!

the wallpaper behind Hiram downstairs is...interesting. it’s like a cutout from that Disney cartoon for “Winter Wonderland”

we stay on Veronica’s face for sort of an extra beat, so I can confirm a) she’s still beautiful and b) she has a sparkly thing in her hair

The 2001 Josie and the Pussycats movie was a masterpiece: Josie’s got that thing going on where you gem up the part in your hair

God I love a good Riverdale music/mayhem montage. like what were they playing when Jughead ran the gauntlet? fuck sometimes this stuff is just still so good (“Mess Around” when Reggie lunged for Jughead also counts, though not performed live somewhere else in Riverdale at the same moment)

“Anything Goes” is in fact not Kander and Ebb but Cole Porter

I’ve seen Brick like thirty times: I love a good bead of bloody spit dangling from someone’s mouth during a slow-mo fight sequence

I’m writing a scene where it’s gay.: “THAT KID…..IS A STAR.”

that fucking rum, can you believe it? the fucking shade of it all

Fifth period is AP English: OH MY GOD. THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO. OH MY GOD, THE FUCKING HAMMER. THE COUNT OF MONTE MOTHERFUCKING GODDAMN YES GOD HOLY BITCH

“Damn good coffee”: the goddamn shot of FP and Alice standing together flanked by the flames of their righteous destruction of the G&G manual

Summer + Blair = Veronica: Veronica is pretty fucking brave to still be living in Hiram Lodge’s HOUSE. and of course that’s what her dressing gown looks like

oh my god, Joaquin is still alive? Joaquin’s STILL HERE?

ARCHIE’S GONNA BREAK OUT OF PRISON AND I MUST CLEANSE MYSELF OF SIN TO BE WORTHY OF ITS GLORY (I trust Riverdale a lot more again at the moment)

so wait, Jughead put the cot BACK? are these two different bunkers? is it the same effing bunker???

“It’s over”: you fucking fool

yes, it’s the same goddamn bunker. the candles are still there! I guess I thought the wicked juju from Ethel’s ~SUICIDE ATTEMPT~ would deter the two of them from FUCKING IN THE EXACT SAME BUNKER but Betty and Jughead literally do not give a single damn where they do it

Jug’s headphones!!!!!!!!!

Cheryl’s expression at reading the G&G manual is appropriately be-Blossomed

The Blossom spawn: she still has a photo of Jason in her locker and I think a sticker that says “Literally no one cares”

What damn high school in America: those manuals have a QR code on the back, so you can play on your phone! GIVE ME THE APP, RAS

who unsheathed Ethel? LORD, WHO LET HER LOOSE?

GEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

NEXT WEEK: Camila Mendes wears glasses the entire time

#riverdale #i say #commentary #tropes

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