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defaulttwig · 1 year

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Avatar’s First Braids

Neteyam x gn!reader

Summary: Just like Spider, you have your own avatar, though you had to wait until you were older before you could use yours. As such, to celebrate your new blue, the Sullys want to braid your avatar’s hair.

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: Help, this was supposed to focus on Neteyam and it's just one big fic about his siblings instead, but I promise there's still a crumb of Neteyam. I really took my own liberties with some Avatar lore so it’s probably inaccurate lol. This is platonic/romantic, wrote it kinda down the middle. Neteyam is aged up to 20 here.

At fifteen years old, you could not describe the bizarreness of watching a tiny body, your body, float in an amnio tank. Your very own avatar, steadily growing at a pace beyond the growth rate of native Na’vi, twitched in a dreamlike state. Tiny blue hands curled around a chubby blue face. Small tendrils of nerves floated out of the base of the skull, surrounded by baby hair. You could not believe what kuru looked like before the braids. A bit creepy, if you had to be honest.

You weren’t alone. Spider stood right next to you with Tuk in front of you two. Lo’ak and Kiri stood on his other side and Neteyam was right next to you. His forearm rested against the glass of the tank as he leaned into your space, tilting his head to observe the baby. The Na’vi half of your group each had a rebreather in hand, inhaling from it every so often. All six of you watched the small twitches, mesmerized by the little thing.

It had only been a few weeks since you watched it grow from an embryo. You had been the most fascinated watching the rapidly growing progress of the avatar, coming nearly every day to watch. It led to Neteyam and Spider hanging around, then Lo’ak and Kiri, and finally Tuk could not be left out. You could stand around all day and watch. This was your avatar.

“So,” Spider spoke over the silence. “What if it’s an outie?”

Lo’ak scoffed, already biting back a smile. “Bro, that’s what you’re thinking about?”

Spider gestured to the umbilical cord attached to the baby’s stomach. He huffed in defense of himself. “You guys all made fun of my avatar having an outie.”

You snapped your head in his direction, offended that he lumped you up with the rest of them. “I didn’t.”

“That’s because you’re you, Spider.” Neteyam teased, leaning forward past you to make eye contact. He pressed the rebreather to his mouth for a breath. “Besides, yours was the first with an outie belly button.”

Tuk looked down at her stomach and traced her belly button. “I can’t imagine having my belly button out like that.”

“It’s not that weird,” Kiri countered. “Only at first, it was.”

“Bro, look at you. You’re fine.” Lo’ak reached over and stuck his finger in Spider’s belly button, earning a shout and a smack to the hand. Spider laid his palm over his belly button while Lo’ak laughed and straightened himself. “You know we didn’t mean it.”

Yeah, when Spider first entered his avatar after decantation, the immediate thing the Na’vi children noticed was the protruding belly button. It was then you realized that none of the Na’vi had outies, unlike humans who could have either innie or outie. While they could excuse the appearance of an outie on a human, given the many physical discrepancies between humans and Na’vi, they teased Spider for having one on his avatar. Just another physical difference on top of eyebrows and five digits on the hands and feet of avatars.

You rolled your eyes. “Can we stop talking about belly buttons?”

“Okay,” Neteyam agreed. He gestured with his hand above the amnio tank. “How long does this take, again?”

“Five years,” a voice behind caused you all to turn. Norm approached your group with a grimace. “Why are you all hanging around the test tube avatar?”

“So why couldn’t this avatar,” Tuk pointed at the tank while inhaling from the rebreather, ignoring the question, “grow at the same time as Spider’s? Wouldn’t that save time?”

“Unfortunately our resources are limited and we don’t have the space to incubate multiple avatars at a time.” Norm made a small gesture for which you all parted to let him through. He looked at the baby avatar, then at you six. “Now, can you please go hang out somewhere else? The lab is not a playground.”

Per his suggestion, you dispersed from the lab. The Sullys set the rebreathers back on the rack on their way out, Tuk bouncing happily ahead of you. Spider brought the conversation back to belly buttons and you groaned, telling him to move on. Doing what any teen did, you all flocked to another area of the camp to bother someone else.

Five years. That’s how long you had to wait.

+:+:+:+:+

You were going to throw up.

Well, you thought you were. Nerves knot your stomach tight, worsened by the butterflies fluttering in it. Your heart hammered in your chest. You laid your hands over your stomach, twiddling with your fingers. The overhead lights were bright. So, so bright.

Currently, you waited on the link bed to make your first connection. Sure, you waited years for this moment, but now that it was right in front of you, you dreaded it. Would it hurt? Would it make you more nauseous than you already were? In the coming weeks, you pestered Spider about the sensation. You had to know every little detail. Question after question, the routine grew old fast and Spider eventually repeated the phrase don’t worry about it. Not the best advice you received.

To make matters worse, your friends were not there with you. Kiri and Lo’ak had grown too tall to comfortably stand in the lab with you and Lo’ak didn’t want Tuk’s unfiltered mouth to raise more panic in you. Spider decided to wait with them outside your avatar’s lab room. All to take in the first impression.

“Take it easy,” Dr. Max Patel said from the computer system beside you. His eyes darted across the screen. “You’re going to be fine when you wake up.”

You turned your head to face him. “Are you sure?”

A great question to ask the guy who’s been doing this longer than you’ve been alive. He glanced your way. You took that as your answer and returned to your original position, focusing on controlling your breaths. The link bed wasn’t entirely uncomfortable, at least.

When Max faced you to grab the hood of the bed, you moved your hands to your sides. He gave you a few more words of encouragement and you nodded, half listening. Really, you just didn’t want to throw up right now.

When the hood closed, you noticed how heavy you breathed. Your stomach twisted tighter and you screwed your eyes shut. You could do this. You could do this. As another wave of nausea hit you, you held your breath.

“Movement behind the eyelids.”

Someone called your name. “If you can hear me, can you open your eyes?”

You obeyed, opening them only to flinch and squeeze them closed. Damn, who turned up the brightness here?

“You okay?”

“The light is bright,” you supplied a bit groggy.

Behind your eyelids, the intensity of the lights lessened. Your eyes fluttered open carefully, finding that half the room’s lights had been turned off. You breathed a sigh of relief, stomach still in knots. A moment passed before you realized just where you were.

You sat up, immediately falling back down.

“Take it easy.” One of the scientists set a hand on your arm. “We’ll get you out of here as soon as we’ve conducted some fine motor tests.”

You blinked, ears twitching. Twitching. The sensation prompted you to cautiously raise your hand, brushing your fingers over your ear. A pointy Na’vi ear. It flicked back at your touch unconsciously and you let out a breathless laugh. This was weirder than you expected. Not to mention how seamlessly you connected to your avatar. Spider really could not have prepared you more for this.

“Can you wiggle your toes for me?”

You couldn’t say how long those tests took. A few minutes. An hour. It went by too fast but simultaneously dragged on longer than your poor heart could take. You wanted to get up and go go go but you didn’t want to fall over and embarrass yourself. When you got the okay, left alone to change out of the gown into something more comfortable, you made your way to the door.

The door hissed open, letting the bright light from the sun filter in. You squinted and raised your hand, blue as the sky, over your eyes to shield them. Your tail flicked at the minor inconvenience you felt.

“Whoa, check you out.”

You looked to your left. Lo’ak and Spider leaned against the wall of the shack. Kiri sat on the ground with her hands behind her as support. Beside her, Tuk sat cross-legged, picking at grass. No Neteyam, though. He had gone earlier that morning on a hunt with his father.

You smiled, dropping your hand to your side. “Like what you see?”

“You’re like us, now,” Tuk said, dropping her blades of grass.

Kiri smiled up at you. “How do you feel?”

“Weird.” You looked behind you. Your tail had a mind of its own, though you still felt every flick of it as though it were you commanding it. “Really weird.”

“You get used to it.” Spider shrugged and pushed off the wall. He was much shorter than you now, still human.

Lo’ak made a sound. “I can’t believe you can’t use your avatar right now.” His hand smacked at his thigh. “Do you know what we could be doing if you didn’t get hurt?”

“It was your recklessness that got us here.” Kiri looked between the two of them, moving to stand. “Spider’s avatar should take a few days to heal, then we can do the plan.”

Tuk pouted. “This was supposed to be the perfect first impression.”

“I know. I know.” Spider rolled his eyes. “Few more days and then we’ll pretend that there weren't any hiccups.”

You watched Tuk stand. She stood a little taller than Spider, shorter than the three of you. It was weird being taller than her. Well, now only Spider was the only drastically short one of your group. At least, until he got back his avatar.

“Should we get going?” Kiri asked before she took in the state of your hair and gasped. “Your kuru!”

“What about it?” You attempted to look behind you without any luck.

Kiri came up to you, directing you in front of her. “We have our braids around it as protection. Your hair is just wild and it's unguarded.”

“Oh.”

“Here, I’ll braid it. You sit down.”

“Okay.” You lowered into a cross-legged position with Kiri behind you.

She gathered a bunch of your hair, combing her fingers through the roots of it before beginning to twist strands over and around the kuru. The rest of your hair swept over your shoulders, tickling your skin as it did. Given how your avatar’s hair had not been groomed in its time in the amnio tank, it became wildly the length of the kuru. The long hair weighed heavy on your shoulders.

Tuk stood beside you, watching Kiri braid your kuru. You glanced at her out of the corner of your eye, wondering what she could be thinking about. She’d aged to a dreaded thirteen, filled with mischief and still figuring things out. Despite the age when other children sought their independence, she still clung to your ragtag group, not entirely eager to break off to her own friends. Things haven't changed much, you all had to keep a more keen eye on her, given the number of bad ideas she could come up with and act out on, now. Like right now, where her expression twisted in deep thought.

“Can I braid the rest of your hair?” She gestured to her shoulder-length braids.

You turned your head to see, only for Kiri to guide your head back into a straight position. “Don’t move.”

You found no harm in that. “Sure, Tuk. But I’m not sure I want it this long.”

“I can cut it.”

She pulled her knife out. The second she walked toward you, you flinched away from her. As sweet as she was, you didn’t exactly trust a child with a knife by your head.

Kiri forced you to keep still, catching you mid-cry. “Don’t move,” she repeated with an edge, not so much bothered by Tuk’s eager knife-wielding as she was your jerking.

You raised your hand, unable to properly block Tuk’s oncoming knife.

Lo’ak took initiative and intervened. He towered over Tuk and grabbed her wrist. “Are you crazy?”

Tuk pouted, fighting against his hold. as her voice raised in a whine. “I know what I’m doing.”

He took the knife from her. “Let me do it.”

Tuk stomped her foot. “I wanted to do it.”

“You can still braid my hair.” You tried to mediate. It did the job as she pouted off to the side but relented with crossed arms. She stuck her tongue out at Lo’ak. A shiver crawled up your spine from Kiri’s braiding. “You can make them look like yours.”

She smiled. An excited nod and she grabbed the ends of her braids, twisting them between her fingers. “Yeah, we can look like twins.” She spoke to Lo’ak, “don’t cut higher than the shoulders.”

“Sure.” He nodded, hunching down to his knees.

Lo’ak took bundles of your hair away from your face and held it away. He worked away the knife. Already, your head felt lighter without the extra weight. You relaxed, letting the siblings work at your hair.

Spider took his own knife out from where he stood. Since he had nothing better to do, he opted to busy his hands by flipping his knife in hand. You watched him flip and catch it with ease.

He hummed, “you gonna bond with an ikran?”

Your face twisted in horror. “Uh, no. I just got my avatar.”

Kiri agreed. “You need to take baby steps.”

“Yeah, or your avatar will end up like Spider’s.” Lo’ak teased.

Spider rolled his eyes with a nod. They weren’t necessarily wrong.

After Lo’ak had cut the hair on the other side, Tuk took her rightful place by you. Not before Lo’ak returned her knife and she sheathed it. She made some comments about your hair being softer than hers, a result of the amniotic fluid you guessed.

In a moment of excitement, by now half your hair had been braided, Tuk blurted. “you’re going to look just like one of us!”

You half-paid attention, too focused on your tail. It smacked at the ground, batting away a small amount of dirt with each lackluster slap. The sight hypnotized you, drawing you out of your stupor with each flick. You could not describe the sensation of having a tail, let alone one acting on its own. Reaching out, you brushed your fingers over your tail. Goosebumps littered your whole body as you shivered. More sensitive than you would have expected.

Your ears flick at the sudden commotion Lo’ak and Spider made. Looking up from your tail, you watched the duo roll on the ground in a playfight. Another of Spider’s attempts to catch Lo’ak off guard and win a fight against the Na’vi.

“You’re going to like being in your avatar,” Kiri said. Her hands neared the end of your kuru. “Once you get used to this, of course.”

You hummed, tearing your gaze from the boys. “Yeah, I won’t lag behind when we’re out.” You touched your palm, tracing the lines etched in it. It tickled. Your neck began to hurt from holding still for so long. “Too bad Neteyam isn’t here.”

“His fault,” Tuk said, her voice just a touch hurt and uncaring. She wanted her big brother here as much as you did.

Kiri finished the braid, tying a spare thread around the end. She ran her fingers down the braid once, admiring her work and ensuring it was compact. Her tongue clicked, quick to remind Tuk. “You know how he is with dad. He can’t say no.”

“But this is a big deal.” Tuk weaved her hands through your small braids, letting them swing around your face. “Done.”

You set your hands on the ground and pushed yourself to a stand. Your body swayed momentarily, supported by Kiri’s hands on your back. You thanked her, still getting used to the extra weight to balance. Then, you turned away and shrugged. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

Kiri would not buy it. She stepped around you to face you with her hands on her hips, head cocked in disbelief. “Don’t downplay this. Your first time in your avatar is important to you. So, it’s important to us.”

You relented, knowing better than to deny the obvious. Instead, you smiled and took her comment to heart. “Thanks.”

Kiri smiled back, nodding once in finality.

“Are you guys ready to go?” Lo’ak called back, getting off the ground.

Spider also pushed off the ground. Both of them were covered in dirt. “Yeah, we need to get going before the eclipse.”

Kiri glanced back your way. You nodded. “I’m ready.”

“Finally.” Lo’ak took the lead, waving his hand for you all to follow. “Don’t fall behind.”

He took off running. You followed, all laughing at your wobbly run. Despite his tease, Lo’ak never strayed far. The group of you dodged and weaved around humans and avatars alike until you reached the edge of the human camp. Then, the real fun began. Daring across the forest for the first time as a Na’vi. It was exhilarating.

Tuk, ever the youngest, called out to you guys as you ran across treetops. “Wait up!”

You leaped across a gap between trees, laughing loudly while your body buzzed with adrenaline. This was something you could get used to.

+:+:+:+:+:+

For the fifth time, you skidded to a halt, bending at the waist while your shoulders rose and fell rapidly. Taking big, deep breaths, you now understood why the scientists wanted you to take it easy. Not only did you stumble and nearly crash into anything and everything, but you also dragged the trip on longer than it needed to be.

Spider caught your hunched form out of the corner of his eye, hands on your knees and panting like an animal. “Hold up,” he called up ahead.

Lo’ak groaned, grabbing an overhead branch as he turned around. “Really? We’re going to get in trouble if we’re late. We’re almost there.”

“Don’t wait up.” You waved your hand dismissively, only for it to fall back to your side. “I’m good.”

The group took the time to wait five minutes, nonetheless.

By the time you made it to Hometree, the village had been gathered for mealtime. Heads turned in your direction, some Na’vi greeting you. They were certainly kinder than other times you’d come by. As you walked past to find the rest of the Sullys, you leaned down to Spider and spoke in a hushed whisper.

“This is weird.”

He shrugged. “Told you they treat you differently when you’re in an avatar.”

You stood straight and did your best to ignore the stares to the back of your head.

Thankfully, it didn’t take long to find the family. Neytiri and Jake smiled from where they sat, chatting amongst themselves while Neteyam lent them an ear, preparing the meal. Tuk ran ahead of you, crying about how starved she was. Lo’ak and Kiri soon sat, you and Spider sitting farthest.

“You’re late,” Neytiri said.

Lo’ak nodded his head in your direction. “A certain avatar lagged behind.”

Neteyam looked up from beside his mother. The Na’vi’s eyes widened, taking you in. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. His tail swished behind him. You merely smiled from across the fire. When he did find the courage to speak, his father beat him to the punch.

“You look different.” He smiled, looking you in the eye. It felt weird to be at eye level with him, too used to him towering over you. “How’s your first run?”

“I think I’m handling it okay.”

Spider laughed. “No way. You ran like a baby using their legs for the first time.”

“It was for the first time,” Kiri replied and shook her head. “We probably shouldn’t have rushed out.”

Jake raised his brow. “That bad, huh?”

Plates were passed around. Tuk dug into her food while you all talked. No doubt this was from today’s hunt. While you ate, Spider sat back and talked with Lo’ak and Kiri.

“You will learn,” Neytiri had told you between her own mouthfuls. “Jake had been no better.”

“And that’s without the years of training.” Jake shook his head. “Those were the days.”

After eating, you split off with Neteyam to catch up. The others understood for the most part to not follow, distracting Tuk before she could tag along.

For the most part, you walked normally. Without the pressure of running, you could balance yourself correctly. Neteyam was quiet, never moving past your side, letting you set the pace. You reached a section of Hometree untouched, quiet, and tucked away from the rest of the clan. When you stopped, Neteyam looked your way.

“Are you tired?”

“No.” You shook your head, tickled by the concern he displayed. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“Just checking.” He followed your lead and sat down beside you, overlooking the view of Pandora. His tail flicked patiently. “So, you think about what you want to do, now that you have an avatar?”

“Honestly-” You leaned back on your hands, humming in thought. “I never thought this far. It didn’t seem like this would ever happen. I mean, I had to wait five years.”

“Yeah.” Neteyam looked away. “We can figure it out on the way. There’s so much you’ll be able to do now that you have a kuru.”

“I guess.” You reached behind you, bringing your kuru braid forward. The tendrils of nerves opened, wiggling in the open air. It was an out-of-body experience, watching nerves that belonged to you wriggle in the air, feeling the sensation wave at nothing and near tasting the air deep in your nervous system, but unable to believe this was yours. You set the braid aside. “First, I have to master how to run. Can’t get anywhere around here by just walking.”

“We’ll build your stamina.” He smiled and nudged your arm with his elbow. “Then, we’ll get you an ikran.”

You grimaced. “Not for a while, I hope.”

“Certainly.” Neteyam grew quiet again. You turned to look at him, finding him already staring at you. His face was caught in a mesh of wonder and awe. He furrowed his brows. “Who did your hair?”

You blinked, thinking of the braids. “Tuk.”

“Tuk cut your hair?”

Oh. “No, that was Lo’ak.” You cringed, thinking how close Tuk was to committing to the act. “She almost did. Why is it bad?”

He laughed shortly. “It’s uneven.”

“How should I know?”

“Here.” Neteyam got up, moving to get behind you. “I’ll fix it.”

You realized he was undoing your braids in order to do so. “Tuk won’t like you ruining her hard work.”

He hummed. “She won’t know.”

“She’ll know.”

Neteyam’s fingers weaved through your tresses, unwinding them. Loose waves of hair cascaded around your face. Tingles crawled up your spine from the care and gentleness of his hands. You may have even closed your eyes to fully take in the sensation.

You twisted the braid of your kuru as he held your hair. His knife hissed against its sheath, your rather sensitive ears twitched at the sound. Inhaling deeply, you relaxed your shoulders. You trusted Neteyam, more than Lo’ak or Tuk, to cut your hair.

Truthfully, Lo’ak had done a moderately good job cutting your hair on the spot. Neteyam did not have much to work with, only fixing the small, unnoticeable imperfections in your hair. You wondered if it was an excuse to just touch your new, soft hair. His siblings seemed to love your hair.

“There.” Neteyam put away his knife. “Now, it looks even.”

You let out a half-hearted puff of air. It didn’t seem like that big of an issue. “Thanks.”

You heard the smile in his response. “You’re welcome.”

He took his time putting your hair into small braids similar to Tuk’s. With each new bunch of hair gathered, his knuckles would brush along your neck. Pinching your fingers over the braid of your kuru, you fought against the goosebumps that crawled along your skin. A rhythmic smack hit the ground, constant and unwavering. Out of the corner of your eye, you realized it was your tail, not Neteyam’s. It gave away your flush of emotions.

Your ears twitched and you forced another even breath, looking at the orange sky above.

Eclipse approached soon. Far in the distance, you spotted the flapping wings of wild ikran, flying as a group to another perch. Pandora, as much as you didn’t belong here, was your home. You could not imagine trading it for Earth, which you heard from Norm looked nothing like this. Pollution and greed had stripped away the beauty it once had, he said, but it had nothing compared to this moon light-years away. You agreed with his sentiment.

Soft puffs of air fanned the baby hairs on the back of your neck. You contained your shivers, letting your eyes flutter closed. His fingers were nimble, expert in the craft. Body heat permeated from him onto your back, the proximity throwing your heart to the ikrans. Your tail smacked at the ground playfully, betraying the excitement in you despite your trying to quell it. Neither of you spoke of it.

When all was said and done, Neteyam returned to your side. You let go of your kuru and run your hands through your hair, appreciating the work done by him. This time, your tail swayed anxiously as you looked him in the eye.

“Does it look okay now?”

His eyes roamed from your hair to your face. He was quiet, the sunset’s reflection casting a warm glow over his blue skin. A small smile broke onto his face and he nodded. “You look perfect.”

You returned the smile. Your tail once again whipped to and fro in excitement from the flattery. Neteyam’s smile grew, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a way you found endearing. Neither of you said anything, turning away at the same time to face forward. The light of day retreated over the horizon.

“Eclipse is bound.” Neteyam pushed off the ground with a grunt, standing on his feet. He extended his hand down to you. “Come on. Can't let you stay out too late in your avatar.”

You agreed and took his hand. With little effort, he managed to pull you onto your feet. In the five years you’ve waited for your avatar to grow, Neteyam gained muscle fit for his physique. The twenty-year-old warrior still stood taller than you, much like his father, but the height difference was not as drastic in your avatar.

On your way down the Hometree, you bumped into Kiri.

Neteyam regarded her. “Have you seen Spider-”

“He went back to the camp a while ago.” She looked between you two. “Better get going if you don’t want to be out late.”

“Right.” He nodded to her. “Thanks.”

You waved goodbye to Kiri and walked off with Neteyam.

Sticking to the high ground, you both made your way back to camp. The journey was quiet, apart from shared looks and quiet laughter, for no other reason than you both feeling a strange high. You returned to camp safely and sound as Neteyam walked up with you to the avatar sleeping quarters. Eclipse had just encased the land in darkness and outdoor lights illuminated the camp’s shacks. You stopped by your building, turning to him with a hand raised.

“I can walk the rest on my own.”

He smiled. “Can you?”

You rolled your eyes, unable to contain your own smile. You gently pushed at his shoulder. “Go. Or, will you get lost?”

He accepted your teasing with a flick of his tail. “I think I know my way.”

“Alright then.” Your expression softened. You had to stop or else you’d never let him leave. “Goodnight, Nete.”

His smile widened. “Goodnight.”

You waved him off before walking up the steps and into the shack.

Some avatars were still up. Others sound asleep. You made your way to the unclaimed hammock, reserved for your avatar, and climbed into it. Your smile remained even as you closed your eyes.

When you woke up in the link bed, moments passed before the hood rose and you could sit up. Max looked from you to the screen. “Was being an avatar scary like you expected?”

You shook your head, smiling again. “It was weird, but I liked it.”

Norm walked into the room. “Yeah, and next time, don’t stay out late without a head’s up. All avatars have to be accounted for.”

“I’ll remember that.”

You left after bidding them goodnight, heading to your sleeping quarters. For the rest of the night, you lay there, touching the base of your skull. You could feel it, the kuru, like a phantom. Turning onto your side, you closed your eyes.

Today was a good day.

#neteyam x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam imagine #neteyam fanfiction #avatar x reader

2K notes · View notes

archonsabyss · 3 months

Text

╰─..✶. [ Carnal Urges ]

❒ pairing: wriothesley x fem!reader

❒ genre: smut [nsfw 18+] minors do not interact!!!

❒ warnings: involves the topic of blood play / kink? / drinking, idk honestly! not a vampire au!

❒ word count: 1.3k

─❒ authors note: pls don't judge my smut writing abilities. it's still not my forte but i tried lol.

When rationality and any sense thereof is trampled by the irrepressible desire that consumes him, Wriothesley's hooded eyes widen in shock as he slowly pulls back, shifting his entire weight onto his knees positioned on either side of your body. He swipes his tongue across his bottom lip, licking away at the red substance prickling from a minor wound while arching an incredulous brow that makes you avert your gaze and tightly press your lips together to conceal your amusement.

"Sorry," You muttered insincerely.

"Sorry?" He repeats, not buying into your feeble attempt at an apology as tension tightens, coiling in your stomach.

Wriothesley seizes your chin with his thumb and index finger, compelling you to meet his gaze directly, his tongue glides over his pointed fangs, eliminating the final traces of blood, and your eyes are inevitably captivated by the sight.

The tension is palpable as he swiftly narrows the distance between you once again, pressing your back flat into the mattress. With the broadness of his upper body, he effortlessly parts your legs until his face hovers mere centimetres above yours and his nose repeatedly brushes against yours. His warm breath cascades across your face, seemingly infusing life into your mouth.

You're so undeniably turned on but Wriothesley persists in teasing you to the brink of your breaking point, pulling at every string and pressing every button within his reach. Your patience has its limits, and it doesn't help that he's close but not as close as he could be.

"Wriothesley" You present a subservient plea, aware that it's a step closer to unleashing his primal instincts into a fervent frenzy, ready to accept your gracefully extended offer. It proves effective as his breath quickens at such a rapid speed that you barely have time to process when his face draws nearer and his lips aggressively attach to yours open-mouthed and wet.

A string of inebriated and unintelligible curses escapes his crude mouth between kisses, they're muted by the suction on your tongue and the pressure of his calloused hands against your skin.

"Such a little minx" He whispers hoarsely into your ear, his teeth lightly grazing the tip.

He grants you no time to process or respond to his statement, as he attaches his mouth to the junction between your acromioclavicular joint and your neck and laps at the skin. His tongue glides back and forth in repetitive motions, akin to a paintbrush caressing a canvas, and left in place of its stroke is an array of beauty, forming an artistry of sensations.

Your skin flushes as he tantalizes and prepares you until seizing the perfect moment to immerse you in pleasure, a sensation only he could provide. His teeth pierce your shoulder deep enough to draw blood, and your cry of pain echoes off the walls of your room at the sudden intrusion. Your body writhes beneath him, your palms pressing into his shoulder blades, nails digging without restraint. There's a perverse kind of pleasure that comes with the pain and the relentless intensity of his rhythmic thrusts. It's overwhelming but you find yourself desperate for more.

"Wriothesley," You whimper as tears trail down your face, but his only response is a sudden forceful thrust without warning. His cock sinks all the way inside you and your cunt clenches pathetically around him.

Blood caresses his tongue, leaving behind a red marking in the shape of a kiss as he pulls away. You gaze up at him in a hazy daze, your eyes fixating on the blood that coats his lips.

Wriothesley wraps a hand around your throat and squeezes, and your eyes nearly roll back as he cleans his mouth of blood with his tongue. With his other hand not occupied by your neck, he smears the blood across your skin with his thumb and grins.

"Princess..." He drawls, yet amidst your fog of haze you're unable to coherently respond, and he's smothered in arousal and blinded by the urge to ravish you much the same.

Wriothesley rolls his hips against yours and you gasp, at the way his cock invades your walls to its breaking point. He shifts, slowly rubbing himself teasingly and you can't constrain the noises that slip out of your mouth when he applies more pressure to his hold on your neck, even as you clutch the sheets, it becomes impossible to endure his increasingly intense, animalistic rhythm.

"You drive me beyond the brink of insanity" Just like that, his mouth plummets and recaptures yours as he draws his hips back until just the tip of his cock brushes your cunt, and then it drives right back in with a force unlike before; in fact, it's more powerful. You feel like your back could snap at any moment.

His anger, love, frustration, and desperation all seeped into the snapping motion of his hips.

Moans weave a symphony of pleasure, his heavy breaths setting the bass, while the sound of skin slapping adds the final embellishments.

You grip onto his back as the air is knocked from your lungs, barely making its way past your throat as a wave of unrefined pleasure slashes through you. Wriothesley reaches down to your clit and teases it with a devilish smirk, applying just a tad bit more pressure to your neck before he thrusts into you one final time.

You come with a shriek, and Wriothesley groans, his orgasm follows shortly.

"That's my Good Girl" Warmth fills your insides.

“Fuck, I must confess, witnessing you in such a state is always a fucking delight. It never fails to captivate me," He remarks, releasing your throat and you gasp for air with a series of hacking coughs.

He swiftly pulls out and gets off you. He helps you sit up and gently begins to pat your back.

The darkness in his eyes fades temporarily, but there's no doubt it will return once he's reassured you are okay.

"You okay?" He asks, scooping you into his arms and shifting back to rest against the headboard with you nestled between his legs.

Exhausted, your head falls back against his chest, but you manage a weak nod and affirm with a whispered 'yes'.

Now that the peak of adrenaline subsides, you start to feel the aftermath of your activities and your shoulder aches, the puncture wound from his fangs causing discomfort.

Wriothesley swallows harshly in acknowledgment. He moves out from behind you and doesn't bother to dress as he swiftly heads to the bathroom, returning with two wet cloths and a small aid kit, he tends to his intentional marking on your shoulder and the mess he's created between your legs. Throughout the entire process, he steals glances at you with pleading eyes, and you feign ignorance of what he silently requests.

"Do you think you can go again?"

"No," You promptly reject without any hesitation.

"I go back to work the day after tomorrow. Please" He implores.

"No"

"I'll be gentle"

"No, you won't" You refute knowingly.

"Princess" Seductively, he beckons, moving closer, but you avert your gaze as he attempts to woo you with a kiss.

"Not happening, my love"

"You were begging for it earlier" He pouts.

"Give me an hour and then you can go on" You conceded, finding it amusing how readily you succumbed. It wasn't fatigue or reluctance on your part, but rather your body struggling to match the pace of your desires. Wriothesley's approach to intimacy drained you more than you had anticipated. It always did.

Softly cradling his cheek, you guided his face towards yours, bestowing a sweet kiss. Wriothesley smiled within the embrace, his eyes meeting yours as they both opened simultaneously.

"I love you," He whispered tenderly, his thumb gently stroking your thigh and you replied with a reflection of his affection, "I love you more,"

☣ copyright @archonsabyss all rights reserved // do not copy; steal; plagiarize; reword or repost my works to any other platform! No translations!! All credits to original owners of characters/anime/pictures that are not my own!

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kpopfanfictrash · 1 year

Text

Love to Hate (Extra Scene II: Jungkook’s POV)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Genre: Fuck Buddies / Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Synopsis: Born with a silver spoon in your mouth, you've done your best to rid yourself of the taste since you were old enough to walk. Occasionally though, your mother manages to rope you into an obligatory function – or a blind date with playboy billionaire, Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook stands for everything you loathe about the world you left behind, but you can’t deny the spark of attraction between you. Intrigued by the promise of mutual satisfaction, you agree to one night in bed… and quickly realize you’re in far, far deeper than you ever intended.

Author’s Note: This scene takes place during Chapter 5 of Love to Hate and is told from Jungkook’s point of view. PLEASE READ THE ENTIRE STORY BEFORE READING THIS SCENE (otherwise there will be spoilers lol).

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 6,820

This is wrong.

It’s all Jungkook can think, seated beside Giselle on his sofa, right thumb tracing the rim of his whiskey glass. Giselle’s thigh is pressed to his in clear invitation, her gaze lingering pointedly on his mouth. Were Jungkook any other man, he’d be clearly focused on the woman beside him.

Jungkook is not someone else, though. Instead, he thinks of you.

Where you are, what you’re doing and why you didn’t respond to the last message he sent. Slowly, Jungkook closes his eyes and wills away your presence. It’s unfair, being seated beside someone else and still thinking of you.

When Jungkook’s eyes reopen, Giselle watches with some bemusement. Forcing his features to relax, Jungkook tries to refocus. You’ve only slept together four times – three if you don’t count the phone sex, which Jungkook does – so he shouldn’t be thinking of you as often as he does. Granted, even three times is a lot for someone whose limit is one.

You seemed genuine though, in your desire for no-strings attached sex, and so, Jungkook acted out of character and gave you his number. His real number.

Lifting his glass of whiskey to his lips, Jungkook takes a long sip. After two hours of no response, he placed his phone on the counter and turned it to vibrate. It seems whatever interest you had in him has waned – a fact Jungkook is trying not to let drive him crazy. For the first time in a long time, he doesn’t know what someone is thinking and ironically, you’re the one person he wants to understand.

When he exhales again, Giselle’s lips twitch. “Are you feeling alright?” she asks, reaching out to rub Jungkook’s thigh. “Want me to get you some water?”

Stiffening, Jungkook fights the urge to push her hand aside. It’s not Giselle’s fault he’s thinking of another woman. Not her fault that she (rightfully) assumed he invited her over to get to know her better. More intimately.

Suddenly feeling exhausted, Jungkook leans back and lets her hand fall to the side. “I’m okay,” he says, managing a smile. “Thank you, though.”

Giselle gives him a quizzical look. Head tilted, long, dark hair cascades down her back. “Okay. I had fun tonight,” she says, tactfully changing the subject. “It was good of your family to donate so much to a worthy cause.”

“Yeah.” Hiding a grimace, Jungkook takes a large sip of his whiskey. “He’s a regular bleeding heart, my father.”

A flicker of something – annoyance, perhaps – crosses Giselle’s features, although she schools them quickly to neutrality. A practiced technique – he should know. Jungkook doesn’t blame her for feeling annoyed. He knows he’s being an ass. It’s not Giselle’s fault Jungkook invited her over and now regrets it.

He was planning to ask you to the dinner tonight.

You would’ve said no – you don’t strike Jungkook as the function type unless it’s for Clean Ocean – but he would’ve had fun with you at his side. You could’ve joined in on the mocking, unlike Giselle, who at best managed a loud spurt of laughter.

Maybe Jungkook is being too cynical. Tonight’s dinner was for a great cause, but that’s just the problem. Many families in the room caused the issues these dinners are for and could easily stop them with a few business choices. Instead, they donate a couple thousand dollars, claim the return on their taxes and pat themselves on the back for a job well-done.

Tonight was merely an opportunity for wealthy people to spend money and feel self-important; to assuage the guilt which comes from hoarding wealth. Jungkook remains unimpressed that his father dropped fifty thousand when his net worth is several million times that.

You would’ve been a breath of sincerity in that stuffy ballroom. Jungkook planned to ask you until his father pulled him aside and demanded he take Giselle. Apparently, her father owns an important packaging company and her father wanted Giselle to be taken care of.

Jungkook couldn’t help but wonder at her father’s intentions, since his reputation wasn’t exactly a secret. Still, he didn’t actually plan on sleeping with Giselle until you ditched him, which probably says more about him than about her. If Jungkook could bury his face in his hands right now, he would. Honestly, his reaction to your silent treatment took even him by surprise.

Disappointment, he expected – there’s no denying the chemistry between you – but this was accompanied by embarrassment and an odd sense of uncertainty. Jungkook has always known where he stood with previous flings. The few times he’s deigned to call someone twice, they’ve always responded.

Jungkook has never really cared about being ignored but right now, he does. He finds he cares a lot and maybe that’s why he agreed when Giselle asked to see his place. Jungkook knew what she wanted but found he didn’t care. A part of him needed it; needed to prove to himself he was still desirable – and that your rejection didn’t sting as much as it had.

This thing between you is supposed to be casual. You’d said that a few times and if so, Jungkook should be comfortable sleeping with another person. Earlier, he did some fast math and realized the last time he slept with someone else was weeks ago.

There were women after your first date, of course. Jungkook can admit when he’s wrong and he truly thought you’d break down and call within a week or so. When you didn’t, he buried himself in a long line of women – none of whom soothed the craving you sparked that first night.

He was on his tenth ‘date’ when you called, putting him out of his misery. Since that night – Jungkook’s stomach sinks again – he’s slept with a grand total of one woman. An experience so subpar, Jungkook promptly forgot other people existed. It wasn’t as though he dated for anything other than sex and with you on the table, no one else compared.

So, yeah. Maybe Jungkook said yes to Giselle to prove he doesn’t have feelings for you. Because if Jungkook does have feelings, he’s broken your rules and the moment you realize – because surely, you will – this thing between you will end. It’s as simple as that.

Except now, his gamble has backfired and Jungkook knows he can’t go through with it. Giselle’s hand on his thigh is all wrong, as is the heat he can feel from her body. The thought of moving to his bedroom, of removing her clothes – Jungkook interrupts the thought with a flinch.

And then he stills, realizing what he’s done. He – Jeon Jungkook – flinched at the thought of casual sex. Panic claws up his throat and abruptly, Jungkook pushes himself to stand.

“I think I’m done with the whiskey,” he blurts. “Want wine?”

“Sure.” Giselle sits back, puzzled as he leaves.

Striding fast into his kitchen, Jungkook drags a hand through his styled hair. Of course, Giselle is confused – who wouldn’t be with all his mixed signals? Teeth gritted, Jungkook opens his cabinet in search of red wine. One glass, and then he’ll send Giselle home. Maybe he can lie and say he’s had too much to drink.

Locating glasses and an opener, Jungkook sets these aside to stare at the bottle. He should tell Giselle to go but in a nice way. She didn’t do anything wrong; there’s no need for anyone else to be hurt tonight.

Across the counter though, he sees his phone screen brighten. Frowning, Jungkook reaches out as words fill the screen – Front Desk.

“Hello?” he says, lifting the phone to his ear.

“Mr. Jeon?” His doorman, George. “I hope you’re having a pleasant evening.”

“I – uh. Yeah.” Jungkook glances furtively at Giselle. “I am. Is something wrong?”

“On the contrary. I just wanted to call and tell you Miss Y/L/N is on her way up.”

George continues to speak, but an incessant buzzing drowns out all other thoughts. Dimly, Jungkook recalls adding your name to the guest list a few weeks ago. Dread fills his stomach as the light above his elevator brightens.

“Thanks,” Jungkook manages to say, his voice strangled. “I have to… go.”

George hangs up as the elevator dings. The next few moments seem to happen in slow motion, the doors sliding open to reveal you inside. When you see Jungkook, your entire face brightens, and he feels faintly sick at the prospect of what’s to come.

Seeing this, your expression falters as you step inside. Your gaze lowers to the wine glasses on the counter and you visibly relax, assuming one is for you.

“I – hi,” you say, walking forward. “Sorry, I just realized I should’ve called. I mean, I responded to your DM, but I – oh.”

That tiny oh is barely audible, but Jungkook feels the word like a gunshot.

Feet slowing, your gaze snags on Giselle in his living room. To make things worse, Giselle has made herself comfortable and is now watching you with a pitying glance. Jungkook can practically see the steam rise from your ears as you piece things together.

Words in his throat battle, clambering over one another – this isn’t what it looks like, I was about to send her home – but none of them wins.

“Ah.” Wobbling slightly, you step backwards. “I’m, well, shit – I’m so sorry,” you say, your voice sounding thick. “I didn’t realize. I’ll leave,” you blurt, jabbing the button and Jungkook realizes too late you’ve stepped into the elevator. “Ignore me – ignore this, I –”

The elevator doors shut, and Jungkook realizes he’s moved all the way around the counter.

From behind him, Giselle clears her throat. “Who was that?”

Ignoring this, Jungkook stuffs his feet into discarded loafers. Whirling around, he grabs his keys and catches sight of himself in the mirror – he looks wild, hair sticking up where he ran his hands through it.

“Giselle, I’m sorry,” he says, pressing the elevator button. “You should go. Now. Please, I – I’m sorry. My driver can take you home.”

Jungkook looks up long enough to see Giselle’s shocked expression. Then he turns, slamming the button with renewed enthusiasm, as though this might make it come faster. After a long moment, Giselle scoffs and gathers her things.

“Whatever,” she huffs, and Jungkook hears her move closer. “I wasn’t interested in you, anyways. I’m sure my father will be angry, though.”

Jungkook barely registers the threat, too concentrated on the memory of your stricken face. Opening his phone, he frantically scans his messages. You said you responded, but he never –

Fingers paused, Jungkook sees the Instagram notification. Opening the thread, he sees a time stamp from roughly around the same time he arrived home.

Y/N: on my way [12:16 AM]

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

Whirling around, Jungkook grabs Giselle’s coat from a hook and hands it over. Ignoring her look of surprise, Jungkook ushers her into the elevator the moment it arrives. Pressing the buttons for both garage and lobby, he rides until they reach his car. Taking his driver aside, Jungkook instructs him to bring Giselle wherever she needs to go.

Jungkook sees Giselle’s eyes light up at his words and resigns himself to a very expensive gas bill tomorrow. Returning to the elevator, Jungkook rides the remaining floors to the lobby alone. As soon as the doors open, he bursts free and comes to a stop.

Spotting you across the lobby, Jungkook resumes motion. “Y/N!” he calls, rushing forward. “Wait!”

Startled, you look up and visibly wobble. Redoubling his speed, Jungkook makes it across his lobby in record time.

“Don’t call a cab,” he begs, coming to a stop and grabbing your phone.

Incensed, your eyes narrow as you try to take it back. Jungkook holds it aloft in a moment of breathtaking immaturity, struggling to come up with what to do next.

“Furst – first of all,” you huff, jumping a little. “This isn’t the 1950’s. No one ‘calls a cab’ anymore. Second” – you lunge, wildly missing the phone – “you have a girl in your apartment. I’m not trying to join in or watch if that’s what you’re hoping.”

The absurdity of this statement makes Jungkook’s lips twitch – something he instantly tampers when you scowl back. Stepping away from him, you sway and Jungkook’s thoughts are eclipsed by the realization you’re drunk.

Or – at the very least, tipsy. Scowl deepening, you stare at his lips and Jungkook is having a hard time not being a caveman and saying it’s too late to go home.

“That’s not what I’m thinking,” he says, a bit lamely.

Stoic, you hold out your hand. “My phone, please.”

This time, Jungkook hands it over. He didn’t mean to be an ass, but the thought of you leaving without him apologizing makes his innards twist. Jungkook gets the feeling if you go now, you might never come back.

“Please stay,” he insists, widening his eyes. “I already asked my driver to take Giselle home. She should be gone by now.”

“Giselle,” you scoff. “Wow, sure. My mom would love that name.”

Feeling as though he’s missed something important, Jungkook frowns. “Uh, okay. Do you want to come back up?”

Scowling, you take an immediate step backwards and wobble again. Jungkook lunges forward, trying to help but you wave him off.

“Why would I go back upstairs with you?” you demand. “You invited me to come over and then, what – you forgot?”

“No,” Jungkook says. “I invited you over and you didn’t respond for two hours! When my date asked if we could get a drink, I –”

“You were on a date?”

Maybe it’s Jungkook’s imagination, but you seem a bit stricken. He hesitates, and far be it from him to assume, but something about your expression makes him think… possibly you don’t like the idea of Jungkook with someone else.

Heart pounding, he forces himself to stay calm. You’ve been out drinking. You came all the way over to his apartment, only to be turned down in the worst fashion. Likely, whatever comes out of your mouth next can’t be trusted.

“It was a charity thing,” Jungkook says instead. “My dad paid for two plates. Y/N…” He pauses, debating how to put this before asking, “Are you drunk?”

“I had fun – a few drinks,” you huff, and Jungkook suspects it was significantly more. “But if Giselle was your date, why were you texting me?”

“You messaged me first,” he reminds you. “So, I responded. And yeah, I would’ve preferred seeing you, but you didn’t respond,” he adds, his frustration growing. Roughly, Jungkook shoves a hand through his hair. “When Giselle asked to see my apartment, I –”

“See your apartment.” A snort. “Nice.”

Limply, Jungkook lets his hand fall. “Are you seriously upset I was planning to sleep with someone else?” he asks. “Because these are your rules, Y/N.”

“Rules you agreed to. Rules I haven’t heard you offer to change,” you challenge.

Gritting his teeth, Jungkook forces himself to stay silent because he’s not sure what words might come out of his mouth. Lunacy might urge him to change the rules right here and now, and end up looking like a fool when you tell him no.

Jungkook isn’t sure what you want from him because clearly, you don’t want more than sex. In a warped way, your reaction to him with Giselle has given Jungkook some sort of confidence about your true feelings. Obviously, you didn’t like seeing him with another woman.

Jungkook wishes you would simply say that you’re jealous because then he could explain. Then he could tell you he was about to send her home, that he wanted to–

Abruptly, Jungkook stops this thought in its tracks. That he wanted to what? Call you? Beg you to come over? Realistically, Jungkook wouldn’t have done either because deep down, he’s a coward. Jungkook agreed to your terms because he’s terrified of hearing someone say the word no.

“Yeah,” he allows. “I guess you’re right.”

“And I’m not upset about that,” you add hotly. “I don’t care if you sleep with someone else, but I do care that you thought you could squeeze us in back-to-back! I –”

The sound of your cell phone cuts through the lobby.

Jungkook realizes you’ve been standing by the door, arguing for the better part of ten minutes. Luckily, no one has entered the building at such a late hour. His housing association is probably writing a strongly worded email to him as you speak.

“Hello?” you say, turning as you answer the phone.

“Y/N?”

Curious, Jungkook peers over your shoulder. Whoever is on the other end is loud, yelling to be heard over the background music. Jungkook can only catch bits and pieces of what’s being said.

“Thank the… happening… Topaz?”

Jungkook frowns, recognizing the name of a club by the beach.

“I, uh – no,” you say, twisting further. Jungkook nearly growls when you stumble – right arm shooting out, he grasps your wrist to keep you upright. “I left, actually,” you add, your voice high-pitched and strange.

Possibly because your back presses to Jungkook’s front, allowing him to feel the supple curves of your body. He forces himself to concentrate on your conversation, close enough to now hear the man on the other end.

“You left?” says the speaker, sounding shocked.

In the reflection of the window, you wince. “Um, yes,” you say, lowering your voice. “Like twenty minutes ago?"

"Who did you leave with? That guy you were grinding with on the dance floor?”

Without meaning to, Jungkook’s grip tightens. You were grinding with someone at Topaz earlier tonight. Now, your sudden silence makes sense and Jungkook is having a hard time separating the then from now. Anger flares, hot and sudden – although it disappears just as quickly when he sees your face.

It’s the same expression Jungkook wore when you came to his place and saw Giselle. Stomach twisting, he wonders if you’ve had a similar night to his. Both of you sought someone else, only to end up in each other’s arms.

“No,” you hiss, unaware of Jungkook’s inner turmoil. “I, um, left to…”

Deciding enough is enough, Jungkook reaches out to pluck the phone from your hand. Gasping, you turn around, but Jungkook ignores you. Glancing at the screen, he sees the name Hoseok before lifting the phone to his ear.

“She’s with me, Hoseok,” he says. Turning away, he ignores your futile attempts to get the phone back.

“Is this… Jungkook?”

“Yeah, this is Jungkook.”

Hoseok’s tone is suspicious, and Jungkook doesn’t blame him. Hell, he’d be skeptical of any man answering your phone, and he’s only known you a couple of months. Based on his research, Jungkook knows you and Hoseok have been friends for years and started Clean Ocean together.

“Okay,” says Hoseok, recovering quickly. “Look, I don’t really know you, and everything I have heard isn’t that great, but –”

“She’s safe here,” Jungkook interrupts, interjecting as much sincerity as he can muster. “I promise.”

Hoseok is silent, weighing his options and Jungkook feels oddly nervous. Eventually, Hoseok exhales and a weight falls from Jungkook’s shoulders.

“Fine,” Hoseok says, speaking loudly to be heard over the music. “Y/N was pounding margaritas and apparently took some tequila shots with Seokjin, so – I’LL DEAL WITH YOU LATER,” he yells, presumably to Seokjin. “Anyways, I’ll be tracking Y/N’s phone, so she better make it home in one piece tomorrow.”

Lips pressed together, Jungkook suppresses the urge to make a joke about One Piece. “She will,” he says instead. “I swear.”

“Cool.” Hoseok sounds distracted. “Tell Y/N to drink water. Seokjin, I’m coming, you ridiculous land mass –”

The phone call suddenly ends, leaving Jungkook with a dial tone. Placidly, he hands over your phone and ignores your cold fury.

“Thanks,” you huff, opening an app. “I’m just going to call myself a Lyft, and –”

Jungkook’s stomach drops. He can’t have gone through all that only for you to leave. “Stay,” he blurts before he can think of an argument. “Please.”

You look up, seeming prepared to argue but instead, slowly soften. Jungkook has no idea what’s written on his face but whatever it is gives you pause.

“Fine,” you mutter after a moment. “But just for one glass of water.”

Not wanting to press his luck, Jungkook nods and follows you across the lobby. Heart soaring, he treads in your footsteps towards the elevators. Behind the front desk, George shakes his head, clearly on your side and Jungkook makes a mental note to bring him coffee tomorrow.

Walking into the elevator, you step sideways as the doors shut. Casually, you lean against the wall and the silence between you only lengthens. Jungkook turns to face you, one ankle crossed leisurely over the other. Several times, your gaze darts to him, although you always look back.

Hiding a smile, Jungkook folds his arms across his chest.

Eventually, you sigh and speak first. “I’m sorry,” you say, not meeting his gaze. “I was… surprised when I got here and found someone else, and I – well, yeah.” You pause. “We said we’d keep this casual.”

Jungkook chooses to stay silent, wondering what else you have to say.

“Like I said,” you add, peering at your shoes. “We agreed to sleep with other people.”

You sound as though you’re convincing yourself. Pushing himself from the wall, Jungkook strides forward and comes to a stop before you. You look up, breath quickening when your gazes meet. It satisfies a base, brutish part of Jungkook to know you’re as affected by him as he is by you.

When you lean in, Jungkook stiffens but he needn’t have worried. You don’t touch him – instead, you softly inhale and somehow, this affects Jungkook more than if your lips had been involved.

“Sorry,” you blurt, and look up. “You just… smell good, that’s all. Better than – well.” Trying to regain yourself, you wince. “Never mind.”

Jungkook has never met someone able to get under his skin as easily as you do. One second, he feels in control and then next, you’ve undone him with barely a word. The worst part is you don’t seem to realize the tremendous power you wield.

When you take a step backwards, Jungkook’s composure snaps.

Reaching out, he encircles your wrist. “Better than the guy you were dancing with?” he asks, stepping forward and pressing you against the mirror.

You suck in a breath, and he feels your body melt. This fact fills him with pride, knowing someone like you trusts Jungkook with any part of your life. Gently, his thumb skims the inside of your wrist.

“Maybe,” you whisper, gaze lidded.

Jungkook’s upper lip twitches. “Was he not enough for you princess?” he rasps, returning to the familiar. “Did you remember halfway I’m the only one who can make you come as hard as I can?”

A defiant gleam enters your eye. “He was fine.”

His brow cocks. “Fine?”

“More than fine.”

“What happened to fine?”

You huff. “I wouldn’t get cocky. I can’t help but notice you got rid of what’s-her-face the second I came over.”

You’re right about that, and Jungkook doesn’t care. Throwing caution to the wind, he moves closer. “I’m not ashamed of it,” he says softly. “You’re the sweetest fuck I’ve ever had and you deserve to know that. Not tonight, though,” he adds, saying it out loud. “Not when you’re drunk and I’m sober.”

The elevator dings as the doors slide open behind him. Jungkook pulls himself together enough to step aside. Straightening his jacket, he enters the hall and removes his coat and shoes. Draping this over the chair, he heads into the kitchen.

Jungkook has always been good at hiding when he’s rattled and right now is no exception. Although he appears calm, on the inside, he’s shaking.

“What do you want?” he calls as he goes. Taking Hoseok’s words to heart, Jungkook opens the fridge. “I stocked up on food since the last time you came, so now I have ramen.”

When you fail to respond, Jungkook glances over his shoulder. Freezing in place, he watches you falter while attempting to climb onto his breakfast stool.

“You okay, Y/N?” he asks as he straightens. “Do you need to puke?”

“No,” you mumble, hanging your head.

Jungkook presses his lips together to avoid laughing. Your nausea isn’t funny, but it isn’t often he sees you anything less than immaculate. From your first meeting, Jungkook has found you intimidating. It’s oddly refreshing to see you with your walls down.

Lifting a brow, Jungkook leans in. “You sure?” he asks, making soft, retching sounds.

You groan, slumping lower. “No. But if you keep doing that, I’m going to puke in your Prada loafers.”

Snorting, Jungkook turns around to open a cabinet. Removing a glass, he fills this with water and sets it by your elbow.

“Drink,” he commands. “I’ll go get you Motrin.”

Heading down the long hall which connects to his bedroom, Jungkook listens to ensure you aren’t throwing up. Grabbing medicine and changing as fast as he can, he returns to find you seated upright, which is an improvement.

Your gaze fixates on his chest, though, which is strange.

Carefully, Jungkook places medicine by your hand. “So,” he says, clearing his throat. “Ramen?”

Startled, you look up as Jungkook stifles a laugh.

When you nod, he turns around and starts assembling ingredients. Eggs from the fridge, scallions, and other toppings. Silently, Jungkook wills himself to hold things together but it’s hard when the implication of tonight hangs in the air.

You stayed. You stayed, despite Jungkook saying nothing sexual would happen. He can count on one hand the number of times this has happened – easy to do, since the answer is zero. Such a thing has never happened.

“You don’t have to do that,” you murmur, interrupting his thoughts. “I know you told Hoseok I was here, but I can go home. I can Uber or something. Jimin is watching Dante all night, but I can leave. You know, sleep it off.”

You’re babbling. Talking in circles to avoid the wrong answer and Jungkook stares in amazement because frankly, he never thought he’d see the day. Something hard cracks in his chest, warmth spilling from a long-ignored crevice.

Turning around, Jungkook places the pot on his stove. “Y/N,” he says, turning on the burner. “I seriously don’t mind.”

“But you were about to get laid.”

He can feel his lips twitch. “I can get laid anytime.”

Even as he says it, Jungkook’s conscience protests but he ignores this. Apparently, he can’t get laid because he’s too busy thinking of you. It’s better you don’t know that, though. Safer like this, without fear of rejection.

“Sure,” you allow. “But you were about to get laid tonight.”

Setting down the spoon, Jungkook gives you a look. “As nice as it is you’re concerned about my dick, why don’t you let me speak for it – okay?”

Slightly chagrined, you sit back. Stifling laughter, Jungkook resumes prepping the food. Despite being a terrible chef, ramen is manageable and Jungkook hopes you’re still drunk enough to think it tastes okay.

“Besides,” he adds, lips tugging up at the corners, “the ego boost of you coming over tonight will last me for months.”

A loud groan escapes as you slump forward, prompting Jungkook’s laughter. Returning to the stove, he fiddles with the gas as you prop your chin in one hand. Jungkook tries not to look but can feel the heat of your stare on the side of his face.

He’s about to ask, what, when you open your mouth.

“You want me to really boost your ego?” you muse and Jungkook’s skin prickles. “Since you said I’m the best fuck you’ve ever had?”

“Yeah,” he says, trying to play it cool. “Boost my ego, I can take it.”

“Hm.” You sound skeptical – rightfully so, it turns out. “Well then, you should know you’re the same. Bar none. Actually,” you say, leaning closer, “throw out the bar. You’re the bar. Fuck, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that first time. You were right, you know? No one else has come close.”

Jungkook grips the handle of the pot so hard, he’s surprised it doesn’t break. Slowly, he takes a deep breath and forces himself to exhale. You’re drunk, he reminds himself. You’re drunk and everything you say should be taken with a grain of salt.

Still, Jungkook can’t help the current of emotion lurking beneath the surface. There’s a part of him – a large part – which wants to forget what he said, kiss you senseless and see if you crack and confess what you’re really thinking.

Stiffly, Jungkook forces himself to add the noodles. “A lesser man,” he mutters, “would ignore his moral code, bend you over the counter and fuck you right now.”

Your pupils darken, lower lip held between teeth and Jungkook knows if he asked, you would respond yes. Which is exactly why he has to be the one to say no.

Shaking his head, Jungkook looks away. “But I won’t,” he declares, lifting his spoon in the air, “because I’m a strong man who can’t be brought down by one woman’s vagina.”

You seem puzzled. “You sure?”

“No.” He levels you with a glance. “So, stop tempting me.”

You pause a beat before breaking into a grin. When you do, the sight leaves Jungkook winded and he wonders if he’s ever seen you happy before. No, that’s not it – he’s seen you happy, sure but never without walls. Seeing you smile this way is akin to the last morning mist burnt from the field.

When you wobble, nearly falling again, Jungkook springs into motion. “Shit,” he blurts, rushing around the counter.

“I’m fine!” you speak, waving him off as you right yourself. “Promise, I’m fine.”

Jungkook hesitates another moment, but eventually listens and returns to the stove. From then on, he vows to be on his best behavior, but the premise is difficult to execute. Before tonight, Jungkook knew you were smart and beautiful but now, he’s seen a side of you rarely shown. One that’s comfortable. Fully at ease, Jungkook thinks with an errant thump-thump of his heart.

Finishing your water, you unconsciously kick your feet back and forth beneath the counter. You seem softer, somehow. Less burdened – not that he dislikes how you usually are. Nothing fills him with greater pride than watching you cut an asshole to shreds. This feels special, though. As if Jungkook has been told a secret which only exists between the two of you.

“Jungkook,” you yawn, pushing forward your bowl. Forcing himself to focus, Jungkook realizes you’ve finished eating. “If I don’t find a bed soon, I’m going to be passed out on your floor within the next fifteen minutes.”

Lowering his spoon, he leans back in his seat. “I see.”

“Right.” You give him a pointed look. “So, I need to leave now. Or you won’t be able to move me until morning. Unless you carry me. Which might be bad for your back.”

“Or,” Jungkook adds, lifting a brow, “we could go with the obvious solution.”

“Which is?”

“You could stay the night.”

Jungkook genuinely thought this was obvious, but when you slowly blink, he wonders if this was so. Maybe he’s seeing what he wants to see and suddenly, Jungkook wishes he could take back the words.

Your feet are no longer swinging. “I… what?”

You don’t say this like the idea is bad, but rather like you can’t believe what you’re hearing. The warm thing in Jungkook’s chest – which had flickered – reignites.

“You could stay here tonight,” he says, grabbing the bowls for something to do. “I have a bunch of extra bedrooms, so you don’t have to stay in mine if you don’t want to. As long as you don’t mind wearing my clothes.”

As soon as the words leave his lips, Jungkook winces. He’s not sure why he said separate rooms, apart from the worry things might happen too quickly. Now the suggestion is out there though, and he can’t take it back.

“Or you can wear your own clothes, I guess,” he adds, backtracking. “Or sleep naked.” Shit. Now all Jungkook can think about is you, naked. “I don’t really know how you – I mean, we haven’t –”

“Your clothes would be nice,” you interrupt, putting him out of his misery.

Jungkook simply nods, shutting his cabinet doors. Heading out of his kitchen and down the long hall, he enters his bedroom.

“No problem,” he calls. “Why don’t you come grab a t-shirt?”

Heart pounding, Jungkook yanks open a dresser and grabs the first thing he sees. Suddenly, his mind is a master overthinker. Previous words, actions, everything that he’s done, runs through his mind on an endless loop.

Hearing you enter, Jungkook forces himself to turn around. “Will this work?” he asks.

You hover near the door, something almost tentative in the way you stand. Jungkook crosses the room, feeling as though he’s moving underwater when he hands you the t-shirt.

Fingertips brushing, you take the garment from his hands. “What do you think?” you ask quietly, laying it against your chest.

Jungkook stares at you, unable to speak. He can only watch his clothes held in your hands, struck by the certainty of how right this feels. Jungkook has never considered himself to be possessive (he’d have to care about something first) but the sight of you with his t-shirt stirs something primal.

“That works,” he manages to rasp.

Your gaze flickers once, then you nod and turn. “Can I take a shower?” you call as you enter his bathroom.

Jungkook nods, then realizes you can’t see him. “Yes,” he calls, leaning against the wall to hold himself up. The thought of you in his shower, water dripping from your naked curves, is too much to bear. “Bath products are in the far cabinet. Take what you need. Do you…” He swallows, dearly hoping the answer is yes. “Are you good to shower alone?”

If you respond no, Jungkook isn’t sure what he’ll do. Obviously, he’ll be a good human being and help you shower – but at what cost?

“I’m okay,” you call, sounding amused. “Be right out.”

The door to his bathroom shuts, leaving Jungkook on the outside. Exhaling, Jungkook drags a hand slowly down his face. After a moment, Jungkook adjusts himself and turns to walk towards the windows.

Hearing the shower start, Jungkook stops and stares at the skyline. So many thoughts run through his mind, begging to be untangled. Tonight was nothing like he anticipated and yet, Jungkook can’t help but feel he’s made some sort of progress.

For weeks now, Jungkook has been afraid to consider what his feelings might mean. The fact that he thinks about you all the time, looks forward to seeing you even when there’s no sex involved – it’s not something he’s ever experienced.

Dragging a hand through his hair, Jungkook stares at his reflection. You weren’t wrong about what you said earlier: I can’t help but notice you got rid of what’s-her-face the second I came over.

It’s true. Jungkook barely thought twice before sending Giselle home, no matter the potential cost. It’s something that would have been important to him mere weeks ago – he should probably send Namjoon a text, letting him know there’s an angry supplier on the way. Before you, it would’ve been the first thing Jungkook thought of but tonight…

Shaking his head, Jungkook refuses to finish the thought. Even if he does have feelings for you, that’s not what you want with him.

In the bathroom, Jungkook hears the water stop and slowly turns around. Seating himself on the bed, he crosses his legs at the knees and waits. When you reenter the room, the sight of you wrings the breath from his lungs.

For the second time tonight, Jungkook finds himself speechless. Slowly, his gaze drags up your body, lingering where his t-shirt sticks to your dampened skin.

“Ah,” he rasps, the words like hot coals. “You look… good.”

Good is inadequate. Jungkook wishes he were creative so he could impress you with art, poetry, or the stuff of legends. Instead, all he has is this shriveled thing in his chest which beats for you.

“So,” you exhale, clothes bundled to your chest. “Are the other bedrooms… upstairs?”

Jungkook pauses, then blinks, having forgotten he said that. Eventually, he nods and forces himself to stand. Concealing his own disappointment – he was the one who offered, after all – he moves towards the door.

“Yeah,” he says, mustering a smile. “Follow me.”

Cursing himself for being a total idiot, Jungkook enters the hall and considers how best to retract the offer. But what if this was the only reason you agreed to stay? Then Jungkook would lose all the ground he’s gained, and he can’t bear the thought of you leaving now.

He talks as he walks, pointing out different rooms without really hearing himself. There are technically three guest rooms in his place. Yoongi and Taehyung have crashed in two, but no one has stayed in the third – not even him.

Jungkook calls it his mom’s room even though she never saw it. He redesigned the room after she died, a singular place of warmth within his frigid life. Jungkook rarely enters but now, is struck by the possibility you might like this room best of all.

“And this is my favorite,” he breathes, pushing open a door. Before Jungkook can overthink it, he brings you inside and assumes a neutral expression.

Crossing the threshold, you falter. “It’s beautiful,” you say, turning to him with wide eyes. “Whose room is this? It doesn’t really look like your… vibe.”

Jungkook takes no offense, although he does wonder what you consider his vibe to be. He knows the rest of his condo has a sterile, unlived-in feel, but that’s only because he’s so rarely at home.

Opening his mouth, Jungkook realizes the only explanation he has is the truth. He can’t say what this room truly means. If he did, it’d reveal something personal and that’s explicitly against your initial rules.

Or this is what Jungkook tells himself. In reality, Jungkook has crossed so many lines tonight, the integrity of your rules have been smashed to smithereens. Explaining his mother to you though, is something he can never take back, and so, Jungkook doesn’t.

“No one’s, really,” he says, releasing a breath. “I helped the designer with it. And my room, of course, but I wanted this room to be different. Homier.”

You nod, looking away and Jungkook is grateful you don’t pry. Walking inside, your hand drifts across a sunken ottoman and Jungkook watches you move. Placing your clothes on top of the dresser, you turn and catch sight of the view.

Pulling aside the curtain, you stare at the night sky and Jungkook stares at you.

“It’s really nice,” you murmur.

“I’m glad you like it.”

Letting the curtain drop, you glance over your shoulder. “I’m sure everyone who stays here has told you that.”

“I wouldn’t know.” Jungkook states the truth, walking forward. “You’re the first person to stay here.”

Eyes wide, you watch as he stops before you. Jungkook hesitates, then lifts a hand to gently cup your jaw. Exhaling softly, your breath drifts across his palm when you shut your eyes.

Jungkook stares at your face, boldly allowing himself to drink you in. Before, he’s always insisted on distance. On the pretense of being the one in control, of pretending he doesn’t feel the incessant pull between you. Now, he allows himself to look and doesn’t conceal his expression.

Gaze dropping to your lips, Jungkook wonders what it would be like to kiss you. You kissed the first night in his car, but not since then – something which was at first, accidental but now is purposeful. Now, it feels like a bridge of intimacy that, if Jungkook were to cross, he won’t be able to return.

It’s safer this way. Sex is just sex, after all – a natural instinct Jungkook knows he’s good at.

Intimacy, though. Affection. These are things Jungkook has never tried and things at which he might fail. Lowering his face, Jungkook gently brushes a kiss to your forehead.

When you shiver, he takes a step backwards. Your eyes open, hazy with want – and something else. Something Jungkook has never seen before.

Swiftly, Jungkook turns and forces himself to leave. “Goodnight,” he says softly, shutting the door.

Dangerous, he thinks, beating a hasty retreat. Wanting you like that is futile because even if he said it aloud, you wouldn’t – couldn’t – want him back.

This doesn’t keep Jungkook from tossing and turning all night though, wishing he’d asked you to sleep in his bed.

[Series Master List]

#bangtanarmynet #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook au #bts au #jungkook series #bts series

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cubezart · 4 months

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Hi!! You totally don't know me at all, I'm a complete stranger >:) And I'd love to hear about Jim's mental world!!

HI ok so erm this is mostly just gonna be a mess of rambles and vague ideas smushed together barely in order but

(old/outdated concept sketch, but it's a good start)

for starters, the prime issue(s) to help resolve in his mental world (or this version at least) is jim's fear of burdening his friends and family, and his resistance to reaching out for help, as much as he really needs it. it doesn't get too deep into his trauma, it's just giving jim the push he needs to seek out help again

after jim's recent divorce with bettie, he's been trying to give his family "some space to process" ...which didn't take long to sink back into old self isolation habits. he's been putting his all into his job to repress and distract from everything else going on with him, and it doesn't seem like it'll work for very much longer

first area in his mind is a boring + extremely tiny office room, the other cubicles are all empty and open except for jim's, which has a big metal door attached to the entrance. you can try and talk to him or ask him things, but it won't get you much . he insists he's happier in there really !! its so nice and safe hes fine :) its ok :)

when asked why he's locked in, he'll insist it's for his own safety, saying some vague stuff while the clairvoyance hints become even more obvious. when you use clairvoyance on him, his POV shows the cubicle door and everywhere around it surrounded by nightmares clawing and staring at him from the other side. (something something these are all just his own perception of things and he's really not in danger)

afterwards, his dialogue tree gets pretty short and limited, leaving raz to explore !! there's a few doors you can interact with, one being just a simple archetype-required door with a little collectible or somethin. the other is an old n dusty storage closet filled with memory vaults piling up to the ceiling. you can't really interact with any of those individually, (maybe some raz line along the lines of "i can't punch through all those :( ") but there's one or two real ones that just seem to have completely mundane and normal memories inside. weird! cuz with cpstd n trauma memory loss/repression, it can repress a lot more than what's necessary

there's one last door to try, leading out into the next phase ! raz says goodbye to jim, and jim happily waves back as the door shuts n locks behind raz, and the hallway distorts and extends, distancing raz away too :( sorta like the effect in the pn2 office construct !! im taking a lot of inspo from that world tbh heehe except for the obvious yknow. dental stuff

the next phase is kind of a messy stub for now, still sorting n planning out everything in my head lol but it's called Jim's Judgement

it centers more around jim's trauma and Issues TM and a lot of it is more vague concepts than any real gameplay ideas for the more dark story elements bc i don't want raz to have to see that and like to think after raz gets him a head start, he gets into actual professional Psychonauts therapy (and for my own silly oc/canon interaction fun, its sasha and milla assigned to help him. perhaps. maybe. they almost assigned oleander but he yelled too much and scared him away /hj) ANYWAY!!

all that being said i honestly have 0 ideas how to tone shit down for raz and im still trying to plan out the smaller in-game per se variation on it so i will simply. wait to talk about it. there's a lot of cool symbolism and motifs i prommy i swear </3 but the main "boss fight" final moment thing surrounds his whole paranoia of being a horrible person who others only tolerate + he constantly has to "make up for it" by putting everything and everyone Before him. i really wanna end it back in the small office space with jim having the key on his desk this whole time, making it literally In His Hands to get himself out. he just needed the support! he's definitely scared and slow, but he opens the door and steps out of his cubicle. the room grows a little bit. its a start

i was gonna ramble more about the darker version of the second phase but this post is already gettin Long and kinda incoherent i think so ermm. ill split it off into a second post probably if anyones interested in hearing more . i hope this all made sense lol i have too many thoughts about him to keep together honestly

#🟩 the cube speaks #🐟 my art #asks #psychonauts oc #jim monday #mental world #sorry in advance to strangers seeing this in the tags /hj

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cloudwhisper23 · 1 month

Text

I spent two days on this prompt, lol. Yet another story for @grow-bettah's Grumbo Month event! I am still pushing the limits of what counts for these prompts by the way. XD

Day 13: Long Day

He knew the rules well. Hot Guy had impressed them in harshly, the glint of sorrow in his eyes as he’d explained it. Don’t get attached to the tech working with you. Don’t get attached to anybody. That was how they’d get you.

So Cute Guy was rude to the people around him. He was harsh on his technician, who shied away whenever he so much as looked at the man. If the pain of clearly hurting Mumbo got to him, he’d find a puddle to splash himself in and pretend to be someone else. Someone better.

The difference between Grian and Cute Guy was stark enough that Mumbo never noticed their similar height. His tech worked well enough that he never realized it was used against him. Mumbo never suspected a thing. It was perfect, ignoring the fact that Cute Guy had broken the first rule: don’t get attached to the tech.

But Grian wasn’t Cute Guy. He was better.

Mumbo didn’t seem too sure. No matter how much Grian tried to put down Cute Guy for his harsh jokes and cruel flirting, Mumbo always had a defense ready.

Grian saw it as a challenge, digging up more of his terrible deeds to point out to Mumbo. The media caught a lot of it, so it was easy to convince Mumbo that he’d seen it on the news somewhere.

“Some hero,” Grian often said. “How can you be a hero and be so cruel?” It was a question he asked himself.

“I think…” Mumbo would always start, hesitant. “I don’t think he means to be. I think he’s worried about letting people in.”

Grian always scoffed, finding some other way to poke at Cute Guy.

“You just like him because you’re well off,” Grian said one night, the cool surface of window glass against his back.

Mumbo flinched. “Am I? My job is quite demanding, Grian.”

Mumbo wasn’t allowed to share what he did for a living. It was a safety measure. But because Cute Guy knew, Grian knew. And he always suspected it was because of him that Mumbo was constantly exhausted. The glint in Mumbo’s eye only existed when he was with Grian. It was certainly never present around Cute Guy, nor with Hot Guy. Not even Hot Guy’s tech, Cub, could get more than a few words out of Mumbo on the job.

Mumbo was shy, a realization Grian reached rather quickly. He stuttered when he was unsure of something. His laugh held more energy than Grian could ever give.

“What do you do for a living?” Grian asked, the pressure settling over Mumbo like the collapse of a building.

“You know I can’t tell you that.”

“Is it dangerous?” Grian pressed further, knowing he was pushing Mumbo’s buttons. “Are you a super hero?”

“Goodness gracious no!” Mumbo smiled nervously. “Grian, please. Drop it.”

“Fine.” Grian tightened his shoulders. He didn’t need Mumbo to tell him. “What’s so demanding about your mysterious job, anyway?”

“Grian.”

“You don’t have to give details! Just like, blame your boss or whatever. Be as vague as you need.”

Mumbo swallowed. “I don’t know…”

“I’ll tell you about my life if you do it,” Grian said, peering at Mumbo from the windowsill. It wouldn’t be hard to tell small truths, like where he’d been before the program decided to use him. It wouldn’t be hard to recall his old life.

Mumbo’s mustache twitched. “Fine. It’s not my boss so much as one of the people I work with. A client, if you will.”

“Go on…”

“He’s…” Mumbo struggled to find words. “Well, he certainly tries to make things harder for me.”

He must be talking about me, Grian decided. Tilting his head, Grian nudged Mumbo into elaborating. “So he’s a jerk.”

“More than that! He’s the boss of a few other people, and I just know he’s rubbing off on them because there’s no way they’d be so-“ Mumbo clamped his mouth shut. “I guess he’s what the good people of the city would call a villain.”

Grian flinched at that. Surely not? If Mumbo was so defensive of Cute Guy, why call him a villain?

“Your turn,” Mumbo said softly.

Grian remained silent.

“Grian, you promised,” Mumbo’s voice sounded small. It tugged at Grian’s heart.

His shoulders sank as he looked into Mumbo’s eyes. “What do you want to know?”

The facility felt cold the next day, when Mumbo walked into the laboratory. Hot Guy nodded to him, the faintest acknowledgement.

It was the most polite anyone ever was to Mumbo. Aside from Grian, of course.

Mumbo swallowed the noise in his throat as he recalled their conversation and the way Grian’s voice sounded dead when he told Mumbo about his life. About the scavenging to survive, about the way his younger brother had succumbed to an illness he couldn’t do anything about. About the way he described the many times he’d been kidnapped for the sake of experiments. Experiments.

Mumbo kept his eyes on the broken visor on the table. Hot Guy burned through these fast, and oftentimes Mumbo was stuck fixing them. Cute Guy’s equipment rarely broke, as his skills lay more in a subtle category.

“On the table there,” a voice said, and it ran chills up Mumbo’s spine.

He kept working mechanically, watching with his peripherals as Hot Guy sighed and jumped up on the table. “Time for more?”

“Don’t backtalk me,” Hot Guy’s handler snapped, black wings flicking out with irritation. “It’d be a shame to have to find you someone new to repair your equipment.”

Mumbo’s fingers worked quickly, finishing up his work on the visor. “Repairs are done,” he said as though he hadn’t been listening to the conversation in the room.

“Good.” The handler didn’t spare him a look. “Now get out.”

“Yes sir.” Mumbo exited, taking a deep breath once he got into the hallway.

Just in time to see the news report. “-receiving word of multiple building collapses, and no heroes are yet in sight. Most of the Lower East Side has been completely destroyed. We advise everyone to evacuate to the Higher West Side if at all possible to avoid further tragedy.”

Mumbo’s hand shot to the pager at his belt. “Cute Guy, do you copy?”

No response.

Mumbo tried to calm his trembling as he tried again. “Cute Guy?” Please answer. Of all the times to ignore me, now is not one of them. Grian lived there. Grian worked there. He was in danger, and Cute Guy wouldn’t spare Mumbo the time to ask for help.

“Cute Guy, do you copy?” Mumbo’s voice thickened with tears as the news continued. “Cute Guy, please answer me.”

Determining that this was not going to work, Mumbo stormed back into the lab. Hot Guy met his gaze solidly, his muscles tense as the handler inserted a needle into his arm. The handler whirled on Mumbo immediately, shouting at him to get out.

“This is an emergency,” Mumbo stated, his voice quavering. “For one thing, Cute Guy won’t answer his communicator, and for another, something has gone wrong on the Lower East Side. They need a hero out there. Cute Guy is unresponsive, meaning whatever you’re up to needs to wait. There are civilian lives at risk.”

Hot Guy’s mouth twitched, but he said nothing. The handler glowered at Mumbo. “Cute Guy is unresponsive?”

“To my pager, yes. I am not entirely sure where he is.” Truthfully, Mumbo hadn’t even thought to look for Cute Guy. The hero avoided him like the plague unless he needed something, and even then, he was harsh and snippy. Hot Guy was right here, so he was the faster option regardless. Especially if Cute Guy stubbornly refused to respond to communication.

The handler walked toward Mumbo, his grey eyes darkening to something more akin to black. “You are to go find Cute Guy and report back to me.”

“But the Lower East Side-“

“You are to go find Cute Guy.” Wings bristling, the handler grabbed Mumbo’s shoulder. His talons sank deep enough to draw blood. “Is that clear?”

Mumbo shot Hot Guy a look. The hero shrugged at him. He was in no position to resist either, clearly. “That is clear. I’ll find Cute Guy.”

The handler stared at him for another moment. “One more instance of this insubordination, and you’re out.”

“I don’t work for you,” Mumbo snapped, unthinking. Hot Guy betrayed the slightest wince.

The handler’s grip tightened. “I think you’ll find that crossing me will be very unpleasant for you, Mumbo Jumbo.”

“Yes sir.” Mumbo was nearly shaking with his own rage now. Grian could be dead on the pavement for all this man cared, but all he could think about was Cute Guy.

“Answer your damn comms, mate!” Mumbo practically shouted into the pager when he was alone. “Where are you?”

No response.

“Cute Guy!” Mumbo yelled into the pager.

“Why are you so loud?” Cub asked, plugging his ears as he approached Mumbo.

“Cute Guy won’t answer his comms, and the Lower East Side needs a hero right about now.” Mumbo scowled at Cub. “And apparently no one in this building even knows or cares.”

“What are you talking about?” Cub blinked, pulling his fingers from his ears. “We would’ve heard something by now-“

Mumbo pointed silently at the hall broadcast, something implemented into every hallway to ensure that everyone was constantly updated on the events around the city. Images of crumbled buildings and bodies littered the screen. Mumbo’s stomach heaved as he saw the smashed remains of a child’s doll, splattered with blood, in the image.

Cub paled significantly. “This isn’t a job for Cute Guy, Mumbo. Even if you could find him, they need both: Hot Guy and Cute Guy.”

“Yeah, good luck with that one, mate. The handler is in there with Hot Guy.”

“You’re joking.” Cub pushed his glasses up his nose. “Okay, new plan. We’re going to sort this out ourselves.”

“How do you figure?”

“We’re tech guys. We’re smart enough to figure out the technology we work with every day, surely.”

“In theory,” Mumbo replied. “But probably not in practice.”

“Look, man. I saw how hysterical you were. And this sort of thing never phases you. It’s the only reason you were hired, actually. You can keep a cool head under pressure. Clearly, this stuff means something to you.”

“But-“

“Mumbo, either we do this, or the entire Lower East Side goes down. Are you with me?”

Mumbo’s resolve wavered, and he recalled Grian’s expression from the night before. His grave resolve. “I’m with you.”

Things were decidedly not going well. Cute Guy cursed the thick black glow coursing through his veins as he hoisted a sobbing toddler into his arms. The girl clung to his neck, her sobs slightly muffled by his torn uniform.

The Lower East Side had been positively ravaged. Cute Guy cursed the idiot who’d thought necromancy was a good idea as he deposited the child at the evacuation point.

Someone came forward immediately, shouting for his baby. Cute Guy gave up the child with little effort before running back into the danger zone, despite the protests from the police officers at his back.

They didn’t register him as Cute Guy.

And why would they? He had his mask on, sure, but the effects of that… thing sank deep. It was on his clothes, in his hair, and most definitely under his skin. He could feel it draining his energy even as he hurried back into the destruction.

Like an idiot, Cute Guy had tried to confront the biggest monster on his own. It had launched explosive skulls at him, roaring fiercely.

The first attack took out his main equipment. Now he just had a weird glowing blue sword that Mumbo had handed him once and his wings. Thankfully, he wasn’t in the worst shape. The black skeletons were somewhat manageable with the help of the sword, but without the help of Hot Guy’s bow, the big monster couldn’t be dealt with.

Staggering as a wave of pain overtook him, Cute Guy let himself take a moment to breathe. He felt the dust on every inch of his body, and his wings tried to dislodge the debris that had managed to get in between every feather. It was a hopeless fight. Until backup arrived, all the news would hear about was the lone civilian continuously running back into the destroyed district to save as many other lives as he could.

Distantly, he heard screaming and the roar of the monster. Cute Guy’s wings twinged, and he forced himself to launch into the air to fly toward the noise.

Mumbo and Cub both heard the screams at the same time. They ran toward the sound, stumbling as an explosion rocked the ground. Cub had emphasized that the wings were experimental, and even if they needed to cover ground quickly, they were only to be used in absolute emergencies. Still, Mumbo couldn’t help but feel miffed that they didn’t have the helpful advantage of Cute Guy soaring overhead. Hot Guy liked to call him “the eyes in the sky,” and Mumbo could definitely see the lure of that in a situation like this.

“Oh, that’s not good,” Cub said softly. “How should we do this?”

Mumbo stared in terror at the scene before them. A grotesque, three-headed black skeletal creature floated in the air above two kids. It looked as though it was gearing up for another attack, even as Mumbo glimpsed a third body lying motionless beside the other two.

“You evacuate the kids while I distract that thing?” Mumbo asked without thinking.

“You’re crazy.”

“Yeah, well, that’s the plan we’re going with.” Mumbo shot out of hiding, even as Cub cursed behind him. “Hey! Over here!” He steadied his crossbow and shot the monster.

It whipped around immediately, roaring its displeasure at the interruption. The kids screamed again as Mumbo scrambled to ready another crossbow bolt. He dimly recalled Hot Guy’s distaste for crossbows, and he was suddenly aware of their major flaw: reload time.

Ditching the effort with the crossbow, Mumbo started running. An explosion hit the ground at his feet. Mumbo tumbled to the pavement, cement tearing through the shoddy armor he and Cub had managed to cobble together. Something crunched against his back, and Mumbo figured he was dead if he didn’t get up.

Staggering to his feet, Mumbo heard the blood roaring in his ears as the giant monstrous creature continued to chase him. With no weapon in sight, Mumbo ditched the remains of the equipment. It hadn’t been a viable plan to begin with, and Mumbo had known that. Still, he let Cub pretend there was hope, if only to ensure that Cub didn’t go into this alone.

Just keep running, Mumbo told himself. This whole thing was too dangerous for civilians. Even if there was that tiny voice telling Mumbo that Grian would be the type to run back in here to save countless others, he knew his friend didn’t have a chance. He didn’t have a chance.

Maybe Cute Guy or Hot Guy would’ve, but Mumbo had no idea what they would’ve done in this situation. They weren’t here, and they probably wouldn’t make it in time to save anyone anyway.

A step onto cracked and uneven pavement sent Mumbo sprawling again. Pain shot up his leg as his ankle made an unpleasant crunching noise. Mumbo crawled forward, but the monster was right there, and oh God, he was going to die, and-

Something flew over his head, wacking the monster with a solid crack. The monster roared in fury, shooting at the thing, but it couldn’t seem to connect.

Mumbo watched in dazed shock as the grey blur ducked in between the explosive attacks and landed hit after hit on the monster. The thing finally crumbled, literally, as withered bones exploded everywhere. One of them scratched Mumbo’s face, but he hardly flinched.

“Hey, Mumbo? Can you hear me?” A warm hand cupped his face.

Mumbo struggled to focus his vision and failed.

“Mumbo?” the voice persisted.

“…Grian?” Mumbo said hopefully. Maybe they’d both died, and Grian was here to guide him on his way to the afterlife. At least he got to see Grian again. That was nice.

“No, Mumbo. Hey, can you look at me? Can you manage that?”

Mumbo scrunched his face, trying to stop his vision from swimming. “You sound familiar. But you’re not Grian?”

“No, I’m not Grian.” A huff escaped the other person. “You know me, though. Don’t you, Mumbo?”

Finally, finally, Mumbo’s vision settled, and he saw the familiar curve of Cute Guy’s mask way closer to his face than it had ever been. Mumbo flinched, aggravating his ankle again as he attempted to get away.

“Hey, hey. None of that. Mumbo, you need to stay still for a moment.” Cute Guy caught his arm.

Cute Guy was more grey than Mumbo remembered. He was fairly certain Cute Guy had black and pink wings, not grey. Then it finally clicked that of course Cute Guy was coated in the same debris coating his own body. And then he registered that he must still be alive, as his ankle was in such complete pain that there was no way he was dead.

Mumbo didn’t realize he would be so disappointed to be alive. But he swallowed his pain and scowled. “You’re late.”

“Excuse me?” Cute Guy’s mouth twisted. “I’ve been here the whole time! If anyone’s late, it’s Hot Guy!” His wing twitched irritably. “This is what I get for coming to save you. Not even a thank you.”

“Maybe I would’ve given you a thank you if you’d answered your comms,” Mumbo snapped right back, a tiny bit relieved that things hadn’t changed too much. “How was I supposed to know you were here? Nobody’s seen you!”

“They’ve seen me. They just can’t recognize me easily when I’m coated in pulverized cement.” Cute Guy looked like he was about to elaborate, but then a flash of something black flickered under his skin. He shuddered as he fell into Mumbo, knocking both of them to the ground.

“Whoa, mate.” Mumbo wrapped an arm around Cute Guy and attempted to sit up. Pain flared in his ankle, but he ignored it. “You alright?”

“I’m fine.” Cute Guy pulled himself away from Mumbo, expression guarded. “What are you even doing here?”

Mumbo opened his mouth, but he didn’t know how to explain. How to tell Cute Guy that his best friend in the whole world lived here and was probably dead. That he’d been desperate for someone to save him, only to find out that Cute Guy had already been here to save people the whole time.

“None of your business” was what Mumbo settled on, slightly satisfied to see Cute Guy’s annoyance slip through his careful expression.

“I think it’s safe to say this is my business, especially since you tried to get yourself killed.”

“I wasn’t trying to. I-“

“Then what,” Cute Guy said with what sounded like exaggerated patience, “were you doing?”

“I was looking for someone,” Mumbo finally said. He didn’t want to listen to Cute Guy’s barbed response to that, but he had to say it. “I was looking for my best friend.”

Cute Guy seemed surprised. Actually, a tinge of red appeared on his face. Finally remorseful of your actions, are you? Mumbo looked away from Cute Guy. He didn’t want to hear what Cute Guy had to say.

“And I know you and Hot Guy are always going on about not getting attached, but technically, I am still a civilian, so-“

“Who were you looking for?” Cute Guy asked.

Mumbo’s lip quivered. He didn’t want to expose Grian to Cute Guy’s unrelenting bullying. Especially after Grian tried to convince him countless times that Cute Guy was terrible.

But Cute Guy was unrelenting. “Who are they? Mumbo, you may not like me or even trust me, but I need to know if I should be looking for someone.”

“His name is Grian.” Mumbo squeezed his eyes shut. “And he’s the kind of person who’d run back into a destroyed district for the sake of someone else.”

“Hmm.” Cute Guy didn’t have much to say about that. “Well, let’s get you out of here, at least. Come on.”

Mumbo blinked. Right. First and foremost, Cute Guy was a hero. Of course, he’d be concerned about Grian more as a civilian than anything else. Relief shot through Mumbo’s veins as Cute Guy lifted him into the air.

Grian was going to be okay.

Mumbo made his way to his living room, sighing in relief when he reached the couch and could put his crutches aside. He was completely and utterly exhausted. His day had been far too long.

A tapping at his window jolted him from his sleepy haze. Grian. Mumbo tried to stand up before remembering his broken ankle. Even with the extra jolt of pain, Mumbo managed to get over to the window and open it for his friend.

“Having a bit of trouble there?” Grian asked, steadying Mumbo on the walk back over to the couch.

“A bit yeah. Broke my ankle.”

“Mmm,” Grian’s face scrunched. He sat gingerly on the edge of the couch, looking quite pale.

“Are you alright?” Mumbo asked, his gaze sweeping over Grian. “I heard about the incident in the Lower East End. Some kind of monster?”

“Yeah.” Grian shuddered. “I almost didn’t make it out.” He cleared his throat. “The um. The doctors said I got an infection from them. They called it Wither. After the monster, that is.”

“The doctors knew what it was?” Mumbo hated the sound of that word.

“Mhm. I mean, they kind of have to, if it can get people sick like this. Just one touch can give you infection.” Grian said this quickly, as though he didn’t want to think about it.

“Is it curable?”

“Yeah. It’s not a pleasant experience, given that my diet is going to consist mainly of milk for the next few weeks, but its better than the alternative.” Grian shrugged. “I’m out of work for a while too.”

“There’s worse things than getting some much needed rest,” Mumbo remarked. “They aren’t letting me go in for at least a week, if it makes you feel better.”

“Unpaid or paid?” Grian asked.

“Paid. Wait a minute, are you out of work? Completely?”

Grian shrugged. “Maybe.”

“But you’ll starve!”

“I know.” He smiled. “You know, I think you’re the only person I’ve heard protest about the problem so far, actually.”

“I’ve been thinking about this,” Mumbo shrugged sheepishly. “The entire Lower East Side was destroyed. Banks, stores, houses. I mean, you’re not the only person with this problem, I’m sure, but I did think of you first. That’s where you live, right? And presumably where you work, too. An entire district of people who aren’t getting compensation for losing everything shouldn’t just be left to die.”

Grian was staring at him. Mumbo felt like maybe he needed to justify himself a little bit.

“The hero foundation has a lot of money,” Mumbo said softly. “All that money spent on technology that never leaves the labs. Surely they could spare some, right? For a destroyed district?”

Grian still wasn’t speaking. He was just looking at Mumbo, an odd expression on his face.

“Grian? Are you still listening?”

“Yeah… Just…” Grian blinked, shaking his head. “You care so much about all those people.”

“Of course. I mean, just because I have a better paying job than them doesn’t make me better than them.” Mumbo shrugged.

“Yeah…” Grian blinked at him again.

“Hey, are you feeling okay?”

“Mmmm…” Grian let his eyes fall shut. “You know, I don’t think most people share your sentiment. I doubt heroes do, anyway.”

“You and your hero nonsense again! Cute Guy was there, I promise you.”

“How would you know?”

“Because I was there, Grian. I came to find you.”

“And they just let you go into the restricted part of the city on your own, I suppose? Is that how you broke your ankle?” Grian's eyes flew open again as he challenged Mumbo. “You went to play at heroics, even believing that our so-called heroes would come save me?”

“Well, as you said, no one had seen Cute Guy.” Mumbo shrugged. “I was worried, so I went looking.”

“But why?” Grian pressed. “Why would you risk yourself like that? You knew it was dangerous, obviously. Why do something that could get you killed?”

“Because you could’ve been dead,” Mumbo said. “No, listen. I can’t- I can’t lose you, mate.”

Grian looked away at that. “I’m nobody, Mumbo. You would’ve been fine.”

“You aren’t nobody. You’re my best friend.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before.” Grian hugged himself, distancing himself from Mumbo. “Cute Guy passed on your message, by the way. He gave me quite the scolding.”

“Nothing more than I got, I’m sure.” Mumbo smiled ruefully. “So Cute Guy did end up finding you?”

“Yep.” Grian remained further from Mumbo. “You think I’m the heroic type.”

“Am I wrong?”

“No.” Grian finally met Mumbo’s gaze again. “But Mumbo, you can’t go around doing stuff like that anymore, okay? Because as much as you think it’ll help, you can’t try to save me on your own.”

“Leave it to the big guys, huh?” Mumbo asked weakly.

“You aren’t allowed to get yourself killed.”

Mumbo blinked. Grian’s voice was authoritative, almost aggressive. “…Alright. But you gotta check in when things like this happen.”

“I’m here, aren’t I? Checking in.” Grian finally seemed to release the tension he’d been holding the whole time he’d been here.

“Nah, more often than this. I know you like coming here at night, mate, but surely you can visit during the day too. Especially since you’re out of work right now.” Something occurred to Mumbo then. “Actually, wait. Do you even have somewhere to stay at night? Now that your district is…”

“Not really. Why? You offering?” Grian’s mischievous look returned. “Can’t say I’m not flattered, Mumbo.”

“What? Why are you taking it that way!” Mumbo’s cheeks burned. “Can’t a man just be nice to his friend?”

“You’re obsessed with me,” Grian replied. “Running into a destroyed district for the sole purpose of seeing if I’m okay. I dunno, Mumbo, but that seems a bit-“

“Okay, no.” Mumbo pointed a finger at Grian. “You can’t use that card because you did it for complete strangers.”

“Not complete strangers. I knew some of them.”

“Yes, but as I’ve already said, you’re my best friend. I’d say that’s a higher level than people you’ve met before, yeah?”

Grian rolled his eyes. “Fine, sure, yeah. Harsh words, mate.”

Mumbo shrugged. “You can still stay here if you want.”

“Even if I pretend it’s because you’re in love with me?” Grian giggled as Mumbo made a protesting noise in the back of his throat.

“Even then,” Mumbo answered, certain his voice sounded higher than usual. “Yep, perfectly fine for you to pretend something like that.”

“Alright. I think I’ll take you up on that offer then.” Grian shuffled back over, settling in on the couch, despite the fact that Mumbo hadn’t moved. He was laying across Mumbo’s lap without a care in the world.

Mumbo made another strange noise, even as Grian grinned up at him. “Good night, Mumbo.”

“Grian!”

“Yes?”

“I need to get up still.”

“Should’ve thought of that before I laid down. You’re my pillow now. Sorry.”

Mumbo’s mouth twitched. “You’re going to give me back problems.”

“Sounds like a you problem. I’m going to sleep now. Today has been way too long.” Grian closed his eyes with a soft sigh.

“Yeah.” Mumbo’s voice quieted. “It has been quite the long day.”

#grumbo month #grumbo #grian #mumbo jumbo #cute guy #hot guy #cubfan135 #not tagging scar by name bc it never comes up as him #still debating whether I want to make this into its own storyline actually #the thought has crossed my mind several times #cloud writes

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scarlet--wiccan · 8 months

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I’m still meh about marvel. I believe that teddy and billy are still underdeveloped characters that are being used as a golden ticket for Disney. I feel like they’ve both ‘lost’ traits about their personalities and are very attached to each other, this is being used in a devious way imo… also they’re comics biggest lgbtq+ couple yet it doesn’t seem like it, more tokenised. Forever stuck together in infinity comics. I wish the best for them, I do for the whole maguns family but I can’t help but be sick of the way marvel treats them. Like also tommy, I think luna has more appearances than him lol. There’s so many cool things they could do but don’t, explore dynamics, re write retcons exc.

I mean you’d think billy would be really mentally unwell fighting these wars in space. Plus the identity issues both the twins would have. Marvel could do so much yet decide not too. I just feel melancholy when it comes to billy and teddy these days. I feel like it’s gonna get worse, especially since the mcu is trying to adapt ‘billy’ but in the most horrific way. I’d love to hear allan heinbergs thoughts on that lol. But yeah I don’t mean to be sappy, I just feel meh when I think of the missed opportunities and the way disney/marvel is treating them. bland in its nature.

While Billy and Teddy have never reached A-list status, I wouldn't say they've been underutilized. They are the only characters, along with Kate and America, to succeed as breakouts from Young Avengers, and they were consistently employed by Al Ewing for, like, six years, with an actual continuous storyline that spanned multiple titles and a major event. That doesn't happen for many characters, and I'm sorry, but that's not tokenizing to me. They had a really strong arc and were written by multiple authentic voices. They have been more out of the spotlight lately, but they're also coming back soon in Guardians. I'm not saying you shouldn't be critical, but I'm honestly grateful that the 2010s worked out as well as they did, and I try to remember that until very recently, championing LGBT characters was an uphill battle at Marvel. In many cases, it still is.

Of course I want to see more of them, and of course I want there to be more follow-through on the implications of the Kree-Skrull Alliance. I loved Empyre and there's really not much I would change about that story, but it created a lot of loose ends and open questions that haven't been resolved yet, and that is frustrating. That's kind of the theme of the last couple years, though-- my main frustrations with Krakoa are very similar.

Regarding Billy's mental health, I'd rather see him demonstrate growth and healing than continue being defined by his depression, and to their credit, Ewing and Oliveira illustrated that pretty clearly on multiple occasions. We know that Billy still experiences these challenges, but we also know that he's better equipped to work through those challenges than he was in CC or YA-- and that resilience translates literally into more powerful magic.

I feel similarly about Wanda, and in both cases, it's a fine line to tread. You want to show hopeful futures, but you don't want to diminish the reality of the situation-- and in Wanda's case, the desire to repair her character from ableist, sexist writing can make it difficult to linger on her mental health. Ideally, there would be more time and space to show these characters going to therapy or putting in the daily effort of recovery, but unfortunately, that's not the sort of thing that gets prioritized in limited pages.

#billy kaplan #teddy altman

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querte07 · 5 months

Text

WhateverIFeelLiketober

The prompts me and @fanstasticbook worked on over October!

...Yeah i know this is super late shhhhhh

Goofy Goober OC by Fanstasticbook

...The yuri,,,

We exchanged our monthly PFPs for a prompt, I also played around in CSP because I did the free trial and all

Machine

Spiky goober

Four if Fanstasticbook was the CEO of everything (btw every friday we drew agt 4 as the prompt)

They will not happen, but I think sharklings are cool...

Some goober pumpkin OCs from a while back, they're some of my faves

Also they're child n' mother respectively just for those curious about the OCs (I am talking to basically nobody nobody is following me on here)

Spooder, from same set of OCs as the previous day

Decided I wanted to be awesome for day 10 so I just did

These designs are some Fanstasticbook came up with btw not me lol

Umbrellas in character design.

Need I say more?

Yummy borger !!

Another goober enters the ring, this one being related to @crossthesplatside (whenever we finally get to posting more about the projects 💀)

Once upon a time I designed different looks for different names the Zoologist from Terraria has available and this one is basically my favorite

B̴̛͚̭͕̩̳̮͈̮̲̙͓̤̱̞͎́̉̊̔͋̈́̓͌̕͘e̶̦͈̭̝̪̞̻̘̰̽̅p̷̼͈͍̰̞̔̄̾̑̈́͒̉̕̕͠i̶̡̱͉̣͕͇͈̳̼̓̐̔̔̑̈́ͅs̶̻̜̻̥̪͔̹̺̥͓̲͂̈́̒̅̀̐.̴̨̛̯͕͆͛̊̈̎̈́̈́͛̕̚ͅ

It's probably really hard to read but!! Made a dualie type based on pez dispensers

Also 'Spoolies was short for something and I forgot what it originally was entirely...

Ghostie designs :>

Just came up with these after looking into some short folklore on them and such, some are just more original ideas

Old octoling OC that's also relevant to a future project eventually, we'll see when I finally have something to show off for that

Book designed her originally btw

Crossover drawings are always a lot of fun, so here's Genny from Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia in Marie's outfit!

My favorite moment from the Splatoon Movie was when Agent 4 said "I'm gonna goober" and goobered all over the place

Once again Cross and B-Side are related to @crossthesplatside for whenever we work on it more. Gotta love how the creative mind jumps away from projects right when you finally start making them public!!

Redesign of an old witch OC of mine

Didn't turn out great but I messed around with an ASCII TV-head face

Once again related to posts for days 8 and 9, something might eventually come from this project. A webcomic maybe.

EXTREME YURI ATTACK!!! AGENT24AGENT24AGENT24 GRAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH

Drummer for Fanstasticbook's custom splatband!

Bad endings💔

...A little too intense for comfort, Sunny. Might wanna just work on completing Kettles.

Candle half based on the design of Paraffin in Terraria's Split mod

Corrupted lamia kinda Terraria related. Bit horrific so I'm sorry if it's unsettling to anyone.

Goober interaction (Marie stole the lollipop from Cal I can't believe she's done this)

Final day will be in a separate post 'cause I reached the 30 image attachment limit...

#splatoon #agent 8 #splatoon fanart #oc #oc art #neo agent 3 #agent 24 #terraria #fanart #agent 3 #captain 3 #splatoween #ultrakill #fire emblem #pepsi man #WhateverIFeelLiketober2023 #Thanks for reading through all this chaos! I hope it was enjoyable :)

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scaramarii · 7 months

Text

"Like they were dead stars"

FANFIC TIME WOOOOOO

this is a wip

*** means different chapter. The pov may change. It isn't limited to Leo and Jason lol

● means new event

title is actually a reference to how one character is described and how i'll end the fic

TW: death, swearing, child ab*se, underage drinking, my bad attempt at graphically describing gruesome shit (y'know, maybe i should make an ao3 account)

***

Leo hadn't meant to get himself stuck in a different dimension. He most certainly did not mean to mess with a magical book (who the hell puts a magical book where innocent demigods can reach it?). And he did not mean to get kidnapped by a bright pink and blue dragon and its rider, who seemed to be attached to their cloak and mask.

"So..." Leo tried to think of something to say. "Do you normally kidnap random demigods?"

The rider shook their head, but provided no other answer.

"Antisocial much?"

They sighed, took a pad of paper out of their cloak pocket, wrote something, and passed it to Leo. They'd written "fuck yourself."

"Okay, you don't like to talk. That's fine. But you don't need to be like that!" Leo could tell that they were grinning under that mask.

The dragon aimed itself downward, and landed on cool blue grass. Its rider slid off and offered Leo a hand. He pushed it away and fell off of the dragon.

***

"Woah." Leo stared at the house in front of him. It was black, with a slight multicoloured glow to it. The biggest window was shaped like an eye, and was stained green and blue.

The dragon person looked at Leo and shrugged. It's not as impressive as its library, they signed, tilting their head.

"Still cool."

They flipped Leo off.

●

Leo's captor/random person dragging him to a random house in the middle of nowhere knocked on the door.

"Hi!" The person who answered had curly white hair, vitiligo, and moth antennae. He was wearing a pastel blue sweater and blue jeans.

"You look cool," Leo blurted.

The guys blood red eyes had a soft kind of look to them. "Thanks." He looked at the dragon guy. "Who's your friend?"

Leo could practically feel the person rolling their eyes.

His name is Leo, they signed. How did they know his name? He hadn't told them.

"Oh." The moth person smiled at him. "I'm Silk."

"Hi, Silk." Leo had a feeling that Silk was the type to get jealous.

"Silk, let those two in," someone said from inside.

"Sure."

As Leo walked inside, he tripped over a shoe, and would've fallen on his face if the person who'd practically kidnapped him hadn't caught him. "Thanks."

A woman who looked like Reyna but more athletic looking and taller and with pointy ears and a burn scar under her eye poked her head around the corner. "Hi."

Hey Raine, Leo's companion signed.

"Who's that?" Raines ears twitched.

Before his kidnapper person could sign anything, Leo elbowed them. "My name's Leo."

"Well, welcome to Terria, Leo. I'm sure Myst randomly kidnapping you gave you a good look at this hellhole."

"Mist?"

"M-y-s-t. That's not his real name, but everyone calls him that when people who don't know him are around. Also, please take off your shoes."

"Okay."

***

Jason couldn't believe that he'd done that. Flying on a dragon? That wasn't new. But randomly kidnapping his friend? That was.

"Something tells me that you're gonna be stuck here for a while." Raine picked at her jeans. "I guess I could let you stay here for a bit."

"Okay then," Leo said, standing awkwardly.

Raine poured herself a glass of wine. "Make yourself at home. If you make a mess, clean it up. If you break something, that's fine, and Silk, for fucks sake, stop glaring at Leo."

Jason slipped out the door, and took off his mask. He glared at its stupid smile, and attempted to crumple it up. Of course, that just made his hand hurt, so he threw it to the ground and stomped on it instead. "I'm so fucking stupid," he grumbled as he trudged through the woods. "I should've just left him alone. I shouldn't have done anything." Jason started cursing in Latin. His voice was full of resentment. "I messed this up. If he finds out, he's gonna hate me."

"Do you need a moment?"

Jason flinched. Silk was standing behind him. "Uh, kinda?"

Silks antennae twitched. Jason couldn't help but find him a little attractive, but that didn't mean anything. "Alright then." Silk slashed his hand across the air, and disappeared.

Jason sighed. It was bad enough that he'd come back to life in a different world. He didn't need to lose his friend. Well, he didn't know if friend was the right word. I'll figure things out. LATER.

●

When Jason got back to the house, Silk was interrogating Leo.

"How did you get here?"

"Book."

"Why would you mess with a book?"

"I have no fucking idea. Oh hi Myst."

Jason refrained from telling Leo the truth. It's not gonna hurt to hide something from him, he thought. Jason waved and ran upstairs.

***

Within the span of two hours, Leo had:

Messed with a magical book.

Got transported to a dimension called Terria.

Been kidnapped by a person named Myst.

And interrogated by a moth person.

Not as weird as some other things that had happened to him, but still weird.

While Myst was running through the woods and being a menace, Raine had given Leo a history lesson on Terria, and how his very existence was a crime and shit like that. He had a feeling that she'd get along with Annabeth.

"So, demigods are illegal here," Raine had said.

"Huh?" Leo had been confused, because he'd never heard of a law against demigods.

"Basically," Raine had waved her hand around as if to add a border to her statement. "Terrian demigods are way too powerful. The monarchy was scared of being overthrown. So they made a law to kill all Terrian demigods on sight."

"But I'm not Terrian."

"Humans can't tell the difference, and no one actually follows that law. I'm proof of that."

That had been the end of the history lesson. Afterwards, Raine had led him to the room where he'd be staying, and left him alone.

The only thing on Leo's mind was Jason. Jason fucking Grace. He'd found his way into Leos heart and stayed there, despite him being dead. It didn't help that he'd broken up with Calypso just last week.

Suddenly, a paper airplane hit Leo on the head. He looked up. Myst was standing in the doorway.

You okay? Myst may not have been talking, but he managed to convey his concern. He still had that creepy mask with the weird smiley face and his black cloak on, despite it being like 70 degrees in the house.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why are you suddenly being so nice?"

Myst shrugged and left the room. Weird, but okay. Leo had so many questions, but he had a feeling that Myst would just flip Leo off.

***

Jason sighed as he sulked in his room. He hated not knowing what day it was, or even what month it was.

Ah yes. The consequences of my actions. How nice. Whatever. Complaining wasn't going to do anything.

He wanted to despise whoever brought him back, but he couldn't bring himself to hate them. He had no idea what their intentions were.

Jason stared out his window at the starry sky, the moons shining brightly. He sighed, and went to sleep. Almost immediately, he was plunged into a nightmare.

●

He was only two when it happened. He only remembered all the details because of how horrible it had been.

Jasons mother had just gotten home from a long work day. She was not in a good mood, as usual. Just 30 minutes before, Jason had tried to eat a stapler, and she was not happy about it.

"WHY WOULD YOU TRY TO EAT A GODDAMN STAPLER?!" Beryl Grace yelled, her face twisted with rage.

"I-I'm sorry," Jason said, his vision blurry with tears, and the cut on his lip throbbing.

"Do you think I raised you to be an idiot?" His mothers voice was deathly calm. "Do you think I had you just for you to pull this shit?"

Jason tried to respond, but his voice failed him.

"You piece of shit. You want me to look bad, don't you? What kind of mother would let her kid hurt himself?"

Jason vigorously shook his head. "I'm sorry!"

His mothers fists clenched, she grabbed the collar of Jasons shirt, and threw him to the ground. "Get out of my sight. I don't want to see you until dinner."

"But-" Jason had started to get choked up again.

"Are you talking back to me?

"N-no!"

Beryl grabbed a glass on the counter, and threw it at her son. It sailed over Jasons head and shattered against the basement door behind him.

●

Jason woke with a start. He was shaking, and tears were already streaming down his face. The scar on his lip stung as if he'd just gotten it.

"It was just a memory. I'm fine. There's nothing to worry about." Jason tried to comfort himself, but his words sounded like lies. He felt a lump in his throat as he tried to calm himself down. Deep breaths, deep breaths. Everything is okay. That is definitely not a lie.

"Shut up me." Jason couldn't help but feel a little scared. He didn't like feeling so vulnerable in a place where he was supposedly safe. He'd had dreams like that before, but who could he talk to? He wasn't able to tell anyone. He was supposed to be strong, and he couldn't show fear. And at Camp Jupiter, they saw feelings as weaknesses. Anyone who was expressive and emotional would be shamed, no matter what was going on. So Jasons only way of coping was destroying small insignificant things. Notebooks, boxes, pencils, etc. It didn't help, but it was all he could do.

Rain started to fall from the sky, with no warning whatsoever. That had been happening whenever Jason got moody. He started whispering the words "I'm fine" over and over again, like a chant.

Lightning flashed.

Thunder rumbled.

The rain got heavier.

And soon, Jason could barely hear his own thoughts over the pouring rain.

***

Leo woke to the sound of thunder and rain. He sat up and checked the time. It was 5:32 in the morning. Leo realized that he'd already forgotten what day it was. When had he gotten here? Oh right. July 22nd.

He got out of bed and snuck into the hall, making as little noise as possible.

Suddenly, he heard a familiar voice, saying "I'm fine" over and over again like a chant. It was hard to hear over the rain, but he knew who it was.

Leo tip-toed over to where the voice was coming from, and knocked on the door.

Leo could hear cursing in a different language after a moment of silence. Eventually, Myst opened the door.

"Jason, I know that it's you."

Myst looked around, and then pointed to himself.

"Bitch, who else would I be talking to?" Leo reached up and snatched Jasons mask, his hood falling off.

Jason looked almost unrecognizable. He was thinner, paler, his hair was longer with some darker strands, and his ice blue eyes had a dim look to them, as if they were dead stars. The only things Leo could recognize were the scar on his lip, and the quiet sadness in his eyes. He looked as if something had scared him.

"Hey." Jasons voice was hoarse. He did not seem to be in the mood to talk.

"When did you come back?"

Jason winced. "I... kind of lost track of time..."

"Well, so you don't forget, it's July 23rd."

Jason looked bewildered. "Well shit."

"What?"

Jason inhaled. "I MISSED OUT ON PRIDE MONTH."

Leo couldn't help but laugh. "Dude, you died and came back to life, and that's what you're worried about?"

"Shut up, Valdez."

***

Jason rapped his fingers against the cool metal bedframe. He couldn't dwell on old memories. It would just break him.

Just focus on the rain, he thought. It'll make you feel better. So obviously, he focused on anything but the rain.

Something about his mother made him anxious. He knew she was dead, he'd even seen her ghost. But just the memory of her sent him into to fight or flight mode. He'd been seeing her in his dreams ever since she'd abandoned him. Jason used to joke about why his mom had left him, but that got him one too many looks of concern or pure disgust.

Suddenly, there was a knock on his door. Jason attempted to regain his composure, but ended up cursing in Latin as he threw his cloak and mask on.

When he opened the door, Leo was standing there. Jason didn't know why, but something about the other boy made him anxious. Jason wasn't scared of Leo, but something about that guy made him feel slightly panicky, and he had a strange urge to kiss him on the lips.

"Jason, I know that it's you." Leos chocolate brown eyes had a glint to them, almost like he was trying to drag all of Jasons secrets out of their hiding place.

Jason looked around and then pointed to himself. He knew Leo was talking to him, but he wanted to waste as much time as possible before Leo could pull off the mask.

"Bitch, who else would I be talking to?" Leo then snatched the mask off of Jasons face, making his hood fall down in the process.

Shit shit shit shit shit. Jason felt even more panicked. I'm gonna say something stupid. Gods fucking damn it. "Hey." He tried to sound happy, but clearly, his voice had other plans.

Leo stared up at him, a stunned expression on his face. Jason probably looked like a mess, but he didn't care. He hadn't looked in the mirror in... well, he didn't know.

"When did you come back?" Leos tone make Jason wince.

"I..." He tried to shove that panicky feeling down, but just made it worse. "...kinda lost track of time..."

"Well, just so you don't forget, it's July 23rd."

Jason took a moment to process that. "Well shit."

"What?"

He inhaled, deciding that saying something dumb was better than freaking out right in front of Leo. "I MISSED OUT ON PRIDE MONTH."

Leo laughed, filling Jasons chest with even more of that panicked feeling.

"Dude, you died and came back to life, and that's what you're worried about?"

"Shut up Valdez."

Leo grinned. "Something's telling me that you missed me."

Jason looked away. "No... I actually enjoyed being away from you." He had a feeling he was blushing.

"Why is your face so red?"

Jason suddenly felt overwhelmed. He was panicking, wondering if he would slip up and admit his feelings to Leo. "NO IT ISN'T," he yelped, and slammed the door.

●

Jason set the hair dryer down. "I am so going to regret this later." He sighed, and left the bathroom.

When he entered his room, Leo was there, arms crossed.

"Did you eat anything?" Leo sounded unbelievably stern.

Jason once again felt a little panicked as he tried to respond, but no sound came out. He settled on shaking his head.

"So you would rather dye your hair pink than than eat something."

"Uhhh," Jason said. He couldn't figure out what to say without sounding stupid. (And he'd dyed his hair red, not pink.) He decided to just use sign language. Sorry that my priorities are off, he signed, earning an amused grin from Leo.

Leo rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Just go get food," he said, tapping his leg.

Jason shrugged. Fine.

***

Leo attempted to build up the courage to confront Jason about why he'd slammed the door on him, but he was even more confused about why Jason had looked so shaken. It could've been a bad dream, or a memory, or...

"Leo."

Leo looked up from his little invention that he'd been disassembling and rebuilding over and over again. "Yeah?"

"Okay, you're alive." Raine closed the door.

Leo still couldn't get over the fact that she was 6'2. How did she survive without hitting her head against doorframes? And who decided they were called doorframes? And why was it called a door?

Leo smacked the side of his head. He looked at the thing he'd made. It just looked like a mess of metal and gears with a handle. In other words, it looked like shit.

●

The day went by quickly. Jason had been interrogated by the demon known as Silk Erdmann about how he and Leo knew each other. Raines girlfriend had visited. And Jason had burned himself while making mac n cheese.

Leo stared at his room. It felt weird to be in a different world where the sky was orange and there were three moons.

A knock on his door startled him.

Leo opened it, and Jason was waiting with... wait, was that Nico?

"Hey Leo." Jason nudged Nico.

"Hi." Nico did not seem to appreciate Jason doing that, and pushed him away.

"Sooo, uhhh..." Leo really had no idea what to do. "Come in I guess?"

Jason practically dragged Nico in. "Nico needs better people skills," he said.

"No."

"Oh shut up."

Leo snickered. "So, what's up?"

"Nothing much." Nico picked at his nails.

Jason smirked. "Guess what I got," he said in a sing-song voice.

"Oh for fucks sake Jason, stop talking like that."

"What do you have?" Leo tilted his head and pulled on a strand of his hair.

Jason reached into his backpack and pulled out a bottle of liquor. He grinned mischievously.

"Oh my gods. Jason, why do you have that?" Nico raised an eyebrow.

"No questions!" Jason looked impossibly close to laughter.

"Something tells me that one of us is gonna get drunk and pass out." Leo drew a circle on the floor with his finger. "Spoiler alert, it's not me or Nico."

Jason laughed. "Oh please. I'm better than that."

"Do you two want to be left alone? Because I can leave if you want."

"Nico, shut up." Jason playfully pushed Nicos shoulder.

"Not until you tell Leo."

"Tell me what?"

"It's nothing." Jason smiled, but there was something off about it. Almost like he was anxious about something.

●

It turned out that Leo was right about Jason getting drunk and passing out.

Leo found a pack of UNO cards under his bed. "How 'bout we play UNO?"

"What the heck is that?" Jason and Nico asked in unison.

"Nico has an excuse to not know what it is, but how have you never heard of it?"

Jasons face reddened. "The wolves weren't exactly sitting down and playing cards."

Leo explained the rules to him and Nico, holding back laughter as Jason asked more and more questions. "Can you explain that again?" "What the heck does that mean?" "Why do you have to say that?"

After what seemed like millennia, they finally understood what the game was about. Nico was constantly winning, with Jason jokingly insulting himself. After Nico won for the fifth time in a row, Jason started laughing until his face was red and he was lying down and covering his face.

"There is no way you're already drunk." Leo tilted his head at Jason.

In one quick move, Nico snatched up the bottle, only to discover that it was emptier than it should have been. "Jason. Did you seriously just drink over half of this shit?"

Jason grinned sheepishly. "Maybe?"

"Oh my fucking gods." Nico shook his head in exasperation.

"I have a problem." Jason said "problem" like how Wall-E said anything. He started giggling. Jason Grace, son of Jupiter, former praetor of Rome. Giggling. Leo hadn't heard of anything so strange.

Jason sat up and leaned against Leo. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. He tried to calm his breathing. He's drunk. It probably doesn't mean anything.

Nico raised an eyebrow. "Something tells me he likes you."

Jason made a weird sound in the back of his throat. "Noooo I don't," he said.

"Dude, you're drooling."

"No I'm not," Jason said, clearly drooling. He nestled his head in the crook of Leos neck.

"Should I leave?" Nico had a glint of amusement in his eyes.

"If you want, I guess." Leo ran his fingers through Jasons hair.

Nico smiled, then winced as if smiling caused him physical pain. For all Leo knew, it probably did. "I'll leave you two be." Nico stood up, and left the room.

Afterwards, there was a moment where Leo wanted to kiss Jason on the forehead, but he wouldn't appreciate that. Suddenly, Jason spoke.

"Mmmmmmmmmleo."

Leo looked at Jason. "Yeah?"

"Leo." Jason said Leos name like it was the most important thing in the world.

"What is it?"

Jason waited for a few moments. "I love you."

"W-what did you say?" Leo felt slightly panicked.

"I love you, Valdez." Leo could tell that Jason was smiling.

"I..." All this time, Jason had liked him? Then again, it could've just been him saying things randomly. "Jason?"

Jason did not respond.

"Dude."

Still no response.

Leo rolled his eyes, moved, so Jason was lying on the floor, and looked at the blueprint he'd sketched out a week prior. He turned on the lamp on his desk, bathing the room in a dim orange light. As he was about to sit down, he heard Jason mutter something about cats in his sleep. Leo decided to give him a blanket.

He stared at the notes he'd jotted down. Leo had been in a rush when making it, so his handwriting was messy. The blueprint was a smaller version of Festus, but without all the pointy and dangerous bits, so Harley would be able to play with something other than the tools scattered around the Hephaestus cabin. Maybe I can use this in a different way... Leo had a feeling that the brightly coloured dragon in the yard would want a friend.

"Hey Jason?" Leo said it loud enough to wake Jason up.

Jason groaned. "Whaaaaat." His tone made it sound like Leos voice had interrupted a nice dream.

"What's the dragons name?"

Jason grumbled something about Leo being annoying. "Her name's Mochi." He passed out again. Leo rolled his eyes.

He carefully dragged Jason into the bed. The floor wasn't very comfortable, and Jason would probably wake up with a neck cramp and a hangover if he stayed on the floor.

Leo then realized how weird that sounded. "Shit. Percy's a horrible influence." He brushed the thought aside and started working on the dragon.

As he worked, his eyelids felt like lead. Leo had to force them open so he wouldn't fall asleep. Eventually, that failed, as when he was done with the mini dragons skeleton, he barely managed to move it out of the way before he passed out.

***

The first thing Jason was aware of was his splitting headache. The next thing was that he didn't remember falling asleep in a bed. He sat up, feeling slightly dizzy. He hadn't had any nightmares, which made him uneasy. It was like the calm before a storm.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead." Leo was leaning against the doorframe, an amused grin on his face.

Jason stared at him. He suddenly realized that he was in Leos room. Meaning he was in Leos bed. "Did you-?" He couldn't finish the thought.

Leos expression went from grinning to amused surprise. "The floor isn't really the best place to fall asleep." His warm brown skin, chocolate brown eyes, and elfish features made Jason feel like fireworks were going off in his chest.

"Ummm..." Jason hoped his face wasn't red.

"Are you okay? You look like you're about to pass out."

Jason got up quickly, only to stumble. He blinked the spots out of his eyes. "I'm fine."

Leo snickered. "Yeah, okay Sparky."

"I haven't heard that in a while." Jason suddenly felt a rush of adrenaline. "Did I say anything weird last night?"

Leo looked away. "No, you just sounded crazy."

"Leo."

"Shut it."

"Repair boy."

"Fuck yourself."

Jason had the urge to say "only if you watch," but he refrained from saying it.

"Cat got your tongue?" Leo asked smugly.

"Ha! In your dreams!"

●

Raine needed time to scheme, so Leo, Nico, and Jason got the house to themselves. For some reason, Nico decided that he was just going to pace around and periodically look out the window, as if he was nervous about something.

"Dude, why are you acting so weird?" Leo pulled a wrench out of his tool belt and started to spin it like a pencil.

Nico looked at Leo like he'd just set off a bomb. "It's nothing."

Jason tried to tune them out. It wasn't like he didn't want to hear them talk, it was just that he had a headache, and everything seemed louder than normal. He grabbed a pair of headphones off the coffee table.

Of course, trying to tune everything out was a mistake.

After a few moments, Jason heard a crash. He jumped up, tossed the headphones onto the couch, and rushed to where the noise came from.

When he got there, Leo had a look of shock on his face.

"What-?" Jason then looked at Nico.

Nico seemed to have been hit by a vase. The right side of his face was bleeding. There were ceramic shards scattered across the floor. He sat up, clearly dazed.

"Oh gods!" Jason grabbed Nico by the shoulders. "Are you okay?" Dumb question, but he wasn't really thinking.

"Yes?" Blood dripped from Nicos mouth.

"No you aren't. Leo, make sure he doesn't die."

"O- Okay," Leo stammered.

Jason rushed to his room. When he'd come back to life, he'd been messed up so badly that it made it possible for him to use technology without attracting monsters. Of course, it also messed up his ability to fly. He grabbed his phone and called Raine.

"Pick up, pick up, pick up." Jason felt a surge of adrenaline and a lump forming in his throat as he looked at the phone.

After what felt like hours, Raine picked up. "What's going on?"

"A vase fell on Nicos head and I don't know what to do," Jason said, his heart pounding.

"Did it break?"

"Yeah."

Raine cursed in Terrian. Jason was pretty sure she'd just cursed her mothers name. "I'll be there in a second." She hung up.

Jason quickly put down the phone, and ran downstairs. Nico was sitting down, holding a wet paper towel on his face. Leo was pacing around, clearly confused on what to do.

"I called Raine. She'll be-." Before Jason could even finish his sentence, Raine just appeared without any warning.

"Jason, clean up the mess that the vase left. Leo, you help him. Nico, I might have to knock you out."

Nico shrugged. "I've done that to myself before."

"I'm not even gonna ask."

Jason grabbed a broom and paper towels. "Leo, come on." Jason grabbed Leos hand and dragged him over to where the vase hit Nico.

***

After that mess, Raine left the house after making sure Nico would be okay. That left Jason and Leo alone.

Jason was clearly upset by what happened. He was fidgeting, and picking at his gloves. Leo didn't blame him. He was also shaken from what happened. But there was still one thing he couldn't understand. When the vase had hit Nico, it looked like someone had thrown it.

"Did- did you see exactly what happened?" Jason resorted to tapping his leg.

"No, I didn't." Leo glanced at Jason, attempting to avoid staring at his lips.

"Alright," Jason said, his voice shaky. Then, the unthinkable happened. Tears filled his eyes, streaming down his face. He buried his face in his hands, sobbing.

Leo flinched at that. He couldn't remember ever seeing Jason cry. Sure, he occasionally got teary-eyed, but those moments never lasted long enough for anyone who wasn't studying his face closely enough. And Leo had experience with staring at Jasons face.

"I should've been paying attention!" Jason sounded like a dying cat. He started yelling some things in a language Leo didn't recognize. He assumed that the other boy was cursing.

"Jason." Leo waited for Jason to calm down.

He just kept sobbing.

"Jason." Leo put a hand on his shoulder. "What's been bothering you?"

Jason looked at Leo. "What- what do you mean?" he asked through tears.

"When I found out you'd come back, you sounded like you were trying to calm yourself down after something. What was it?"

Jason looked around. "I- well- it's just- I had a nightmare," he stammered.

Son of a bitch. "I've both seen and heard you after nightmares, and you do not act like that. Tell me the truth."

Jason had a look of shame and embarrassment on his face. "It was about my mom." He sniffed. "But... that's not everything."

"What do you mean?"

"I... well, you'd make fun of me."

"No, I wouldn't. Tell me."

Jason took a few deep breaths. "Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm sure." Leo looked Jason dead in the eyes. Jason seemed to be shaking.

"Oh my gods..." Jason looked at his feet, as if he was ashamed for what he was about to say. "Leo... how do I say this? You take up half of my thoughts. You... well, you're you. And I know you don't feel the same way, but..."

Leo knew where this was going. But he wanted to hear more of what Jason had to say.

"But I need to tell you this. I can't keep this to myself anymore." Jason took a deep breath.

"What is it?"

"I love you."

"That sucks for you," Leo blurted out.

Jason groaned. "Someone kill me." He smacked his forehead.

Leo felt like screaming, crying, laughing, and or smacking Jason in the face all at the same time. He had a feeling he needed time to himself so he could set himself on fire without burning the house down.

"Leo?" Jason didn't look at him. "You okay?"

Leo bit the inside of his cheek. "Yeah. I- well- I like you too." His nose caught on fire, and he quickly patted the flames out. "But, I feel like it's a little too soon to actually start dating. I literally just broke up with Calypso."

"Oh." There was a hint of jealousy in his voice. Jason had always seemed a little weird when Leo talked about Calypso, but he'd dismissed it as him wondering why his relationship with Piper didn't work out the way Leo and Calypsos had.

Mochi suddenly poked her head through an open window. She snorted, looking at Jason.

Jason sighed as he got up. He walked towards Mochi, and set his hand on her snout. "Hey, Mochi." He scratched her chin, and she purred like a cat.

Mochi snatched Jason up by his hood. She tossed him outside, and shut the window with her tail.

***

Jason face planted on the grass when Mochi tossed him outside. He sat up, brushing a few leaves out of his hair. He heard the window snap shut, and Mochi nuzzled his head with her snout.

"Hey, Mochi." Jason mustered a smile.

Mochi smacked him in the face with her right wing.

Jason flinched away, and snickered. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry! I won't leave you alone for that long again!" A puff of smoke escaped Mochis nostrils. She snorted, a proud expression on her face.

Jasons smiled faded. He scratched Mochi under her chin. It felt like there was soap in his eyes. He blinked more tears away, holding back a sob. Nico could have been okay if Jason had been there. He wanted to melt away into a lonely puddle, remembering the gash the vase left on Nicos face. Best case scenario, he'd be blind in his right eye permanently.

Mochi sniffed at Jasons face, and curled up beside him. What's wrong? she seemed to be asking.

Jason forced a laugh, and buried his face in his hands. He groaned, and wished he could go back to when he'd been disguising himself. "Myst" seemed less like Jason and more like another life. Hell, it kind of was.

Mochis head suddenly snapped up. She snarled, smoke curling from her nostrils.

"Is something wrong?" Jason stood up, scanning the area. He didn't see anything other than trees and glowing blue soul flowers.

He then heard a sound like a twig snapping. Jason slowly drew a dagger from his belt, careful to not drop it.

He silently approached the woods, gesturing for Mochi to stay put. Jason paused as he heard bushes rustling. He turned in the direction the noise was coming from, and gripped his dagger tightly. He dashed into the forest, hoping he wouldn't get lost again.

●

Jason hopped over a log and hit his ankle, cursing in Latin at the sudden pain. He paused to look around, listening for any sudden noises. All he could hear were crickets chirping and the sound of those strange creatures he'd found on his first day in Terria.

#valgrace #jason grace #leo valdez #valgrace fanfic #fanfic #what's a fanfic if you don't torture people?#jason grace x leo valdez #RUIN THEIR LIVES >:D #gay lil demigods <33 #i think i have a pacing issue but honestly i don't care at the moment #i def will in the future but i just dont fucking care rn #I SWEAR SILK ISNT GONNA BE JEALOUS THE WHOLE FIC #HE GETS CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT #current wip

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