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bambikisss · 3 months

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Freaky : C.San x S.Mingi

💕: Rockstar Guitarist! Mingi x Model Reader x Rockstar drummer! San

📙: You were invited to Milan for fashion week and end up sitting in between two members of the world's biggest rock group ATEEZ, who also seem to have a thing for you: both of them.

⚠: Unprotected sex (keep it wrapped), threesome (mmf), Spit, oral (m + f receiving), dumbification (reader), multiple rounds, all over the hotel room lol, pink haired mingi, cocky san + mingi, mention of trying anal, mentions of voyeurism, smut with a hint of plot in the beginning

Bambi's notes: So, this was a journey to write, so you know that means smut without much plot lol this is for my sangi fans, because who wouldn't want to be sandwiched between San and Mingi?

Song: Freak - a - Leek by Petey Pablo, Slow down by Chase Atlantic

Taglist: @xhexy @mingisprincess @yeosangiess @itsvxlentine @biancaness @sanhwalvr @haebaragisworld @s-h-y-a @imgenieforyou-boy @therealcuppicake @certifiedmoa @scarfac3

@kitty4hwa @conwunder @wisejudgedragonhairdo @frobin4ever

REBLOGS + COMMENTS ARE WELCOMED AND ENCOURAGED

Milan, Italy.

You had been invited to participate in fashion week among the various other stars that attended the event. You were one of the people who reporters and other paparazzi were excited to see. You were one of the world's most popular models, after all: you were on the covers of multiple magazines and were the face of many brands.

So you were used to the flashing lights of the paparazzi and the reporters trying to pull you for an interview. You didn't mind, though, actually enjoying it.

"Y/N! Look over here please!"

You smiled, turning the other way so that the many cameras could capture your back and your face from a new angle. You were dressed to the nines and you were happy that everyone liked your outfit, especially since the designer was a good friend of yours.

You were soon escorted to your seat, having a front-row seat on the bright white runway you had grown used to walking on. You crossed your legs as you looked down at the various freebies the fashion show gave you, looking through the bright blue bag with interest in hopes of making the time flow by faster. You always found that just watching the show wasn't as interesting as walking was.

However, while you were so focused on your bag, you didn't notice the reporters and many paparazzi outside screaming and rushing at a long black limousine. The windows were darkly tinted, not allowing anyone to peek inside at the two stars who arrived. There had been rumors about two surprising stars attending the show tonight, but no one knew who. And now with the door opening, everyone got to get pictures of the stars.

"Mingi, San, can I pull you into an interview?"

San raised an eyebrow at the reporter before tapping Mingi's back, pointing to the interview area before whispering into his ear "Let's just do one interview like HongJoong said to."

Mingi rolled his eyes behind his dark sunglasses, not happy about having to do an interview. Mingi just wanted to hurry up and take pictures then get to his seat; he was all for attention and good press, but the flashing lights tonight were too much.

Mingi and San were part of the world-renowned boy band "ATEEZ," the rock band that took the world by storm almost 3 years ago. Now, they were at the top of their game, but that also meant that they had to attend events like these. Usually, HongJoong, Seonghwa, and Yeosang would go to events like these, but they all were too busy to fly out, so that left Mingi and San to go as the others were also busy.

You had just placed your bag back down underneath your chair filled with goodies when you noticed the men approaching you, their custom-tailored suits giving your mind a perfect image of what could be underneath.

While you were checking them out, San and Mingi were doing the same thing, their eyes shamelessly checking you out as they moved to their seats that were on either side of you. Even though Mingi was wearing shades and you were facing forward, you could feel their eyes on you, undressing you as the last stars took their seats. You wanted to ask them questions, but you didn't know how to take their sudden attraction to you.

"Can you three move closer for a picture?" Your mental turmoil was interrupted by the photographer who looked at you hopefully. You nodded, feeling Mingi's hand slide behind your back as he moved closer to you. You silently gasped as San did the same, both of the men's hands on your bare back, their fingers feeling anywhere they could as they smiled for the picture.

"What's your name?" Mingi was now whispering into your ear as the photographer scurried away, the lights dimming as the show was about to begin. Your first attempt at responding was cut off by your silent gasp as both men's hands slowly moved down your back, their hands now resting dangerously low on your back, a smirk moving onto their lips at the feeling of you subtly arching your back for them.

"Y/N." Your name made San whistle lowly, his voice full of charms as his hand moved up your back, allowing Mingi to touch your lower back while he got to feel your upper back, his hand playing with the clasp on your necklace as he spoke so only you, him, and Mingi could hear. "You're a supermodel, right? I've heard all about you. I think I even own some of your magazines covers. I've always found you so hot, you know."

You felt your body stiffen at his words: He already knew about you? You turned to face San, only for Mingi's hand to grasp your jaw, making you face forward again as he whispered into your ear "You can't be giving San all your attention, Beautiful. You have to share between us, do you think you can handle that?"

When Mingi first asked that question, you were quick to answer yes. You thought you could handle teasing and talking between them both. You had sat around meeting rooms and kept conversations going with multiple people, so what was so hard about keeping conversation with two men?

But, that wasn't what he meant.

"Look up at us, baby girl."

You thought nothing of hanging out with the two rock stars after the fashion show, their lingering touches on your body almost drawing you into them as they walked with you to their limousine with the tinted-out windows. The minute the doors closed, though, their hands returned to your body, not even caring about the driver as they whispered all the things they wanted to do to you, especially together. You spent one part of the car ride on Mingi's lap, meeting his lips in a heated kiss while San bit your neck, leaving marks behind while his hands felt around your body before you switched to his lap, Mingi's lips now busy kissing your open back while San's tongue locked with yours in a heated kiss. They were skilled at riling you up, as if they'd done it before. You wouldn't put it past them, though.

But, now that they had you in their private suite in their hotel on your knees before them on the bed, you felt even more excited. Mingi licked his lips, turning to face San before he nodded his head, moving to get on the bed in front of you. He tilted his head as you turned around to watch San as he sat down in the chair facing the bed, making you feel confused. However, your view of him was pulled away as Mingi made you face him, his thumb moving along your bottom lip as he shook his head. "Don't look at San, babygirl. You have to worry about me first."

You nodded as your lips met Mingi's, the kiss picking up speed as San cursed from his chair, his hand moving to his pants. You couldn't help but kiss Mingi harder at the sound of that plus San unbuckling his pants. Mingi smirked, pulling back as his hands grabbed your wrists, placing your hands onto his own belt as he faced San with a proud smirk. "Seems like our little model likes hearing you, Sannie. I think she's getting excited."

"Oh, I think so Mingi" San rested his head back on the chair with a lazy smile, his hands now palming himself over his boxers as he watched you unbuckle Mingi's pants, your hands tugging away at it. You weren't even listening anymore as you leaned down to kiss and bite on Mingi's thighs as he pushed down his pants, making him hiss before his hand moved into your hair, making you look at him. Mingi didn't say anything, his eyes however showed how he felt though, darkening as he pushed down his boxers to reveal his hard cock. Mingi's hand moved from your hair to your lips, playing around with your lips till he spread them open, spitting into your mouth before humming.

"You're so pretty, babygirl. I can see why you're a model" Your eyes fell to Mingi's lip as he spoke, whimpering softly as he kissed you, both of your tongues meeting as you moaned, making Mingi moan as well. You whined as he pulled back, wanting more of his kisses. Mingi shook his head though, sitting back up as his fist wrapped around his cock, holding it to your lips. You knew what to do, about to dip your head down to taste his hard cock when Mingi's grip on your hair returned, stopping you. Instead, Mingi stood up from the bed, pulling you to the edge before he said "Make sure you get nice and loud for us, baby girl. Show me and San how good you can suck cock, and if you do good, we'll reward you."

You nodded, opening your mouth as Mingi fed his thick cock into your mouth slowly, both of you moaning at the feeling. Mingi felt so heavy, making you feel excited: you were no virgin, but none of the guys you had been with compared to how good Mingi's cock felt, even if it was just in your mouth.

"That's it baby, suck it." Mingi's voice had dropped even deeper, closing his eyes as you moved your tongue around his cock, bobbing your head at the same time, making him moan louder. "You're doing so, so good for me. That's right, take it deeper"

"Look at you, baby" You had been so focused on sucking Mingi and hearing his moans that you had almost forgotten about San, your eyes landing on him as he spoke to you, his cock leaking now as he had stripped himself. You moaned at the sight, the vibrations making Mingi moan loudly before he reached over to smack your ass, cursing that you were doing so fucking good. San chuckled at the sight of you staring up at him while Mingi was now fucking your throat, stretching you out with his cock.

"You must be so good at sucking dick, baby. I mean, you got Mingi short-circuiting and fucking your throat like you're a fleshlight," San laughed, Mingi's cheeks heating up a bit at his friend's teasing, but his pace didn't slow down. Instead, he picked up speed, making you choke. At the sound of you gargling around his cock, both boys moaned before Mingi pulled out to let you catch your breath. However, your break wasn't long before San rolled you over onto your back, straddling your chest as Mingi moved in between your legs.

"Don't look so nervous, baby" San cooed, his hands massaging your breasts as Mingi spread your legs, making you shiver. Suddenly, you closed your eyes and tossed your head back as you felt Mingi's tongue run slowly up your pussy before he moaned around your clit, pulling back to moan "Fuck, San, she's so wet for us. She's so excited."

"You're excited, huh?" San asked, gripping your hair to pull you back up to meet his eyes while Mingi got to work on eating you out, slurping away as his tongue tasted you. You nodded, moaning at Mingi's movements while San cooed again "I bet you are, our little filthy slut. You're a freak, just like us, huh? You acted all innocent when we proposed taking us both like this in the car, but now look at you." San licked his lips as he tightened his grip on your hair, pushing his cock into your mouth as Mingi continued to eat you out, pushing his finger into you.

"Mingi's finger and tongue is going to match the pace you set, baby" San hissed, leaning back with his free hand to place it onto Mingi's shoulder. Mingi looked up from your pussy, his eyes staring into yours as you began to bob your head on San's cock, moaning when his tongue began to match your pace: anytime you sped up, he sped up, and whenever you slowed down, he did the same.

San moaned above you, enjoying the show as he kept a firm grip on your hair and a grip on Mingi's shoulder. "Look at her, Mingi, look at how fucking dirty she is for us. Fuck, I can't wait to fuck that pussy" San had now tossed his head back at this point, knowing that if he watched anymore, he'd cum on the spot. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing his cock down into your throat as deep as he could as you moaned loudly around it, Mingi's tongue mirroring San's cock by shoving his tongue as deep as he could into your pussy. Mingi rolled his eyes back, moaning as your pussy squelched around his tongue, curling his tip to nudge your sweet spot, making your legs shake a bit around him.

San couldn't think about anything else, his hand moving back to grip his pink-haired friend's hair, shoving him deeper into your pussy as you gurgled around his cock, your eyes rolling back as San sped up his pace, watching the drool leak from the side of your lips, now mixing with his cum as he came in your mouth, your legs wrapping around Mingi's head as you came as well.

Mingi cleaned you up happily while San slowly pulled out from your mouth, cooing as you swallowed his cum. Mingi slowly kissed up your body, his hands moving to massage your cheeks as San sat next to you. You felt like you were in a daze, laying your head next to San's knee while Mingi slowly got off the bed. San leaned down to kiss you, praising you for being able to take his cock so well against your lips. You smiled at his praise, moaning his name in the kiss before sitting up.

You sighed as you got off the bed, looking for your clothes while San got off the bed as well. You didn't bother to look at the two men, assuming that they were getting dressed as well. "What do you think you're doing?"

You paused picking up your dress off the ground at Mingi's voice, turning to see him standing by the large windows, his arms behind his back, his cock twitching between his legs as he raised an eyebrow. You bit your lip, noticing how San has returned to his chair, his hand now palming his soft cock. "I thought..."

"You thought wrong, baby." Mingi smirked, tapping the window before he said "I don't know what made you think that, but I still need to cum, especially in that fucking perfect pussy of yours." Mingi walked over to you as he spoke, his hand landing on the small of your back before he pulled you close, his lips pressing against yours as he pulled your clothes from your hand. You were once again at his mercy as he led you to the windows, his hands moving around your curves before he had you face the window. You met his eyes in the reflection, his chest now pressed against your back as his cock moved in between your soft thighs, a proud mumble coming out of his lips as he smacked your ass.

"Don't tease her so much, Mingi. She can barely even stand up" San piped up making Mingi chuckle. He nodded though, pressing a kiss to your cheek before he pushed into your pussy, chuckling when your hands rushed to the window. "There's nothing for you to grab on there, baby" Mingi laughed, his pace speeding up to become one of power as he watched your body jolt forward at every thrust, your sinful moans becoming music to both men's ears.

"Is our baby having trouble thinking and telling us what she wants?" San asked, standing up from his chair to approach where Mingi had you, his hands moving to play with your nipples, tugging on it. He chuckled as you moaned loudly, looking at Mingi as your back arched. "She's so fucked out already, maybe she can't handle more, Mingi"

"No, I can" You protested loudly, Mingi's hand landing a hard spank on your ass while moaning out "Yeah, she can handle more, fuck." You had closed your eyes at this point, your legs almost giving out due to the pleasure.

Mingi chuckled at the sight, pulling out from your pussy as you whined, grabbing your arms to pull you to the coffee table that sat in front of the couch that was in the corner of the suite, pressing your chest down against the cool table as he shoved his cock back into your pussy, both men moaning loudly as your pussy loudly squelched around him. "Your pussy welcomes me back in so loudly, baby. It wants my cock, baby, sucking it in so fucking well."

You nodded, San moving to crouch in front of you, smirking at your already fucked out face.

"I think she needs more, Mingi."

----------------------------------------------------------------

"God you're so fucking greedy."

You could no longer tell who was who as you laid against his hard chest, the other one still fucking deep into your pussy. You and the two men had been all around the room, your body and cum on many different surfaces, making you feel bad for whoever had to clean this room when they checked out.

San was laying against the floor, your body on top of his as Mingi fucked you from behind. You bit your lip as Mingi landed another spank on your ass, spreading apart your cheeks so he could go even deeper into you, his rings leaving imprints on you as you moaned loudly. You were out of your mind at this point, San chuckling at the sight before he said "You're so fucked out, you can't even tell who is who, can't you? You don't know whose cock you're backing up against and whose chest you're drooling onto. You just wanna keep coming until you pass out, don't you?"

"She tightened around me when you said that, San" Mingi moaned, your cheeks heating up as San cooed at you, landing his own smack to your ass as he moaned out "She's a freak, just like us. We should keep her on speed dial and fly her out to us whenever we want. We could buy you some pretty lingerie and make you model it for us. We could even invite the rest of our band members to come watch"

Mingi had lost his own mind a while ago, but at San's words, he felt his cock twitch at the idea, leaning forward to bite down on your shoulder, drilling into your pussy as you moaned even louder, San gripping your face to make you look at him while he continued speaking. "You'd love that, wouldn't you? You don't care how wrong this is, don't you, you like this. Maybe I'll even buy you a pretty custom butt plug and send it to you, make you stretch yourself out so that we both can fuck you at the same time."

"I'm gonnna...I" You gasped out, cuming hard around Mingi's cock as he filled you up, both of your releases coating his cock and leaking from your cunt as he kissed your back, rubbing your sides. You were completely spent, landing on San's hard chest as he ran his hands through your hair, cooing at you.

"You did so well, babygirl. Here, I'll clean you up." San waited till Mingi moved off your back before picking you up, carrying you to the bathroom (where they had fucked you an hour before), placing you onto the toilet before turning the shower on. "Go ahead and use the bathroom, then I'll shower with you."

After the shower, San carried you back into the bedroom, placing you down on the bed as Mingi had put down new sheets. As you lay down in the warm sheets, Mingi and San went to clean up themselves, letting you fall asleep in the bed. You only woke up when you felt Mingi hug you from behind, San slipping in front of you to offer you a smile before placing a kiss onto your lips, Mingi waiting till San stopped before moving your head back to kiss him as well.

The next morning when you woke up, you were no longer sandwiched between the two men, but you were alone. You sat up, running your hand through your hair as you tried to figure out if it was a dream or not. You sighed as you fell back against the bed, grabbing your phone to see a text from your manager letting you know that checkout was in two hours and to start getting ready to fly back to the States soon.

You hummed, giving yourself a few minutes before you stood up from the bed, walking over to your suitcase. However, before you could go shower, you heard a knock at the door, followed by room service being wheeled into your room. The table was full of various fruits and breakfast, a beautiful bouquet of flowers in the center. When you picked up the flowers, you noticed a small card, the words on it making you smile.

'See you soon, baby. We'll be waiting for you ;) P.S: Hope your legs don't hurt too badly. M + S'

EXTRA

"Raise your hips, princess. Show me where you want my cock to go" You bit your lip as you raised your hips, your wetness leaking from your pussy, making Mingi moan. He considered himself addicted to your pussy, constantly wanting nothing more than to shove his hard cock into it and just ruin you. Heck, Mingi had even flown you out over the past couple months to whereever they were performing at to just do that as 'the pictures weren't enough for him.' Not that you were complaining.

You cursed softly as Mingi pushed his cock into you, his lips meeting yours as he picked you up to have your sit on his lap as he fucked up into you, his lips locked with yours.

"I knew I'd find her in here with you" San sighed, walking into the room as you turned from Mingi's lips, offering him a smile as Mingi continued to fuck up into you as he groaned out "you're just mad that you didn't get to her first, man. You had some of her on the plane, anyways. This is my first round with her"

San hummed as he kissed you, his hand moving to play with your breasts as you began to ride Mingi's cock, making him moan louder. "I wasn't complaining, just make sure you don't ruin her too much: I wanna take her outside and fuck her in the pool."

San and Mingi had flown you out to the Bahamas for your birthday, renting a private villa so that no one could see nor hear the three of you as you all went about your ''activities" together.

You bit your lip as you placed your hands onto Mingi's chest to ride him better, San's hands moving to grip your hips to help you as you tossed your head back onto his shoulder, kissing below his jaw as Mingi moaned at the sight. "Fuck, you're going to make me cum already. You learned so quickly how to ride my cock, princess."

"Well," San smirked, meeting your lips in a deep kiss, making out with you as your ground your hips down against Mingi's, San pulling back to make you look at Mingi, gripping your face as he said "She had some really good teachers. Isn't that right, Y/N? All you care about is riding our cocks and making us feel good, don't you?"

Mingi moaned loudly as you nodded, San's smirk growing before he whispered into your ear "then go ahead and make Mingi cum, baby. Then, you're going to sit on his face and we're going to teach you how to take care of both of our cocks at the same time. We've got all week, baby to go all around this villa, and we're not stopping."

Bambikisss | 2024

757 notes · View notes

a-simple-imagine · 4 years

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Run Away With Me

Synopsis: Every moment shared with Charlie Weasley is an adventure all it’s own. How you wish to spend every moment together and all it takes is to run away.

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x fem!reader

Words: 6.3k+

A/N - Every year I post a story on my birthday and today’s the day I turn a year older. Usually these stories are pretty sad but this year I wrote something a little softer so here is my birthday present for you guys, I hope you enjoy it.

1. A Stolen Kiss

A bright-eyed and clueless young student, excited to be attending a school of magic. Nobody else in your family had magic so it was a big surprise when you received a letter alongside a weird lady who looked like she just stepped out of the early 1920s. Sat between your parents, the older woman explained the entire situation much to your excitement and your parents' confusion.

Diagon alley had been your first experience of all things magical; it had been like stepping into another world instead of just any old street in London. There were book shops lined with all kinds of books, some were bigger than your head while others were tiny. A shop that sold weird and kinda gross jars full of who knows what. There was a place that only sold brooms but according to the list you had read like a hundred times, first years weren't allowed their own brooms. You spent what felt like a lifetime at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions getting fitted for robes. Your parents were utterly fascinated by all the different styles and kept asking questions that made the experience so much longer than it really needed to be. You'd never had a pet before, but after a lot of begging they let you pick out a cat; he was a small Persian cat. Not quite a kitten but not quite fully grown. Checking off each item as you went along, you were exhausted by the end of it. There was even enough time for a trip to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour where you had enjoyed a cone of strawberries and cream with sprinkles on top. All that was left on your list was a wand. Peeling gold letters rested over the door of a shop that read: Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. Stepping inside it was a tiny little store with no costumers. Thousands of narrow boxes lined the walls all the way up to the ceiling. It didn't take long for the weird old man to give you a wand that felt warm in your hand. Unlike the other disasters that came at the result of you waving various wands, a stream of red and gold sparks shoot out the end of this one like a mini firework. The wand chooses the wizard whatever the hell that meant. All ready and packed for Hogwarts, you were really giddy to go. Your mother cried as she waved you off to boarding school but you couldn't sit still. The train ride took hours and it was a little lonely considering you didn't know anyone but as soon as you entered the castle you knew it was exactly where you were meant to be. The building was massive and practically oozed magic and mystery through each brick. The pictures, much to your surprise, were moving on their own. Hogwarts had four houses and each student had to sit on a tall stool, put on a funny talking hat which would decide ultimately where they belong.

The very first friend you made was Nymphadora Tonks but only because she was in all of your classes and by some twist of fate you always ended up seated together. She was a sweet girl with pink hair and a talent for mischief. There was never a dull moment with you two. Then there was Charlie Weasley. Ever since that brisk day in October when he had ridden in clumsily on his white horse to save the day, the two of you had been the best of friends. You were still getting used to all your different classes. Potions class, however, was proving the most difficult. Too many ingredients and types to get used to. Not to mention Snape was just... mean. The task had been to prepare a simple Wiggenweld Potion; a powerful healing potion that can be used to heal injuries, or reverse the effects of a Sleeping Draught. The book was open on the desk as you carefully followed the instructions until.... poof. All the confidence you'd gained since arriving disappeared as Snape scolded you in front of everyone for messing up. Charlie had swooped in to take the blame landing himself in late-night detention. On the other hand, you got to leave with your tail between your legs and a few house points shaved off the total. And yet even his small act of kindness wasn't enough to capture your affection at least not at first. For the little version of yourself was infatuated with another Weasley. An older Weasley.

The nerves of a handful of students could be felt by anyone sat in the great hall for breakfast. Tonks is sat beside you running butter over a piece of toast. Stifling a yawn, Charlie takes a seat across from the two of you sporting a jumper of Gryffindor red and gold.

"Good morning," You flash your cheeriest, half-asleep smile bringing your spoon of Cheeri Owls to your lips. "Nervous?"

"A little," He was looking especially pale today suggesting he was more than just a little.

"You should be," Tonks perks up. "It's only the last game of the season and all hope rides on the seeker,"

"No pressure then," Charlie huffs out a dull laugh. The boy excelled in his position as the Gryffindor seeker but there was no way to determine how he'd play today when he was carrying the hopes and dreams of his teammates and entire house.

"You should eat something," You suggest, pushing a bowl of assorted fruit forward. There was little you could to make him feel better except take his spot but that wasn't allowed. You also probably wouldn't be that good. "Might make you feel better?"

"I'm too nervous to eat," He insisted but he still took an apple; rolling the red fruit between his palms.

"Win or lose you're still number one in our heart, right Tonks?" Elbowing her gently, you shovel another spoonful of 'O' shapes into your mouth.

"Sure," she shrugs. "If you want we can jinx the other team's seeker? I've been practising."

"Or... how much time do we have? I can get one of the older students to brew some Felix Felicis." You play along. "Nothing like a little liquid luck to win a game."

"You both know that's not allowed," Charlie took a large bite of his apple.

"When has Tonks ever cared about rules," Sometimes you wish she did care, you probably wouldn't have ended up in detention so many times alongside her.

"Thanks but no," he took another bite. "We have to win fair and square."

The conversation drifted from nerves to lost spells and planned practical jokes. Charlie seemed to relax a little the more he spoke. Maybe all he needed was a distraction to cheer him up.

"We need to take a trip to Hogsmeade" Tonk announces. "I'm out of dungbombs."

"Urgh- you and that silly joke shop." You can't help but roll your eyes but it was all good-natured. Despite hardly ever buying anything yourself, you spent an awful lot of time at Zonko's infamous little joke shop. "I could do with a trip outside the castle though. You should come too Charlie and maybe... you could ask Bill if he wants to come?"

"You're still gushing over Bill," Now it was Tonks turn to elbow you playfully, her lips curling up into a tantalising smirk.

"I do not gush over him," you state firmly, brows knitting together in a frown. You didn't appreciate being made fun. Bill was older, wiser and always made time to show you kindness. He made your little heart flutter whenever you saw him and Tonks took every opportunity to tease you about it. "I just thought It'd be nice is all. Wouldn't you agree, Charlie?"

"If you want him to come, ask him yourself." He responds, taking a large gulp of his juice.

"She won't because she has a crush."

"I don't have a crush Nymphadora- stop it," It was infinitely more embarrassing talking about this with Charlie sat at the table. "Don't ask him then, I don't care."

"Yes you do," Placing her arm around your shoulder, she pulls you into her side. "Because you're in love-"

"I am not!" You snap, pushing out of her grip.

"I'll see you guys later." The two of you share a look as Charlie disappears without another word. It was probably just pregame nerves.

"You know what? I think I'll get some frogspawn soap too and put it in the prefects' bathroom." Typical Tonks.

You'd come to learn through your time at Hogwarts that Quidditch was the most popular sport among wizards. And each house had their own team who compete for a trophy and bragging rights. Today was the final game thankfully. Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. Apparently, it came down to these two a lot. As the Gryffindor team filter out of the changing rooms, you slip inside to find Charlie sitting on a little bench.

"Guess who?" You sing-song, slapping your hands over his eyes but only briefly. He turns to look at you with an almost sour expression.

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to support you," you reply soft, offering a smile he couldn't even see as he turned away.

"You're not supposed to be in here," Had you done something to upset him? Surely not. This was the first time you were seeing him since breakfast so there hadn't been a moment for you to mess things up and yet, his voice held an icy chill.

"Guess Tonks is rubbing off on me?" You jest, looking around the room. It was empty apart from you two. Bags and clothes scattered across benches or half shoved into lockers. A chalkboard stood in the corner with drawings you couldn't understand. "I just wanted to see how you were doing before the big game, is all. We were worried about you."

"You were worried about me," He repeats slowly, looking up at you. "I thought you hated quidditch."

"I still do," Your shoulders rise in a little shrug. "It's silly. Doesn't matter how hard the team works or how many goals it's pretty much all decided by how good the seeker is so why even have goals?"

"Score enough goals before the snitch is caught and anyone could win," He perks up. "You just don't understand how good and exciting it is."

Your lips curl up in appreciation for Charlie Weasley and his love for quidditch. It didn't possess the sparkle that came along when he talks about dragons but it was still nice to see him liven up. "Then go out there and show me how exciting it is,"

You stand under the spotlight of his gaze as he seemingly takes in your choice of attire; wearing the Gryffindor colours with pride to show your support. You even let Tonks paint your face after she promised not to draw genitalia. "Do you really think we're gonna win? What if I mess up and everyone hates me?"

"Then you mess up and everyone hates you," You shrug a little. "But that's not gonna happen and you know why?" His head shakes slowly. "It's because you're the best seeker at this school Charles Weasley." You place your hands on either side of his shoulders. "And I believe in you."

"How does that help me?" With your index finger under his chin, you force him to meet your eyes.

"Because I'm never wrong."

"That doesn't sound right." He tries to look away but you stop him.

"But it is," You offer a reassuring smile; one full of determination. "You've got this Charlie. So come on before you miss the game entirely."

The cheers outside were seemingly growing louder by the second. With a deep breath, Charlie stands up, grabbing his broom. "You're staying to watch, right?"

"Of course. Tonks is up in the stands too." Taking his hand, you lead the way out of the tent. "Consider us your good luck charms." Charlie brings the both of you to an abrupt stop before you even reach the opening of the tent, pulling you back to him. "What's up?"

The peppering of freckles that covered Charlie's face was even more vibrant against the rose pink blush. You squeeze his hand a little hoping it makes him feel better. And then it happens. The crowd grows silent in your ear but only for a moment as Charlie's surprisingly soft lips crash clumsily against yours. "For good luck," his whispers; his hand slipping from yours as he leaves you dumbfounded.

"He okay?" Tonks asks as you return from your trip.

"Yeah... still nervous," You reply, sitting down beside her. "It's his first big game after all."

"Are you okay?" The crowd erupts into cheers as the Gryffindor team flys in first. You're almost too embarrassed to look for Charlie; worried about what you might find so you keep your head down. "You look like you've just seen a troll or something?"

"Mhmm," you hum, forcing yourself to watch the Slytherin team as they enter. Why had Charlie kissed you? Did it mean he liked you or was he just messing around? Your head swirled with possibilities.

"You want a sweet?" Your friend offers as the game finally starts. It takes you a second to register but you smile, reaching into the little bag she was holding only to come to a stop.

"They're not gonna burn my tongue off or something are they?"

"No," Her chuckle sounded a little too innocent but you trust her for some reason. Taking a piece of confectionery out of the paper bag.

"Charlie... kissed me." You announce, throwing the sweet into you mouth; face scrunching up when they turn out to be sour. Ten points to Slytherin as they take the lead.

"He what?"

"He... kissed me."

2. Together

Who was Bill Weasley but a distant playground crush after that day. And your time of classrooms and magic lessons came swiftly to an end; how bittersweet it felt to leave a place you loved dearly. A once naive little girl stepping into the unknown now called the Wizarding World Home. Now you would go on to be a healer which was simply a magical doctor although your parents strongly disagreed with the comparison. However proud they were of you there would always be some part of them that wished you had chosen to become a lawyer or 'real' doctor.

Bathed in the warm embrace of the setting sun, you ponder the tranquility in a bed of green grass. The youngest Weasley lay beside you, struggling to keep still as often children do. She was similar to her brother in that way who now paced back and forth a mere few steps away. The invitation had been for dinner but you arrived a little early. The burrow was always such a welcoming place like stepping into a home you used to live in many moons ago; it was cosy and warm and there was no doubt that many lived there. You found your house to be almost the opposite, it always looked like nobody lived there. Immaculate. Polished. Cold.

"Will you stop pacing, you're making me nervous." You call out to your boyfriend, opening your eyes only to squint at the bright light. "What's wrong with you?"

Charlie comes to a stop as you sit up; Ginny mimics you in sitting up but the boy's eyes stay on you. The longer he stared, the more the pit in your stomach grew; what exactly hid behind his blank expression. He normally possessed such a playful warmth but it seemed to have vanished as of late. Plucking a stray purple flower, you enclose it in the palm of your hands. "You know I love dragons right?"

"Of course," Since meeting him, he had probably managed to slip dragons into every conversation you had ever had. It was at a point where you knew far more about dragons than you ever really cared to know. Many found his obsession annoying because that's what he so obviously was, obsessed but you found it enticing. Charming, even. Opening up your hand, a small butterfly with deep plum-purple wings flutters into the air and onto a giggly Ginny's nose. The innocent glee of a child; how those days were gone for you. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Promise you won't be mad?" It would be foolish to make such a promise when there was no way to guarantee your reaction. Whatever it was must be bad, if he was this worried. Your shoulders rise a little then fall.

"I make no such promises- just tell me."

Charlie took a breath that travelled on the wind to your ears before he blurted out. "I'm moving to Romania."

"Okay," Is your first reaction while your brain tries to make sense of something it didn't want to hear. "Wait- what?"

"Charlie is moving away to work with big scary dragons," Ginny announces playfully, baring her little hands like claws.

The once small pit grew into a mighty black hole of uncertainty and sadness that threatened to swallow you whole. There had been conversations shared between friends of Charlie wanting to move away to a foreign land, just to finally see a dragon but you had never taken it at face value. Always so convinced it was but a dream rather like those of when you were little and you wished to be a vampire. Technically back then you didn't know they actually existed but still, even now it was never going to come true. Eyes cast upon the second eldest Weasley, he kicks up the grass with his hands buried in the pockets of his pants. "It's the nearest Dragon reserve."

That was something you already knew but it didn't make the decision, at least in your eyes, any less confusing. Instead, it prompted water to well up in your eyes for this was something that affected not only him and his family but your life too. "I... I don't know what to say,"

"Hey Ginny, can you go check if dinner's ready yet?"

"No- why can't you do it?" The bark behind her words was very in character for the fiesty young Weasley. Blinking away the tears, you plaster on the best smile you can muster.

"If you go check on dinner I promise we can play a game later, okay? Exploding snap maybe?"

"Really?" She eyes you suspicious probably because it was a promise you had broken before. Not always for the right reasons but this time it was genuine. Charlie clearly wanted this to be a private conversation or perhaps he was just saving you for the inevitable moment where she asks why you're crying. Ginny scrambles to feet when you nod and skips off towards the gravity-defying house. It still amazed you that the building hadn't fallen yet. Rising to your feet you brush yourself off.

"You know I want nothing more than to work with Dragons and this is the only way I can do that," There was no mistaking the serious tone that came along with his words. It didn't matter what you said there was no changing his mind but you wouldn't do that anyway. It seemed cruel to even try to get him to give up on something so precious and you would never want to do that to him. "I have an opportunity to do something I love and I won't waste it to get some boring job at the ministry."

"I don't expect you too..." You wanted nothing more than to tell him to stay; beg him even. You were fighting against the selfish little devil that was stabbing you in the heart. It was a dull, deep pain in your chest. You wanted Charlie to follow his dreams, you just never expected them to not include you. "It's just a lot to take in."

"I know," The red-headed boy walks ever so slowly over to you, taking both hands in his. His hands had always felt a little rough ever since Hogwarts. You used to complain back then and insist he needed to moisturise but over time you had grown fond of the familiarity. How you wished this tender moment could last forever because it very well might be your last. You're caught off guard when he yanks you forward. You stumble into his chest where he wraps his arms around you like the big teddy bear he was. You breathe in every inch of him like it was the last time. The intoxicating aroma of an early walk in the woods; that fresh earthy smell that really makes you appreciate where you are. You could almost picture the pine trees.

"I feel like I'm losing you," Your words but a whisper, lost on the breeze.

"You're not," His grip around you tightens and suddenly your in the air, spinning around. "You could never get rid of me that easily.

"Charlie," You fight back a smile as you return to the ground; burying your face in the nook of his neck. "What's gonna happen to us?"

"About that-"

"Because I don't know if I can do the whole long-distance thing? So do we break up?" The tears threaten to fall once again as you pull back to get a good look at him. You never wanted to forget the emerald of his eyes or each and every freckle that called his body home. The unusual scare that adorned his eyebrow that was always amusing to look at. If that was his true purpose to break up with you then there would be no stopping the tears when they finally burst through the damn.

"No, I-"

"Because that's a little mean Charlie, you could have at least waited until after dinner. Should have done it first actua-"

You words become mumbled by the palm of his hand which he's placed over your mouth like a seal of protection. "Shush for a minute."

It's hard to resist so you simply don't; sticking your tongue you deliberately lick the palm of his hand but it seems to not phase him whatsoever.

"I'm not breaking up with you, silly," You meet his gaze. "I was kind of thinking you could come with me?"

Reaching up, you yank his hand away. "To Romania? You've got to be joking."

"Why not?"

Did you even know how to answer that? There were so many reasons why one should not just up and leave to go live in a completely different country with the boy they dated through high school. "I can't just up and leave my family- my mum will be devastated."

"I'll talk to her about it," Charlie hums softly, placing a delicate kiss upon your forehead. "Your mum loves me and she wants you to be happy."

"Dinner's Ready," For such a small girl, Ginny had one big mouth. There was no mistaking her call. However, this whole situation now felt a little... off. Could you even sit through dinner without it all becoming weird?

"We're coming," Charlie yells back; offering up his hand which you reluctantly take and he leads the way back to the house. "You want to be a healer right? You could do that in Romania."

"I guess," You weren't exactly worried about not finding a job.

"You don't have to decide right now," He tells you before you have a chance to speak up again. "Just think about it. I mean the invitation is there and for what it's worth, I'd really like you to come."

3. Creeping doubts

It took a lot of convincing but despite everything you decided to follow Charlie into the Unknown. Your parents weren't thrilled with the decision but they respected it; they were just worried about what would happen if something went wrong. And as their only child, they would obviously miss you. A lot of time was spent at the burrow that summer before moving to Romania; you were beginning to feel like an honorary Weasley only with the experience of having been a muggle for the first eleven years of your life. It was but a three-hour flight to Romania and your mother had sobbed at the airport. It made you think back to your first time stepping onto the Hogwarts express, leaving your parents behind to go to a magical boarding school in Scotland. It was a peculiar thought but a nice one. One you wished to cherish. Now in a foreign land with no support system behind you other than a boy you had been dating for years, you were ready for a new adventure. And there was officially no doubt in your mind that you would do just about anything for Charlie Weasley.

"It's not much," Charlie sets his suitcase down on the table. "Best I could do, for now, I'm afraid."

"It's fine," It was an old apartment in a building full of what you assumed were muggles. There was a small living room area with an ugly pea-coloured couch nestled against one wall. Beside it was a small coffee table and on the other side of the room was a TV, you weren't convinced actually worked. Then there was the kitchen which was attached to the living room. It had a fridge, a cooker and some cupboards. The only other room was a bedroom that literally only housed a bed in at the moment, then there was a door that leads on to the bathroom. It definitely wasn't much but a crappy apartment was just part of the experience, right? At least that's what you were telling yourself. "it'll feel like home soon enough," You had everything you needed to make this place feel like home right in your suitcase; oh the joys of magic. Patting yourself down, you search for the key to easy unpacking. "Uh... have you seen my wand?"

His head shakes and wears an amused grin. "You remembered to bring it right?"

"Yes," you huff. "I was gonna unpack," Falling back against the wall, you slide down onto the floor which you imagine hasn't been cleaned in a while considering the dust. "It's gonna take so long without my wand- which may actually be in the suitcase now that I think about it."

"Did you forget I'm a wizard too?"

"You do it then," You drop your head back against the wall. "I'm starving."

"actually have you seen my wand?"

You giggle to yourself "You're an idiot,"

"Hey- you lost your wand too." His shadow lingers over you as he comes to join you against the wall. Taking up a seat beside you, your head falls to rest against his shoulder.

"Can we get pizza? I saw some of those leaflets when we came in so we could order some?"

"Whatever you want, my love."

As time ticks on the pizza box is left discarded in the kitchen as the two of you retire for the night. Who knew not actually unpacking but simply thinking about it while eating pizza on the dirty ground could be so much work. You struggle to hold back a yawn as you snuggle up to him trying to absorb as much of his body heat as you can. All that lay across the two of you were a blanket and this building was next exactly the warmest. "Do you think we'll be okay? "You ponder aloud; it was a question that had been on your mind since agreeing to follow him to Romania. For not many people stay together with their high school loves. What if things fall apart now that you're in the 'real' world? What if this was all just a huge mistake?

"What do you mean?" Always such a simple boy; you wonder how he deals with his anxieties. Did he actually not know what you meant or was he merely putting on a brave face? A once proud Gryffindor suggested that he always looked to be brave above anything else.

"Do you think we'll be okay?" You repeat as if that somehow answers his question but it must have done something because even in the darkness you can just tell he's smiling.

"You worry way too much." Charlie laughs.

"You don't worry enough,"

He lays a kiss upon the top of your head, his hand moving up and down your arm. "It used to be the other way around."

"I was young and reckless back then. "How you missed the days where you ran around the halls of Hogwarts with reckless abandon. Well, not entirely reckless that was more Tonks but things had definitely felt simpler back then.

"You're still young and reckless now, I just have to hear you stress about it afterwards." Charlie taunts, pinching your arm. You recoil at the sharp pain.

"Shush."

"Being in Romania doesn't change anything," He expresses; his voice sounding louder in the quiet darkness. "I loved you back home and I still love you now. I'm really glad you decided to come with me."

Hoping to distract yourself from every worrying thought that clouded your brain you decide it's time to change the subject. "Are you nervous about tomorrow?"

"Getting to work with Dragons all day every day? that's like dream come true."

"A dangerous one," Dragons were perhaps the most vicious creatures around other than humans. As captivating as they were and as much as charlie adored them, you couldn't help but worry about his safety. It seemed no matter the topic this evening you'd find a way to stress yourself out.

"I'll be fine, I'll have you there to patch me up," That he will for you had taken on the role as a healer willing to help out with all the injuries that inevitably come from dealing with dragons. You wouldn't admit it but you weren't quite convinced you were up to the task; you had never actually dealt with dragon-related injuries so this was like diving headfirst into the ocean when you only just learned how to swim in a training pool. "and if not- well, we had a good run."

"Don't joke about that," Nuzzling against his chest, you finally let your eyes close. Today was the start of forever with the one and only Charles Weasley and here he was joking about his ultimate demise.

4. The perfect day

It's peculiar how life can just fall into place. Your odd little world of dragons and leaky apartment buildings just became the norm. You had come to love your work at the reserve, Dragons were actually incredibly cool up close. Not to mention getting to see Charlie work with them after years of never shutting up about them was truly a sight to behold. Every day, it was like taking an excited little boy to his first day of school. His eyes simply lit up whenever he was at work although it was hard explaining his injuries to the neighbours when they were being nosey. You also had to be careful when using magic since you were basically living with muggles and it would be a headache if they ever found out.

With your site blocked by a thin piece of fabric, Charlie guides you carefully forward with his hands skillfully placed upon your arms to steer. This was the first day off the two of you have shared in a long time. Little information was given about your destination other than it being a surprise. With Charlie that could mean just about anything which wasn't always a good thing but you trusted him enough to believe he wasn't leading you into a dragon's den or something. A gentle breeze nipped at the skin of your neck and the ground felt soft under your feet. The gentle singing of a symphony of birds filled the air and the sun beamed down with remarkable easy. All this suggested you were somewhere withdrawn in nature. Charlie had always been one for the great outdoors. There were countless times you had found him sneaking in or out of the forbidden forest back at school.

"Am I going to like this surprise?" You inquire; your anxiety building with each step. You would much prefer to simply know what was going on rather than experience some dramatic reveal especially today of all days. Every year the boy seems to forget that he agreed not to make a big deal.

"I sure hope so," You practically slam into him as she comes to an unexpected standstill. "Because I don't think I can return it."

"Return what? Oh god- can I take my blindfold off?"

As the flimsy fabric skims the length of your face to settle loosely around your neck, your eyes take a minute to adapt. You don't know quite what you were expecting but this was not it. Before you stands a small cottage surrounded by nothing but a wide-open field full of a rainbow of wildflowers. It was a beautiful little house with as much charm and beauty you'd expect from a place out in what seems like the middle of nowhere. It could be described as the perfect place to settle down.

"Surprise!" He was redder than a cherry tomato when he stepped into view. Both arms in the air as a sign of celebration but you were just rather... confused? Whose house was this and why had he brought you all the way out here?

"I don't get it?"

"We've been here for a while now so I thought we should get our own place or like, a better place. One where we don't have to worry about anyone else." His confidence appeared to develop with each word but his face was still powdered in a deep shade of pink. S this was your house? He'd decided to up and move without even consulting you? "So I got us a little cottage in the middle of nowhere. It kinda reminds me of the burrow only, y'know, smaller."

"It's ours?" His excitement is clear on his face and he quickly takes your hand. Pulling you along with him. "And that's not all."

"There's more?" Surely a whole house was enough. You were quite proud of Charlie for picking such a beautiful little place. Come summertime, you could already see yourself sitting among the flowers painting little pictures. You also wouldn't have to worry about muggles. Coming up on the front door, your boyfriend delivers you a little golden key. And with just a tiny degree of fear about what could be on the other side you unlock it. Much to your astonishment and disappointment, nothing is behind the door except the hallway leading inside. Charlie enters first and even as you follow, you half expect someone to jump out.

"I know I agreed not to make a big deal but how could I not?" He opens a door at the end of the hallway that leads to the kitchen. It's not a massive space but it's assuredly not small either, the whole place was already furnished but you recognise the surprise was truly what sat on the table. It was a two-tier cake covered in blue frosting including the words Happy Birthday scrawled across the top followed by your name.

"You... baked?"

"Mum sent it actually," Charlie chortled lightly as he wanders up behind you. Tossing a package of red with multicoloured polka-dots onto the table. "Sent this along too. Reckon it's a jumper or something."

"That was nice of her," You weren't sure of how to react to it all. Birthdays had never really been your thing but you appreciated that Mrs. Weasley had gone out of her way to make you something special.

"And from me..." He trails off and the sound of tiny tracks echo off the walls attended by an adorable yelp. Up to your feet slides an ash grey puppy who was more legs than anything else. It had bright blue eyes and floppy ears.

"You got me a dog?"

"I got us a dog- thought we needed a pet around here. I debated getting a crup but that'd be a disaster if your parents ever decide to visit." Crups were notorious for their dislike of muggles. You never understood why but he was right in his decision. The gesture was sweet but rather odd all things considered but still you smile. It was hard to be mad at something so cute and you weren't just talking about the dog. The puppy sits at your feet, wagging its little tail a mile a minute. There was no denying how adorable it was and at least it wasn't a dragon. Or a murtlap for that matter, those things were ugly. "You don't seem happy... do you not like him? I can take him back?" Kneeling, your hand drifts over the soft fur of the puppy's head. In response, the dog jumps up in an attempt to lick at your face. Your smile grows as you try to get away. "I think he likes you."

"What's his name?"

"Whatever you want? He's a Great Dane by the way." The puppy had calmed down a little and you stare as you ponder the perfect name for an ash grey Great Dane. "How about... Arlo?"

"Arlo?"

"Mhmm," You hum standing up straight. "And I'm plenty happy if not a little overwhelmed. You know how I feel when it comes to my birthday."

"I do," He nods casually. His palms snake around your waist drawing you flush against him "But I never want you to forget that someone cares about you- that I care about you so bloody much."

"I know you do," You give him a quick peck on the lips. "And I'm thankful for that and for all of this."

"Arlo is the perfect name, Happy Birthday" Your lips connect in a beautifully slow embrace that fills your body with warmth and as he pulls away, his forehead comes to rest against yours. The dog barking as it explores the kitchen. "I'm just so grateful that you decided to run away with me."

#Charlie Weasley x reader #Charlie Weasley #charlie weasley imagine #hogwarts mystery #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction

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framecaught · 3 years

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[S] Cascade After the Death of Flash

Most of us familiar with Homestuck are familiar with [S] Cascade. This seminal flash animation concludes Homestuck’s fifth act and is still considered by many fans the most important, climactic animation in the comic (even ahead of its successors [S] GAME OVER and [S] Collide).

Many of us may also be familiar with the extraordinary circumstances of the animation’s release. A user called Vivi on the now-defunct MSPA Forums made a commemorative comic documenting the occasion, which, to my view, really captures the essence of the release-mythos. In short: On October 25th, 2011, Homestuck updated after a year-long hiatus with a thirteen-minute flash called [S] Cascade. As fans raced to watch it, the influx of pageviews crashed Newgrounds, the site where the flash was hosted. Hussie temporarily uploaded the flash to megaupload.com. Megaupload.com crashed. The Homestuck website crashed; the Homestuck forum crashed; livestream.com crashed as fans who had “gotten in” tried to stream the video; and, finally, the Homestuck fandom crashed Twitter. [1]

Today, it is hard to imagine Homestuck fans crashing Twitter. Back in 2011, Twitter was a lot smaller, and Homestuck was a lot bigger. But it wasn’t just the long year of building anticipation and the mad scramble to watch the flash which cemented [S] Cascade as one of Homestuck’s most iconic pages. The Flash itself is aesthetically ambitious beyond any previous flash in the comic [2]. Not only does it combine detailed illustrations contributed by fan collaborators with an absolutely fire soundtrack; it manipulates the traditional Homestuck “panel” in a completely unique way.

Among the various stunning moments in the flash, I find Bec Noir’s dramatic release of the red miles one of the most memorable. The YouTuber Precision F-Strike captures my same reaction when I watched [S] Cascade for the first time in this video around 1:20, exclaiming: “My screen is getting bigger! My screen is getting bigger!!” What made this “expanding panel” trick so dazzling upon my first watch? The release of the red miles marks the first instance in which [S] Cascade modifies the traditional size of the Homestuck panel. By no means does it mark the first time the comic as a whole has deviated from its own standard panel size; elongated panels, multiple panels, and links-to-panels have all been regular features of the comic up to this point. However, [S] Cascade is the first page to modify the panel size during a Flash sequence, changing in motion. This novelty, combined with the surprise of the effect, sets the reader up to expect a flash of epic proportions—and [S] Cascade delivers.

After expanding for the red miles, the panel never quite shrinks down to its original size. For the rest of the animation, the plot unfolds within an extended panel-space ripe for dramatic exploitation. At 2:53 the panel shrinks back down to show Bec Noir’s journey to post-reckoning earth, then grows again to get back into the action. At 4:22 it shrinks and breaks into multiple panels to illustrate Bec Noir wreaking destruction in the troll’s session. The proliferation of these moving rectangles mimics a film reel, reminding us that we have technically already seen these events, but underscoring their importance as a conglomeration of memories for the trolls.

Transitioning to the human sessions’ Derse at 4:38, the panel blows up again to its traditional size and adopts an exterior “wallpaper.” This “wallpaper”, as I’ll call it, shifts with the content of the Flash for the next few minutes. It shows the exterior of Derse as Rose and Dave fly through, then it takes on the red and yellow colors of the quest beds; the black and white colors of The Tumor; the red and blue colors of the “mass of two universes” device; and finally the fleur-de-lis pattern of the Felt mansion. During the sequence between Sn0wman and Slick, at 6:08 Slick’s bullet actually pushes out the corner of the traditional frame, extending it back into the full extended-panel space. Then again, during the climactic moment at 10:02, panels grow and shrink and replace others, flashing in time with the soundtrack, drawing the plotlines together and anticipating the finger-frame with which Jade creates the Fenestrated Plane. The animation finishes with John and Jade busting through the Fenestrated Plane, which cycles through the comic’s own panels, culminating the meta-referential panel distortion with this final act of “escaping” from and through the Homestuck panels themselves.

As a result of the extended panel-space established at the release of the red miles, we get to experience the majority of [S] Cascade’s action (and gorgeous artwork) on an enlarged canvas. Just as we go to the cinema to see movies on the “big screen,” Homestuck deploys its own big screen at the start of the flash. Then, all the growing and shrinking between segments contributes to the narrative flow of the flash. The “shrunk” portions leave room for the panel to blow up again once the next climax comes. I think the “wallpaper” effect employed mid-flash is especially effective, as it allows Hussie to continue utilizing the extended panel-space while keeping the frame small in advance of the Sn0wman’s death, at which point it expands again. It’s also important to note how Hussie manipulates our other preconceived expectations, aside from panel size, to enhance the animation’s drama. The website itself gets a special [S] Cascade color scheme and header. In the unfamiliar layout of this Cascade-ified website, readers prepare themselves for the best and the worst—then their expectations are thrown off balance again, for good measure, with the expansion of the panel and the big-screen execution of the flash. With all of this in mind, it’s easy to see how [S] Cascade generated such a massive response.

As you may be aware, as of January 2021 Adobe has discontinued its support for Flash Player, with all major web browsers following suit. This means it’s near impossible to run flash content on any normal computer, and it won’t be long before flash only exists in archival projects. Luckily, the new denizens of the Homestuck website have worked to keep all of the story intact despite the changing media landscape, with some interactive flash pages broken down into videos or screencaps and animations converted to embedded YouTube videos [3]. If you are interested in experiencing Homestuck’s flash content as originally released, a fantastic project called the Unofficial Homestuck Collection has worked to archive the entire comic in a custom browser which natively runs Flash (all you need is 4GB of space on your computer and some time for the assets to download). This archive has been invaluable for my art historical investigation into the comic [4].

As it stands, though—unless forced by a concerned friend to download The Unofficial Homestuck Collection browser—new readers to Homestuck can’t experience the Flash games and animations in their original format. The same goes for folks rereading the comic. In the case of [S] Cascade, significant losses must be mourned. The effect set off by the red miles (the surprise and novelty of your “screen getting bigger”) is hampered by the embedded YouTube format. When you open the [S] Cascade page, now, it presents you with a mid-flash thumbnail, a YouTube play button, and YouTube framing elements such as a watermark and title (pictured above). You can’t avoid already seeing the extended panel-space of the flash page with this new format. Even though the panels within the embed begin in their “shrunk” state and grow to fill out the video frame, the expansion can never be a surprise to the same degree it was in the original Flash format. Flash animations were unornamented by watermarks, titles, and scrubber bars. They were so indistinguishable from regular static panels and gifs in terms of size, image quality, and framing that this gag (pictured below) actually worked. The indistinguishable quality of flash animations from regular gif panels created the necessary environment for [S] Cascade to surprise us by suddenly growing and filling the screen. That drama is inevitably lost in the flash’s new format.

On the other hand, the YouTube format presents some obvious benefits for readers. For one thing, you can now scrub back and forth in the animation, pause it, and even see its timestamps. This is beneficial to any reader who wants to revisit key moments and enormously helpful for someone like me analyzing the animation in detail. I would argue that the inability to pause the animation in its original format contributed to its monumental quality—readers couldn’t pause to breathe, and the comic took merciless control over the pacing—but of course the inability to pause something is also terribly inconvenient. Furthermore, the video format solves an issue that plagued Homestuck readers (including myself) throughout the comic’s lifetime: it’s inaccessibility on mobile devices. Adobe Flash famously failed to transition into the world of mobile touch-screens after Steve Jobs decided not to support it on the iPhone, writing a letter denouncing the software for its errors [5]. With Flash no longer functioning, the reformatted pages in Homestuck are all compatible with mobile devices, meaning readers can now enjoy the comic while lying sideways in bed like we always dreamed. Among other considerations, Adobe Flash was a complete pain to work with [6] for many large-scale projects, and its technical limitations cannot be ignored. On the whole, the death of Flash speaks to a greater evolution in our 21st century media sphere—the growing importance of mobile browsing, the shift from web-hosted games to apps and game launchers, and the increasing “convergence” of platforms into all-purpose devices. While much of Homestuck’s impact and charm resulted from its innovative use of Flash, like the example I’ve given in [S] Cascade, the unique bubble of history in which Flash existed should be fondly remembered and effectively preserved as we continue to navigate the comic’s legacy.

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Happy 4/13! If you liked this post, you can follow the blog on tumblr for updates or, if you don’t frequent tumblr, sign up for the mailing list to receive an email whenever I publish a new mini-essay!

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[1] I unfortunately can’t say I was around for the original [S] Cascade release (I started reading the comic about two years too late). However, even during the Gigapause, what I’ve called its “release mythos” was still widely retold. The events themselves are documented here: https://fanlore.org/wiki/Cascade_(Homestuck). Thank you to @imploder for having saved Vivi’s comic on tumblr!

[2] Hussie wrote about the making of [S] Cascade on his tumblr, now archived here: https://wheals.github.io/tumblr/tumblr.html#about-eoa5-part-1. This gives some insight into the massive undertaking. Previously, the longest animation in Homestuck was [S] Descend, an animation which Hussie calls “Cascade Lite” in his author commentary in Homestuck Book 3. [S] Descend was the first animation to significantly incorporate multiple plotlines moving along at once. Hussie describes this narrative style as an “action-collage” (also in the Book 3 commentary). [S] Descend was also (to my recollection) the first time Hussie significantly incorporated assets from contributing artists into an animation, which he explained was partially to keep the production moving faster. Ironically, during the production of [S] Cascade, organizing contributors turned out to be much more of a hassle—but ultimately Hussie deems the myriad of captivating art styles “a big plus” in his post.

[3] Although some are completely broken, now :(. RIP silly flute refrain.

[4] I seriously cannot overstate how grateful I am for this project.

[5] This article does a great job of explaining the history of Adobe Flash and its eventual demise.

[6] Hussie goes over some of the issues he had with the software in the post referenced at [2]

#essay post #homestuck analysis #media studies #adobe flash #homestuck cascade

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saudadeonly · 3 years

Text

burn my heart out: rewrite the history pages (Chapter 4)

Read on ao3. Part 8, consisting of 4 chapters.

Death Eater!Sirius Black AU

Lord Voldemort wages war on Hogwarts but he is unaware of the years-worth of battle fought against him.

(or, several instalments following the Battle of Hogwarts with Sirius Black standing on the wrong side)

In which the House of Black tailors the tapestry of fate.

Word count: 6425

___

James’s knees have gone out from under him, the words streaming out of his mouth far, far away from English or any spells known to man; they’re his mother’s prayers, ancient and further away than the possibility of their survival. It’s only thanks to Marlene’s quick swish of her wand that James doesn’t end up on the floor and remains upright, half-standing, half-floating instead, but the book he was holding isn’t afforded the same luxury. It falls to the ground and slams open, revealing familiar handwriting curved over the pages, covered by an ever-moving picture of James, Lily and Harry; James pressing a kiss to Harry’s wild hair, Harry grinning and Lily’s mouth pressed to Harry’s chubby hand, all of them swaddled in thick, winter-coming clothes. Remus used to read pages-long letters in that handwriting; it’s burned to the back of his eyelids and the words the letters used to convey are the first ones he remembers when he wakes up. He doesn’t know how the picture he took got into the hands that loop their letters this way.

“James,” Remus whispers, stepping in close to take on James’s weight. He doesn’t dare look at the book or the picture again. “James,” he repeats, louder this time, as he presses his fingertips to the sweep of James’s ribs, where he was always sensitive, “we have to go, we have to –”

He doesn’t know how to finish that sentence. He doesn’t know how to help them get out of this one. Lily and Harry were supposed to be safe. He saw them out as far as he could and kept them protected as far as the Invisibility cloak would allow him to. It was his idea to use the passage underneath the Whomping Willow, even if Lily said that they shouldn’t, but there was nowhere else to go. If it was his idea that got them captured – or worse, by now – he will never forgive himself.

“Yeah,” James says anyway, nodding as he rights his glasses on his drained face, “yeah, let’s go.”

They rush out of the Great Hall, the two of them and others Remus cannot, for the life of him, think of right now, and they go down the corridor, through the side door of the Entrance Hall and out into the torch-lit courtyard. There is a shadow that passes behind the colonnade on the side but Remus sees the group of dark-robed figures next and he can’t look away.

Lily struggled. She is still struggling even with a stream of blood from her temple down the side of her face but her efforts are futile against the strength of the woman holding her against her chest. Aubrie Rostami, he remembers with vivid clarity, the young leader of a werewolf pack he talked to on Dumbledore’s orders. A lifetime ago but she told him his, as well as the other side’s, efforts were in vain and he believed her. Now, with Lily’s wand tucked into the belt around her narrow hips, his naivety about her words adds insult to injury.

“You have come to watch,” Voldemort says, a cruel smile playing at his lips. Beside him, Harry is caught in the arms of a masked Death Eater, who doesn’t seem to be struggling with keeping him in place. Harry has his Padfoot plushie hugged to his chest and probably doesn’t sense the danger drawing down over him. “I hoped you might.” He swishes his wand.

It’s too unexpected to counter, too sudden to make a grab for their wands – they all go up in the air, suspended in it but still able to move until Voldemort points his wand at them again and adds, almost lazily, “Immobulus.”

A desperate sound escapes Lily. “James,” she says, an apology, a plea, as Aubrie drags her little ways to the side, toward the tattered part of the group, leaving Greyback the only werewolf not standing with the Death Eaters. “James, I –”

“It’s okay, Lily,” James says, tears in his eyes. “It’s alright, I love you, I love you.”

“Touching,” Voldemort sneers. “Unfortunately, we have other things to do than to listen to you desperate lovebirds.”

“Please,” Lily says, tears running through the dirt streaked across her cheeks, voice strained through the pressure across her neck, “please, not Harry, take me instead, please.”

She must have said it a thousand times over during their walk up to the castle, begged each one of the cold, hidden faces for the life of her son; it doesn’t make it any less heartbreaking.

The Death Eaters don’t stir. They all have their masks on, except for Bellatrix who has covered her face with manic delight instead and Narcissa with her bright head bowed at the very back, but Remus doesn’t see the one he’s always looking for. If Sirius, even masked, were among them, Remus would know him by the easy way he moves, the way his spells cut cold and precise to the others’ wicked delight. It is for the better, perhaps, that Sirius is not here; Remus wouldn’t be able to stand knowing that when faced with the choice himself Sirius would easily give Harry’s life away.

Bellatrix is the only one that reacts. “My lord,” she murmurs as she turns to Voldemort with gleaming eyes, “if the Mudblood wishes so –”

“You’re right, Bellatrix,” he says, gaze flicking towards Lily as he runs the tip of his finger down the length of his wand. “There’s no harm in a little entertainment before we go on to the next part and Nagini has not properly eaten.” His eyes, red as blood, slide to Aubrie, the Death Eaters behind him chuckling. “You,” he snaps. “Bring the Mudblood here.” A scornful glance at Lily, his face cold. “Don’t worry, I will be more merciful than I was with your dear Severus.”

Remus’s stomach turns at the remark. Snape’s body turned up months ago, mangled and tortured beyond recognition, with scores down his face and sides, his bones broken a hundred times over; it is not a high bar of mercy to clear.

“No,” James shouts, his body straining against the magical restraints, to no avail. “No, don’t hurt them, please!”

Aubrie glances at the colonnade across from her then looks back at Voldemort and nods, her expression steeled. Remus follows her gaze but there is nothing there but dust and shadows, dancing with the flickering lights.

Aubrie tightens her grip on Lily, then, when they take a step forward, stumbles over the ground and ends up pushing Lily away from her, far away from the reach of her or the other werewolves’ arms, nearly to the foot of the staircase of the side entrance, where Hogwarts’ students, pale-faced, are now beginning to gather. Lily gasps out a breath, two, and stays, heaving, on the ground.

“You imbecile!” Bellatrix screams, pointing her want at Aubrie. “Do you half-breeds know how to do anything right?”

Aubrie smiles, guilelessly, at her. “Oops,” she says, tucking her hands behind her back, the lines around her eyes and mouth cut in marble. “Stupid werewolf, me.”

Bellatrix exclaims, the curse flashing out of her wand too familiar to warrant any kind of actual words. Except a purple curse slashes through its trajectory, away from Aubrie, and the combined force of the two spells slams into a wide pillar to the side, sending up a flurry of dust and debris.

Among the surprised exclaims that break out, Bellatrix looks toward the source of the second spell and finds, as the rest of them do, a masked Sirius Black strolling out from behind the columns on the opposite side. “I would appreciate it, Bella,” he drawls, hands in his pockets, “if you didn’t break an alliance I worked for months to obtain.”

“Sirius,” James gasps out, the sound more relief than anything else if it weren’t for the hope filling it up, “Sirius, you have to –”

“Silencio,” Sirius says, flicking his wand at James, whose mouth remains open around the non-existent words and eyes wide. Marlene a few paces behind him is pressing her mouth into a pained frown. Remus doesn’t want to know what she was about to tell him back in the Great Hall or how many more seeds of hope that would now be crushed she would have planted with it.

“Sirius,” Voldemort drawls with a tilt of his head, eyes narrowed, “how wonderful of you to join us.”

Sirius, positioning himself next to Aubrie, dips his head into a quick, precursory bow. “The Hogwarts grounds are vast, my lord,” he answers, his voice muffled enough it betrays no emotion. It doesn’t make sense, any of it, his book in James’s hands or his name in James’s mouth, inflected like an orison, because there was nothing he had to gain from it if this is the side he’s chosen now. Remus has never understood him but he never thought he’d let them get so close to the brink. Not ever and especially not after they saw each other in Hogsmeade, when Remus thought a line had clearly been drawn: not Harry.

Voldemort’s face doesn’t clear but he inclines his head and moves his gaze to Aubrie. Sirius’s hand reaches behind her, to where exactly Remus can’t really see but Aubrie tilts her chin up.

Before Voldemort can exact his fury over Aubrie, however, there’s a rustle among the students and they part to the side to let a tall, thin figure steps past. His blond hair reflects reddish in the torchlight as he pauses only for a second by then moves forward. Lily pulls herself to her feet with the help of a student’s extended hand instead but when she tries to follow after, an invisible wall seems to stop her.

“Barty,” Voldemort says, echoing the name murmured among the students, teeth bared the tiniest bit in an appropriation of a smile, cold as death. “You should have been back long ago.”

Barty Crouch moves toward the crowd of Death Eaters with a sort of fluidity Remus wouldn’t expect of someone who was just addressed in such a displeased tone by Voldemort. His robes are ripped at the top of his left sleeve and his leg is dusted with white so he might have an excuse but still, Remus can’t imagine he’d be that confident. He bows before Voldemort but his eyes flick toward the glowing sphere Voldemort’s snake is floating in. “Forgive me, my lord,” he says. “I got held up.”

Voldemort considers him and the robes lying out of place. “No matter now,” he answers, waving him off, “if you found it.”

“I did, my lord,” Barty says as he straightens and pulls a pouch out of his pocket. The Death Eaters around Voldemort quiet as Barty pulls the top of the pouch open and fishes out a mangled, dull silver piece that Remus recognises to have been some sort of tiara once. “I took the liberty of taking care of it.”

There is a second of stunned silence, the tiara’s remains falling off the tip of Barty’s finger as he reaches behind him and pulls a silver dagger out instead. He turns his wrist, the torchlight glinting along the blade, flashing poison-green, and chucks it directly at Nagini.

The dagger flies through the air, its trajectory straight, and Remus knows he’s witnessing something important, something monumental, like a dice roll moments before a jackpot or bankruptcy, like a ship on top of a wave before it breaks; he holds his breath, the air in his lungs stilling before it rushes out of his lungs as the dagger hits the sphere. It bounces off and clatters to the ground, only inches away from the broken tiara. Nagini curls inside the sphere with gleaming eyes, her tongue slipping out her mouth, unharmed.

Voldemort yells, wand lashing out, and Barty flies back, arms flailing around, his shout not as surprised as it should be. Except it’s not Barty that skids across the ground several feet away; his hair has bled into black, his skin tanned and when he looks up, a wheezing sound escaping him, his features have angled into the face of Regulus Black. It takes Remus a second to recognise the sound as laughter, breathless as it is, out of sync with the sharp, emotionless face he last saw. Linsy told them but, even now, Remus doesn’t quite believe it, cannot reconcile the dawning of Regulus’s death with the man that just took a hit at Voldemort.

Across the courtyard, Sirius is indiscernible under the mask, the knot of his Adam’s apple bobbing the only sign he’s even noticed. His hands are buried deep in his pockets. Otis Shah, the leader of another werewolf pack Remus talked to what seems like years ago now, pushes to the front and keeps his steady eyes on Sirius.

“You.” Voldemort’s skin has gone paler than possible, eyes wide. Even Bellatrix is silent, left out from the stream of murmurs that rises up among the Death Eaters. “You’re dead.”

“I guess not.”

There is a short scream of pain when Voldemort points his wand at Narcissa. “Bring me that,” he orders, gesturing to the pouch fallen from Regulus’s hands. “Restrain him, Bellatrix.”

Bellatrix obeys while Narcissa steps forward, straight-backed, but picks up the pouch with unsure fingers. It seems that an aeon passes before her soft-footed steps bring her close enough to Voldemort to hand it over. As soon as she’s done so, she slinks back to Lucius’s side, her eyes passing between Regulus’s face and Sirius’s motionless form, the silver mask secured over his expression nearly the same shade as her cheeks.

The courtyard stands still as Voldemort pulls out several charred objects: a leather-bound book, a golden goblet, a ring. A moment of silence passes. Then a scream tears out of Voldemort, so violent it echoes in Remus’s bones, so cruel it turns into the only thing it could have: “Crucio.”

Regulus trashes into his standstill, body convulsing of its own accord with nowhere to run and Remus cannot stand the sight of him but it’s not a pain he’d wish on him or anyone. He is Sirius’s brother but he is more than that; he is someone who grew past him, bigger than him, who turned against Voldemort, the only thing Remus has ever wanted for Sirius to do. Remus cannot bear to look at Sirius’s reaction, if there is any at all.

Regulus stills, chest heaving. “I’ll keep the locket as a keepsake,” he says hoarsely, staring up at Voldemort with deep, Black-grey eyes. Inexplicably, Remus wishes it were someone else’s eyes proclaiming their defiance, someone else’s words drawing a line of sure-fire stance.

Someone clears their throat and everyone turns to look at the source of it. In one smooth movement, Sirius pulls off his mask and flings it onto the ground. It fractures, almost exactly down the line of the constellations, silvery bits smashing around. He has his wand pointed at Voldemort in the next split second, his face forged into single-minded determination, as familiar as coming up for air after diving down to the bottom, his simple movement an act of war for itself. “Avada Kedavra.”

Not pointed at Voldemort, Remus realises belatedly but at Nagini, still caught in the glowing sphere. He can’t imagine why killing Voldemort’s pet is so important to Sirius and Regulus but he’s willing to concede their already-questionable sanity must have chipped away by now.

A large chunk of stone flies up in front of Voldemort and Nagini and explodes into green fire, the sickly light washing over the astounded faces all around. Sirius Black, the most loyal of supporters, going against Voldemort himself. An alliance built for years, thrown away on a dime for the one person Sirius has always been most protective of: Regulus.

The explosion and the astonishment give him a few precious seconds but Sirius doesn’t use them to go to Regulus. Instead, he shouts, “Now!” and fires his next spell at Bellatrix and her manic-gleaming eyes. She was the only one who didn’t stop to gawk and whose wand summoned up the chunk of stone in front of Voldemort.

The clash of their spells, a knock of wordless curses, cutting and precise, lights up the night and through it, Remus sees Otis Shah punch the Death Eater holding Harry. His fingers break with the impact but the Death Eater pitches to the side and Otis doubles down, unflinching as his bones splinter. “Run, boy!” he yells at Harry, who lands, sprawled and scraped but ultimately unharmed, on the ground.

Sirius has taken on both Bellatrix and Voldemort in that time, not sparing a glance for Regulus trying to get out of the magic binding him or the werewolves jumping the other Death Eaters, but seems to be holding his own until his wand slashes through the air a split second before Bellatrix’s, confident in its motion, infallible in its target. Bellatrix is knocked back, gasping for air as she rolls across the ground, her wand falling away from her.

“Crucio!” The word out of Sirius’s mouth revibrates with a strength that makes Voldemort’s knees go out from under him, his mouth open in a sky-slashing scream but Sirius doesn’t keep it longer than a second. Instead, his eyes go to Nagini, then to Regulus. At the very end, they follow the small figure prickling through the battle.

Harry has picked himself up and is running across the cobbled courtyard but his short legs aren’t fast enough to get him away; Greyback, throwing off another werewolf, leaps through the air and is at his heels in a matter of moments, his sharp, yellow nails brushing over the top of Harry’s black hair, the sound of his footsteps reaching up to grab at Remus’s throat.

“Harry!” Lily’s hair is a beacon in a sea of black and brown but she might as well be across the world for Harry, separated by a mountain of danger and fire that he cannot brave alone, and he dashes away from them. “No!”

Harry ends up throwing himself into Sirius’s arms instead, from where Sirius has half-braced himself to catch him, just as Greyback lunges after him and, unable to stop his momentum, slams directly into the two of them. They go tumbling back, Sirius’s body like a shield around Harry’s as he takes the brunt of both Greyback’s force and impact with the stones. Remus’s breath catches in his throat, traitorously, stupidly, not only because it’s Harry, but because it’s Sirius’s arms that are secured around him.

The movement in the courtyard stills as the three of them end up sprawled across the ground, Greyback across Sirius’s legs, Harry’s dark head tucked against Sirius’s shoulder.

Otis crosses the few feet between them and pulls Greyback off Sirius with his good hand, aiming a kick at his stomach and another one at his ribs, leaving him gasping out. The last kick, centred directly at his face, breaks his nose and makes him go still.

Sirius’s lips are moving, the words they’re shaping inaudible, and Harry is nodding reluctantly as they slowly pick themselves up, Sirius getting his knees beneath himself. He draws himself up, his hair a halo of black and dust framing his face, arms firm around Harry, a silver ring glinting on his finger. His wand lies a few feet away, snapped in half. This is how tragedies go, Remus knows, an inevitable fall from grace, a turning point; the beginning of the fifth act, a certain bitterness in the fact that there isn’t any other way this could have ended.

A sob rips out of Lily. “Harry.”

Only a meter away from Remus, but still too far away, James’s face is drained, slashed open with grief and fear. “Please,” he murmurs, the sound dragging over Remus’s skin, skimming down his spine; suddenly, he is standing back in that Muggle town, years removed, his life going to pieces around him. “Sirius, please.”

“Sirius,” Voldemort says as he gets to his feet, batting away the offered help of a Death Eater and reaches out a hand, pale and unwavering. It’s obvious what he’s about to offer: a redemption for the havoc he wreaked, a way out of his predicament. “Bring me the boy.”

Sirius looks around, the grey of his eyes bottomless, incomprehensible with the way he’s caged his heart so fully. They flit over Otis, still standing over Greyback, stop momentarily on Regulus, now motionless on the ground but with his eyes wide open, and pass over Narcissa’s pale, pinched face; they settle on the phoenix feather stretched thin between the two halves of his wand. When he looks back at Voldemort he swallows and says, “No.”

The word hangs in the air, descending slowly upon the faces of Voldemort and the Death Eaters, but it settles somewhere deep in Remus’s chest, pressing up to the shape of, That was ours, that Remus made space for so carefully in the outskirts of his heart two years ago. Harry, with James’s face and Lily’s eyes and Remus’s heart, is theirs, down to the bone; but he is Sirius’s too, his choice and his redemption.

“Give me the boy,” Voldemort says, voice a bit lower, those ruby-red eyes narrowing.

Wordlessly, Sirius nudges Harry out of his arms and behind himself, arms forming a protective brace around him as Harry clings to his back. The Death Eaters have spread out, forming a wall of bodies between the two of them and the Order and Hogwarts’ residents. Between Harry and his parents.

Sirius keeps his eyes on Voldemort but his calm and even words are only for Harry as his hands tighten on Harry’s torso. “It’s alright, pup.” He glances at Otis. “Now would be a good time to make your exit.”

“And miss all the fun?” Aubrie says loudly, grinning as she looks at Bellatrix, who’s picking up her wand off the ground, with gleaming eyes. An incline of her head and the werewolves get behind Sirius and Harry, their backs to Voldemort. Only now it becomes apparent to Remus that, trough the entirety of the battle, no werewolf looked to Voldemort for instructions. An alliance I worked for months to obtain, Sirius’s voice echoes, pushing a sudden realisation that whatever this was for Sirius it certainly wasn’t an impulsive decision if he had offered the werewolves something even Dumbledore hadn’t. “I rather think not.”

“Better future, didn’t you promise?” Otis adds, moving in line with the other werewolves. Bone sticks out from his fingers, blood pooling around. Still, the brace of his mouth is nothing but firm.

Remus’s throat burns; brave as they might be, dedicated and fierce, they will be no match for the Death Eaters once they decide to use their wands. Sirius must know it, too – that they are willing to die for this. For Harry.

“It’s waiting for you,” he says.

“Only if it’s waiting for you, too,” Aubrie shoots back. She pulls Lily’s wand from her belt and arcs it high above the heads of Death Eaters, all the way to the barrier keeping Lily and the students at bay. Lily’s fingers grapple for it.

“You, Sirius?” Voldemort asks, the soft, silky sound dragging through the air. “Not Regulus, not Severus. You.”

Sirius inclines his head. “Snape did betray you,” he says, the cadence of his voice a slow, agonising dance of death, a promise of, I won’t get out of this alive but neither will you, “but I wasn't yours to begin with.”

“Traitor!” Bellatrix hisses but the sound carries, her face white with rage, her wand pointed directly at Sirius. “I’ll kill you.”

“You can do better than that, Bella. Didn’t Aunt Walburga ever teach you?”

“No, Bellatrix.” Voldemort levels his wand at Sirius, pale hand steady. “I will do it.”

“My lord, such betrayal requires pain, he played us for fools for years –”

“He has the boy,” Voldemort cuts in smoothly, face a grimace. “I do not wish to lose more time. These dramatics have gone on long enough. Besides,” he adds slowly, “the greatest pain for him will be knowing that he leaves all the others here at my mercy.”

Sirius swallows, his eyes blinking closed for a moment, but he lifts his chin and doesn’t budge. Perhaps that’s all Sirius has left to give of himself: a last sacrifice, a declaration of love and lies and apology, laid bare on the cobblestones of Hogwarts, poured through the cracks of the ground it’s built on, raw with how final it is, fragile with the way it was for nothing at all; the act of a dying man, a reminder that even now he would rather crawl home than walk among them. Still, Remus wants to tell him, still it mattered. It will matter.

“Please,” Lily whispers, her voice hoarse. “Please, don’t – take me instead, please –”

Sirius, in his last moments, turns his eyes to Regulus, who is shaking his head in desperation, the pained sounds crawling up from his throat ripping a black, bleeding line into the meaning of devastation. “Guess even the two of us playing together wasn’t enough, huh?” he says, soft between him and his brother, something untouchable spread out in front of them, pulsing. “Désolé, Reggie.”

“This is your last chance, Sirius,” Voldemort murmurs. “No matter your motivations, you have been a good subject. See reason now and all will be forgiven.”

“Easy now, Harry,” Sirius says and Remus’s heart might rip its way out of his chest with how painfully it’s tugging, knowing that Harry is Sirius’s last thought. Harry sobs and curls closer. “It’ll be alright, little one.”

“So be it.”

The motion of Voldemort’s wand, the incantation falling from his lips, the flash of blinding green light; all of it is familiar, achingly so, and it leaves a bitter taste in the back of Remus’s mouth.

“No!” Regulus moves, breaking through the strain of magic around him, and Remus sees it as if time has slowed down; the scrambling off the ground, the desperate, rushed strides towards his brother, his hand, closing around the dip of Sirius’s shoulder, Sirius’s own hand coming up to wrap around Regulus’s fingers. Two brothers, one a Gryffindor, the other a Slytherin, different in everything but that which matters, both so brave, both so clever. Neither moving to save the other from death and take it on himself, but remaining next to each other. To die side-by-side. Together.

The light hits them – Remus can’t tell who it hits, because they are one, these brilliant boys; they are the stars they are named after, they are Blacks, with magic in every nook and cranny of their being, they are brothers, in blood and in name, in everything that they hate – and someone shouts. The world erupts in motion, rallying, wild, fierce, but Remus stays still, unable to watch, unable to look away, and wonders if he is the only one that can feel the magic, old, old magic, sizzling through the air, the taste of it pungent, its sound buzzing in his ears.

But even the Blacks, with their stories written in the stars, are mortal and when Regulus and Sirius collapse, their hands still linked, Remus thinks that the worse sound he has ever heard have to be the screams that rip out of McGonagall, out of James and Lily and Marlene. It’s not until Voldemort moves forward that Remus realises: he was screaming too.

There is no time to let the action sink in, however. The werewolves have surged forward, a tide of beaten bodies and broken spines, fighting for a future that may never come, their edge of surprise lost – the first retaliating spells cut a quarter of them down. The students follow their lead, firing off spells at random but their magic is nowhere near enough to get any of them to Harry.

“Fools,” Voldemort says and waves his wand as he steps past Sirius and Regulus’s limp bodies, towards Harry, who still stands, petrified, next to the safety Sirius tried to preserve for him. Nagini drops down from her sphere and curves her body after him. “Goes to show that even the greatest bloodlines can be tainted.”

Bellatrix points her wand at Sirius and says, “Crucio!” and Sirius’s body flails through the air, silent as only dead men can be. Her triumphant laugh echoes around the courtyard, drowns out all the other sounds in it, followed by a chorus of others’ as the werewolves continue to fall.

Only one doesn’t follow her lead and through the carnage, Remus catches sight of the blonde head bending down behind Bellatrix, the trembling hand that closes around the handle of the dagger that Regulus, minutes away from death, threw. Narcissa Black Malfoy draws herself up, eyes trained on Nagini, now freely slithering across the ground a pace behind Voldemort, toward Sirius and Regulus’s bodies, and moves. And then the end of the world comes bathed in green light.

It begins with Lily’s scream, unearthed from the deepest parts of her chest, thrown out into the world that seeks to take her son; it continues with Narcissa’s hand coming down in a quick, steady arc, with Nagini’s body convulsing and then stilling on the blood-splashed stones; it ends with Voldemort’s wand falling from his limp fingers, his body following a moment, a blink of a second, later. His vacant eyes, like the blood spilling from Nagini’s body, receive no mercy from the dark sky.

There is a moment of utter stillness, of complete silence and then Harry’s wails shoot over the entire battle, over the werewolves that push harder, over Lily and James that break free and dive for him. Remus finds himself among the ones that raise their wands against the furious onslaught of Death Eaters, the words, wasn’t enough, huh, beating out of his chest with the knowledge that it was; it was, Sirius, it was.

“What have you done?” Bellatrix half screams, half gasps out, turning on Narcissa, raising her wand towards her sister.

Narcissa has none of Bellatrix’s strong, ferocious features but she lifts her chin in the same haughty manner, the way Sirius and Regulus did, prepared to go down if that’s what it takes. “I have lost my sisters, my cousins and my husband to him,” she says, her jaw set, as she lets the dagger fall down and grabs her wand instead, pointing it directly at Bellatrix. “I will not lose my son, too.”

“Fool,” Bellatrix spits out, slashing her wand at Narcissa, who parries it with a quickness Remus wouldn’t have expected of her. It devolves into a fierce back-and-forth but Remus is forced to look away when a curse comes flashing his way.

He ducks out of the way and sends a retaliating one, pausing only for a moment to make sure it hits home. He turns and finds Otis half-heartedly ducking out of the way of white spells. While the Death Eater isn’t focused, Remus sends a Stunning Spell his way and doesn’t wait for him to hit the ground before he spins his wand on another one.

A part of Remus doesn’t want the battle to be over because when it is, there will be no way to keep the fresh memories at bay. He is nearly lost in it, in the dodge-and-shoot rhythm, when a familiar throaty shout reaches him.

“Lily!”

Heart thrumming up to his throat, Remus turns and sees, to his and James’s horror, Lily facing off against Bellatrix and deflecting a curse that would have likely finished off Narcissa, who is pressed against a column with no wand in hand. Her stance is sure, feet spread wide apart to keep her steady, and the sheer fury carved into her face gives even Remus pause. The best duellist of their generation, back on her feet, and ready to make a lasting impression.

The spells shoot out of their wands in rapid succession, far too dangerous to disturb from either side and it makes all the others pause and watch. More than once, they have to dodge out of the way of a redirected spell. Lily's sleeve darkens with her blood; Bellatrix's leg buckles every few, unsure steps.

“Is that all you have, Mudblood?” Bellatrix taunts, with none of her previous delight; her voice is full of rage and if she had had time to think about it, Remus is certain there would be grief there as well.

Lily jumps out of the way of a red streak, hair flying, and twists her arm through the air, making her wand only a blur of light wood. The purple spell hits, right over Bellatrix’s heart and she falls much like her master did: with none of the ceremony that seemed to have been reserved for her in life, the way all mortals fall.

“No,” Lily says, pushing her hair out of the way, face stripped of all anger and slowly washed by exhaustion. She crosses the space back to James, who is kneeling with Harry, and folds herself into his arms. Remus hears her murmur, “This is all I have.”

Half-lost, he steps forward to join them but a sharp cry makes him look up instead. Fawkes has appeared in the sky, gleaming gold and red, with Dumbledore holding onto his long tail. They land in the middle of the courtyard, Fawkes unharmed and Dumbledore with a charred beard but their presence seems to be enough to make the rest of the Death Eaters concede. Lucius Malfoy, kneeling by Narcissa’s side with his fingers over her cheek, is the first one to throw his wand to the ground.

The rest of the happenings seem like peculiar snapshots to Remus: the able picking up the injured, checking the dead, Dumbledore binding the Death Eaters, Fawkes bowing low over a few bodies, the werewolves slowly coming together. He can only watch, pain spiking up every time he breathes.

When everything settles like dust, McGonagall is the first one to move, limping and with dirt-smudged robes, almost toward Dumbledore until she steps past him – to Sirius and Regulus, Remus realises with a painful tug that begins in his lungs and ends somewhere around his liver. “Sirius,” she says as she drops down beside him, her hand gentle over his slack face, painted in dramatic, torchlight-falling lines: high cheekbones, arching brows, sharp jaw. Remus’s eyes burn. He thought, for a moment, that he might get to look into his eyes again and tell him – tell him something, anything, that would have crumbled away this bitter ache; now he can’t even scream. “Sirius, I’m sorry.”

The words seem too familiar for someone so far removed from Sirius, from the pain he caused and the bridges he burned. She had her fondness for them in their school years but to be so openly mourning the death of someone she must have thought was a Death Eater less than an hour ago seems – it seems –

There’s a familiar presence in his space, a gentle hand between his shoulder blades. He faces Lily, who has Harry in her arms and is looking up at him with glassy eyes. Her lips are twisted down and her eyelashes dotted with tears, the side of her face crusted with blood. Remus draws her against him, pressing his cheek to the top of her head, and hopes her warmth makes it down to all the parts of him that have frozen over.

“Hi,” he breathes when Harry reaches for him suddenly, small fingers grabbing over his shirt. He takes him from Lily and wraps his arms around him as Harry clings to him, just like he clung to Sirius. Blood soaks his fringe, pooling around the new wound across his forehead, and Remus uses his wand to Vanish it away for the time being, then draws him tighter against himself, thankful despite everything that it isn’t this small body that’s lying among the motionless ones strewn across the courtyard. “Hi, little one.”

There’s a sob behind him and he turns to see Marlene crouched down with her hands pressed across her mouth, shaking her head. Her eyes are focused on Sirius and McGonagall but she leans into Dorcas when she kneels beside her and hugs her to her chest. It’s not unlike how she was all those years ago on a cold December night, crumpled in on herself on the floor of his small apartment, begging them to tell her it’s not true. Remus’s heart wants to go out to her but it is shackled by its own pain.

James’s approach is slow, the antithesis of a man rushing to his friend’s side, desperate to find out if his heart still beats; his steps are heavy with the knowledge that no life is waiting to greet him. He folds his knees underneath himself and reaches for Sirius’s hand, his face contorted into anguish, brown skin sallow. Remus has seen the expression on his face too many times throughout war and aimed at the face beneath his even more than that. Only Sirius, Remus think with more painful humour than he feels, could have broken their hearts over and over, years after they were supposed to let him go.

“James.” McGonagall looks up at James with big eyes, her forehead creased up. Her hand shoots out and wraps around his wrist, quick enough it makes even James look at her in surprise. If it hadn’t been such a strange day all together, Remus might have thought McGonagall to have truly lost her mind. “Tell me I’m not imagining it,” she says, voice hoarse, as she brings James’s hand to Sirius’s neck and presses his fingers there.

James lets out a low, breathless sound and bows down to press the side of his face to Sirius’s chest. “It can’t be,” he whispers.

“What is it?” Marlene asks, drawing herself up, swaying on the balls of her feet. “James, what is it?”

McGonagall lets go of James and Sirius to push herself toward Regulus and feel against his neck, too. She stays silent for a few moments, chest heaving with quick, shallow breaths. Then she faces back to them, her lips curved up into a near-smile. Her laugh comes out sudden and small, disbelieving and out of place among the downtrodden winners, but it makes something in Remus’s chest bloom up.

“They’re breathing.”

___

A/N: To the tumblr anon who asked me if they could write "so and so finds out about Sirius": please don't let the fact that this part of the story is done discourage you from writing the rest of your ideas. I'd still very much love to read them.

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calpops · 4 years

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Waitttt okay so for that dates with Calum thing, can you imagine our soft boi having a dream about his future with his girl? Like I’m talking the whole nine yards - proposal, marriage, kids, growing old together. And maybe he wakes up in a sweat(?) because he wasn’t expecting that type of dream and he sees her sleeping next to him and his heart just explodes and he literally wakes her up to talk about it and idk if you are still doing this thread but this idea hit me and yeah

Calum falls asleep with you next to him in the new house. The home is new but the routine is old. Every night starts in the same ways, climbing in bed together, whispering while limbs are entangled and heads rest against chests and heartbeats are counted and kept in time with each other. Calum is surprised at the ease of routine, the heavy eyelids that accompany comfortable positions and soft words that either mean the world or amount to nothing more than hearing each other’s voices.

Calum had dreamt of you before; usually flickering images of the day previous floating through his unconscious mind. He could dream your smile and the blush that stained your cheeks, he could dream the giggle that escaped you in breathy wisps and wake with the noise still ringing in his ears. But all those dreams were just floating memories, time spent with you replaying in flashes as he slept. Tonight is different. His slumber is deeper, dreams more vivid and lifelike. His perception of reality momentarily becomes skewed as you become the center of his dreams. They’re flashes, just like usual, but it’s not the past that befalls his mind, not this time. This time it’s a life he has not yet lived that filters in; it’s his hopes painted in watercolor dreams that grace him through the dark night.

He sees you backlit by a halo of light, a smile he’s all too familiar with playing timidly at the corners of your lips. It’s a shy smile but the sparkle in your eyes and the way your hand reaches for his speaks comfort. It’s not until his dream self looks down that he catches the gleam of a ring on your finger and he realizes he’s poised on one knee, looking up at the love of his life; the person he intends to marry. His sweetheart. And although the thought of marriage once rattled him he’s taken away with ease to the next flickering image of you.

You’re in the backyard of your shared home and Calum finds nothing unordinary in the ever shifting dream. The flowers are in bloom, the sun shines on you in beautiful beams. Calum’s dream self surmises it’s afternoon, shadows dance along the backyard and colors shift and swirl and the mundane vision becomes extraordinary. You’re suddenly in his arms, adorned in white and Mrs. Hood falls from his lips in a tilted and excited way. It’s new but feels natural, it’s filled with sparks and your reaction—soft eyes and nod of acknowledgement at the new last name—sends him leaning forward, trying in vain to capture dream you in a kiss.

It’s at that very moment the world around him changes once more. The only constant in the ever shifting dreamscape is you. You always come into his line of vision, the dark fading away as your light shines through. This time you’re standing, leaning against the kitchen counter with a small chocolate bar dipped in peanut butter in your clutches. It’s not strange to him; the combination among your favorite indulgences. But when his eyes wander down and finds your free hand cradling a baby bump his heart leaps. He’d thought of kids but he’d always written it off to a maybe or a someday or his usual maybe someday. Not with you though. Now he’s sure. He knows he wants someday to come and there’s a part of him that hopes maybe someday might be soon.

The next flicker drives you away. He’s not sure where you’ve gone; if the dream has shifted and taken you from his unconscious mind. It’s not until he realizes the weight in his arms and looks down. He finds you in the features of your child together. A beautiful baby with his eyes and your nose. He knows he’s dreaming but this maybe someday has him wrapped around a tiny pinky. Your baby giggles, just like you, and grabs Calum’s thumb and his heart. In what feels like split seconds he watches your two lives become three and then four. A son and a daughter. He sees you raising children together and perhaps it’s a bit idyllic but white picket fences and swing sets build visions of the future. Fences and swing sets turn to porch swings and sunsets, old ages not separating you as he saw your lives play out together and wrinkled hands reach for each other, the ring he dropped to one knee to give you still graces your finger.

Calum wakes with a start, a sheen of sweat coats his forehead and though the dreams had been peaceful his heart hammers in his chest. He’s sat bolt upright as he chances a look at you painted by moonlight. His heart calms as he takes in your sleeping form, the way your lips slightly part and the tousled hair splayed across the pillow case that will result in bed head come morning. He can’t bite back a grin as he shifts and leans down to you—the trepidation and heart racing wake up call melting away as he remembers flashes of a life he wants to live. He presses a kiss to your forehead, gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and murmurs a soft sweetheart in the hopes of waking you with ease. He has to tell you about his dream. He needs you to know all that he saw. He needs to know if you can picture the same.

“Cal?” You grumble, voice weak with exhaustion from the chaos of moving. For a moment he feels bad for waking you, rational mind reckoning he could have waited until morning. But your small smile as your eyes flutter open and meet his tells him it’s okay. “What time is it?”

“I don’t know sweetheart,” Calum answers, realizing he hadn’t checked a clock, only the moon still being in the sky giving him any sense of time. “Late.”

“What’s wrong?” You wonder as his gaze settles on your hand that clutches the comforter.

“Had a dream,” he begins, finding it hard to put it all into words. His cadence is slow as you furrow your brows and await more explanation; having never been woken by Calum because of a dream.

“Was it a nightmare?” You ask as he continues to collect the words.

He quickly shakes his head ‘no’. “It was about us. Our lives. It was everything I want.”

Calum welcomes you as you maneuver to be in his hold, head resting against his chest to listen to his words and the rhythmic thrum of his heartbeat. His arms are strong yet soft around you and he presses his chin to the top of your head.

“Everything?” You ask hesitantly, teeth sinking into your lower lip at the end of the question.

“Everything. You wore my ring, you had my last name, we had children and a picket fence and a porch swing. We had each other, we had everything.”

“I want all of that too,” you whisper and Calum’s heart soars at the confirmation.

“Mostly I just want you,” Calum adds on, knowing that fences and porch swings and accessories to life would be meaningless without you in the picture. “I love you, sweetheart.”

You tap his chest three times; right in time with his heart beat and he knows it means you love him too. He falls asleep once more, this time with dreams of certainty that you want everything with him. That being together is everything.

***

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lennydaisy · 3 years

Text

SWAN SONG || The Walking Dead || CHAPTER TWO.

‘You have to trust that every friendship has no end, that a communion of saints exists among all those, living and dead, who have truly loved God and one another.

You know from experience how real this is. Those you have loved deeply and who have died live on in you, not just as memories but as real presences.’

HENRI NOUWEN

The Walking Dead.

Season 1-?

FEM OC! and ?

Hope you like it :)) and here is the link to CHAPTER ONE!

My home is nothing but radiant. It's a place that is constantly filled with smiles and laughter and sometimes the occasional tear, but no matter what we get through it because we are a family. It's filled with so many memories; like when Corey and I tried to make mom a cake for her birthday and ended up spending her birthday at the hospital because Corey somehow got a teaspoon stuck up her left nostril, or when I came home from school claiming to have a new pet. My mom thought it would have been a snail or a worm, like something normal, but no I was a bit of a weird kid and brought home a skunk. I don't know how I found it or how I managed to get it to rest peacefully in my school backpack all day, but what I do know is that we all had to spend a week at a motel whitest our house got deep cleaned.

I had my first heartbreak in this house, my room filling up with tears like that one scene from Alice in Wonderland, only difference was I was 6 years old and claimed I had already met the love of my life.

This house has blessed me with so many things. One of those things being a chance. A chance at a normal upbringing in a comfortable home. It also blessed me with 2 sisters at the age of 4 and the most amazing mother I could have ever asked for. At the end of the day, my home, 76 Baden Way, Mormont, is the one consistent happiness in my life.

That's why I'm confused.

The drive up the all too familiar street was oddly unsettling. It didn't feel right. To be fair I didn't grow up in a white picket community with neighbours that give you cookies every fortnight or invite you to their weekly barbecues in their freshly mowed lawns, but it wasn't a bad place.

Was I gone for too long, it's only been a couple of days.

The houses that once stood tall, the house that once signified homeliness, now appear to be on there last leg. The once standing, chipped fences are now nonexistent, flattened into the ground. The once curtained windows, with the occasional flower pot on the window sill, are now completely bored up, no light being shown into the what I assume darkened houses.

Normally finding parking in my street is a nightmare, it's always something for somebody. Whether it be a birthday or a family get together, there is never any space for me to park my car relatively close to my own house. Of course, I complain, it's annoying, but for some reason being able to just drive straight into my own driveway is sickening to me. Where's mom's car?

My car whistles to a stop as I cut the engine. Neither I or Cora dare to move as we look upon what we once called home. The once fully in season apple tree is now snapped basically in half, rotten apples scattered around the dying grass. As for the house itself, it's not doing so hot either, the garage door is now covered with large indents in the shapes of fists, the odd splatter of blood causing bile to gather in my mouth. The usually crystal clear windows are now dust-ridden and black with ash, unable to see what's within the once homely home.

"What it like this when you left for school this morning?" I question Cora, the unsettling feeling that our home is giving me makes my voice lose all strength.

Shaking her head timidly, "No," she replies, "Everything was normal."

'Now is as good a time as any', I thought as I reach over into the passages seat pocket, grabbing my Cloy Python. Looking my scared sister in the eye I said, "You can stay in the car if you want. I'll scoop the place out, make sure it's safe."

Shaking her head vigorously at my suggesting, gripping onto my arm, prohibiting me from leaving the car alone, "I'd feel a lot safer with you." If it wasn't for the situation I would have poked fun at her for needing her big sister but honestly, I'd feel safer with her too.

Nodding my head, I exit the car and make my way around the front of our house. With shaky legs, Cora stands as tall as she could beside me. Not knowing what we're about to walk into, I detach my baton from my belt and hand it to my timid sister. With trembling but understanding hands she clutched it tightly, white-knuckled.

Mom normal locks the door, no matter what, it's always locked. That's the first sign that somethings wrong. The front down just swung open. I keep my gun raised as I slowly step into my house, the sound of glass crunching under my combat boots, the side window had been smashed. Would explain why the doors unlocked.

"Someone else could be here, be careful, stay alert," I whisper to my sister how had barely moved an inch into our house, my baton still stuck to her right hand.

The dark wood cabinet, where all our favourite captured memories were framed, is now broken, laying on its fronts, surrounded by glass and water from the Fine China flower vase.

Bending down to flip over one of the pictures scattered on the floor, only to be met with the smiling faces of my family. We went to the Grand Canyon a few years ago, we were all so excited but we didn't check the weather. Who knew the Grand Canyon, y'know that big dry place, had flash floods, beats me, but that didn't stop out Mom from forcing us to still have a picnic on the waterlogged grass. 'It's all part of the experience' she said. If the experience was having a cold for weeks after the trip then we nailed it. I couldn't help but smile it the silly but fond memory, but I guess with the way the world is headed moments of endearment and reminiscing don't last very long.

A subtly whistle from my sister causes me to raise to my feet slowly, turning to see her pointing quietly into the family room. Standing still for a minute or so, the loud silence is broken by the soft sound of pattering feet. Signalling for my sister to stay behind me, I stalk my way into the room. Expecting to see one of those things in our living room, I flip the safety of my revolver, taking aim. As though glued to the spot, my legs for some reason forgetting how to work as my eyes settle on a figure standing, back towards us, facing the bookshelf. Not moving like any of those things from before, or making any similar noises, I come to the conclusion that's there is a person in our house. A person I don't know.

"Stay where you are and don't move," my once shaky voice now filled nothing but authority as I order the person before us to halt. Getting the picture, the person raised their hands slowly not daring to move another inch, "Who are you and why are you in my house?" I question, my aim on the back of their head never flatters.

"Ain't no need for that now little missy" their thick Geogiran accent breaking through the tense air in the room, "what happened to a little common southern hospitality?" He asks laughing clearly not taking any of this seriously.

"You broke into my house and you expect what, a welcome party. Oh wait and I'll fetch the balloons," the sarcasm rolls of my tongue like venom. The nerve of this guy.

"Correction I didn't break-in, I was pleasantly granted access," he corrects cocking his head to the side. Even though I can't see his face I already know that's there's a shit-eating grin.

"Granted access by who?" Perks up Cora, her voice not as protruding towards the figure but her point still stands.

Seeing the man nodding his head in acknowledgement, clicking his tongue in the roof of his mouth, "ah you're the sisters. The cop and the college chick," he laughed, his hands no longer held up but instead on his knees as he leans over slightly in laughter. Not understanding what's so funny, I cock my gun causing him to shot back up to attention, any signs of joking no completely evaporated into thin air.

Turning his head slightly despite my order to not move, his stubbly side profile coming into view, half a smirk lazily dancing along his face, "I take it you're the bad cop," he attempts to joke again, but it falls short, in a situation like this, one that has my moms safety on the line, is not the time to be Mr Comedian.

"Where's my mom" I rolled my eyes at the man, asking the serious question at hand. If he as much laid a single finger on her, I swear, if he thinks I'm the bad cop now, he's got another thing coming.

"Well if that's what you wanted this whole time you should have just asked little missy," he exclaims turning round to fully face us. He's a shaggy looking man, looking to be in his early 40s. His short blond hair sitting a mess on the top of his head. He has a few scars here and there and eyes that sent an uneasy shiver down my spine. His attire, clad in an old button-down shirt and a dirty wife-beater that looks to be stained with sweat from the Atlanta heat.

I already knew he was armed, spotting the gun that was tucked tightly into the back pocket of his cargo pants. Based on looks alone I already know what type of man I'm dealing with here. A stereotypical, boorish, southern redneck. Most of these men are ticking time bombs and the fact that one has found there way into my home, the place where my mother is, doesn't sit right with me.

"Come on out now Charlotte," He called out of the broken-down door, leading to the stairs, "I think it was a bird," he mutters, kicking this right leg quickly. Looking down at the ground, aside from the broken glass and wood chips, there are also feathers. Must have been the bird he was talking about.

The sound of light feet pattering down the stairs causes my ear to twitch, almost cat-like, but I don't flatter my aim on the man, "are you sure, I thought I heard-" the voice of my mother echos through the room from behind me. Mom. As subtly as possible I attempted to flip the safety back on my gun, not want to catch the attention of the man before me, but the silence fails me yet again, the soft clicking of my gun makes the man look at me, a knowing grin on his face. Cocky bastard.

"Cora, Macy," relieves mom, as she rushes over the glittering glass, skidding with friction, pulling both of us into a bone-crushing hug, "you're okay?" She asks as she separated from us, holding us at an arms distance, looking us over for signs of injury.

"Mom, Mom! We're fine," Cora reassures our panicking mother, holding her ageing face between her hands, looking her seriously in the eye, "we're okay."

Yeah, we might be but what about her.

My mom is a colourful woman. She always said 'the world is simply in black and white, but that doesn't mean we can't add our own colours'. Whether it is a bold pair of earrings or an eyesore of a scarf, she is always surrounded by colour, but not today. She clad in a shirt that appears to big for her petite frame, baggy jeans and hiking boots. No colour, just black and white, not like our mother at all. Her hair resembling that of a birds nest and her glasses sitting at a slant. She doesn't look put together.

"This is Merle," my mom waves her hand in the direction of the man whose eyes have not left mine, not so subtly looking me up and down with a look that makes me feel sick to my stomach, "He and his brother saved me from those people, brought me back here safely."

"That we did Charlotte," this Merle character near enough shouts in reply. 'What is this man so damn loud for?', "Just a bit of Southern hospitality. Something your daughter here could learn about," he says clearly not liking the fact that I still have my gun pointed in his direction.

"Macy put the gun down," the stern voice of my mother caused me to holster my gun against my thigh, but I refuse to let my guard down. I don't trust this Merle, whether he saved my mom or not, something just doesn't sit right with me.

"That's more like it girly," he says sounding assertive as if he has just won. It pretty clear that the man has some military experience. I can feel it in the air. The way he thinks he can control the room and the people in it, "My baby brother should be back soon, but I say we meet him halfway."

Is this some kind of joke?

"Look thanks for help our mom," I eventually cave into thanking the man, "But no way in hell are we going anywhere with you."

"Now I think your mommy over there would disagree with that?"

I turn to look at my mother who has a reluctant look in her eye, but not at the sketchy man in our living room, but at me. Is she really thinking about leaving with this man? Everything about him screams red flags and that's not just because I'm a cop but from just general observation. This is the type of man you would not want to meet alone at night.

"He and his brother have plans to head for Fort Benning," My mom starts slowly, clearly trying to find the right words, "I thought we could go with them."

I'm already shaking my head as my mom is speaking and I can hear her breath getting quicker and quicker, panicking, "Please," she begs, her voice cracking as I notice the tears building up in her eyes, "Please Macy, I want us to be safe."

Safe.

With the way things are going, I don't know how much longer we can be safe. I’ve always seen my home as the safest place on earth. It's where I live. It's where I grew up. My whole life started here in this very house, surrounded by people that I love. I always swore to protect my family. I didn't know what I would have to protect them from but seems as though the time has come to prove this more than ever.

"Ah, now Macy, baby," Merle begins to taunt, starting to walk closer but stops when he sees my hand rest on my gun again, "What kind of daughter would you be to deny your mom of safety."

"Why don't you just stay the fuck out of this?" I snapped at the man how held his hands up in defence and walked over to our couch bending down to pick up the rifle that I failed to notice resting on the table.

"Macy," I hear Cora whisper from behind me and when I turn to look at her the look in her eye tells it all. She's scared.

She's scared.

Mom's scared.

I'm scared.

"Where's this brother of yours?" I sigh turning to face Merle who is looking out of the window, his eyes darting from left to right.

"Away hunting," he shrugs, "should be back in an hour or two, but we're losing light. I say we meet him halfway."

For some reason, my mom just agrees with this and turns to Cora, telling her to pack a bag for her and me. My mom wonders off to wait outside, but I stay put. I don't trust this man, and I sure as hell don't trust him wandering around my house where both my mom and sister are. I stand my ground and clear my throat causing merle to turn in my direction, "Try anything, and I won't hesitate to put one between your eyes."

"I'd like to see you try," he lets out a burly laugh before pushing his way past me and out of the front door.

'What have I gotten myself into?' I thought as the sound of a car door slamming shut snaps me from my own world.

Call it wishful thinking, I already knew the answers to the question that was spinning around in my head. She wasn't back, and she was never going to come back. But there was no harm in checking. Right?

Bare. Empty. Any trance of anybody living in this room had been completely erased. It's hard to believe two people I held so dearly to my heart lived here. The once painted black walls which were covered with the typical posters of any rebellious teenager are now newly painted white, hiding all the scratches or chips that were previously there. I kind of glad about the change of walls, in my opinion, once you reach the age of 30 it's maybe time to let go of your rebellion.

All that is left is a set of drawers, a double mattress on the floor with no covers and a small single mattress on the other side of the room. Moving over to the dust-ridden drawers, I pulled open the first one and to no avail, it's completely empty. What was I expecting? She's been gone for years and she was never coming back. Especially not now.

It might sound dumb but every night after she left, I would leave her bedroom light on hoping that it would encourage her to come back home. But she never did. Mom eventually got annoyed about finding me asleep outside of Ally's bedroom door every night and had to have a word with me. Sure I stopped leaving a light on for her, but that didn't mean that I missed her any less.

Without Ally being around I had to step up and fill in the gap that she had left in our family. Ally was always the hardass. The tough one. If you were in a fight you'd want Ally in your corner. Despite anything that she says, she did love her family at one point. She was always on our side. In our corner.

Then one moment that all changed. We had a new addition to the family.

Little DeeDee.

DeeDee, my sweet little niece. Such a sweet kid, not a bad bone in her body. It's almost hard to believe that she's my sister's daughter. What they lacked in a shared personality they make up for in identical looks, they look the spits of each other, a true carbon copy.

When my sister found out she was pregnant she ran away. Telling not a soul why. Except for me.

I found out on my own, we have always told her to clean up after her self or something might happen. Well hi, I'm that something. She never kept me updated through the duration of her pregnancy, not like I expected her too, she just up and left. Until DeeDee turned 3. It's only been a year since she came home and she's was more disconnected than ever, especially with mom.

The rattle of an all too familiar engine interrupts my conversation with mom. Giving each other a knowing look with flickers of uncertainty as though maybe we heard wrong.

We didn't hear wrong.

The pounding of her heavy-duty boots slapping against the hardwood floor, echoing through the entire house. The house was so silent you could probably hear a pin drop.

Mom went to 'greet' her first, myself in tail, just in case this all goes south which it most likely will. We haven't seen or even heard from her for well over 3 years now, it got to the point where we all just assumed that she was never coming back. It explains the shock towards her arrival. Well, half of her arrival.

"Ally... your home," mom squeaks out unable to hide the overwhelming shock in her voice. It's awkward, so awkward that it makes me want to itch. The passing eye contact between one another speaks more than their unspoken words.

The reunion of a mother and her absent daughter.

The shock must have gotten to mom's head because she failed to notice the new soul in the room with us. A person we have never had the pleasure to meet. Standing behind her mother, not tall enough to reach her hip yet, is a little girl. All wrapped in a cosy jacket despite the Atlanta heat is the reason why I haven't seen my sister in 3 years.

Moving forward to where Ally can fully see me, making brief eye contact before kneeling down before the little girl. Hands tugging tightly on her mother's leg as she hides her face from mine. It's understandable, I'm an unknown face, so I decided to introduce myself, "Hello," I said gentle, just looking at the innocent girl softly not wanting to overstep my boundaries, "I'm Macy."

I'm oblivious to my surroundings, so much so that I didn't hear the stampede of feet rocketing down the stairs. The only thing I'm focusing on is this little girl. She just looks at me in what I'm assuming is confusion because she's never seen me before and I her. It's new for all of us.

"What's your name?"

I honestly didn't expect an answer, she looked like such a delicate flower, but a genuine smile covered my face when she said "Lydia" in the quietest voice I've ever heard.

"Nice to meet you, Lydia," I say as I reached my hand forward for her to take in her own, and she did. Slowly but surely her hand was in mine, her tiny hand. Smiling softly at Lydia hoping to have her mirror my actions, she does, but it's short-lived as I'm sucked back into the reality that is the rest of my family.

"So you run off, get knocked up and have the audacity to come back here 3 years later begging for a place to stay," laughed Cora at the mentality of her older sister. I can't help but shake my head as I let go of Lydia's hand, her smile falling behind my back, "Cora, she had a kid," I said to my sister hoping to get her to understand, but it seems as though I don't understand either.

"Oh no the kid can stay, but her," she laughed at the thought, "no chance, not again," shaking her head at the idea of us welcoming Ally back into our home, into our family again. Cora is strong-minded, no doubt about it, but when it comes to her family, if anyone stands in between them and happiness, even if it's our family themselves, they best hope they don't cross Cora.

Cora and Ally have never gotten along. I've always blamed it on the fact that they are too much alike. Cora may be extremely vocal about everything, but Ally is too, just minus the vocal part. You can tell a lot about Ally and how she's feeling just by looking at her. And right now she looks vulnerable. She has a child and I don't know where she has been staying for the last few years but right now she's homeless and what type of family would we be if we shunned out our own.

A terrible one that's what.

"Corrina, if she wants to stay she can stay. If she wants to go she can go. This is just as much her home as it is yours," mom ushered out all in one breath, still baffled that her daughter and newly found granddaughter are standing before her.

I really feel for our mother, ever since Ally vanished she hasn't been the same. It was a drastic change, not enough for the people she sees on her daily shop, but us, her family have noticed that a little light behind our mother's eyes has been duller than usual. Looking at her right now, the light is still flickering but instead with hope. Hope at a new beginning with her daughter and her granddaughter.

"If you ever leave my mother like that again, after everything she has done for us, especially you, it'll be the last thing you do," threatens Cora, never breaking her eyes from Ally who is doing the same.

Coming back to her senses, Ally snaps out of the trance that is Cora's eyes, clicking her fingers like a royal pain in the ass, "Lydia, come," she orders the little girl as she readies herself for the March up the stairs.

Noticing that her mother is no longer standing in front of her, hiding her from the picture that is her family, she rushes to her mother not before looking at me though and I can't help but feel bad, "Lydia if you want you can stay down here, I can make you something to eat," I said trying my best to convince the little girl that she doesn't have to do everything her mother says, but little Lydia shakes her head in rejection.

Maybe it's because she genuinely just wants to stay with her mom in a foreign place or it could be that her mom is staring at her, as though waiting for Lydia to make the wrong choice. P.S I'm the wrong choice in this situation, according to her.

Stomping her away up the stairs like an angry teenager, she leaves her daughter behind assuming that she will just follow her like a helpless puppy. Unable to hide my pity for the little girl, I attempt to cheer her up a bit, "see you soon DeeDee," I promised as a subtle smile appeared on the 3-year-olds face before running after her mother's tail.

The hallway is left in silence, not an awkward silence but just a thoughtful one. The same thoughts and feelings are running through all our minds; Ally's back, with a child. She was bad enough on her own, but now with a daughter, I fear not only for us but for that little girl.

Rubbing my eyes, as the only thought that is running through my mind behind 'this is not my fault', 'there was nothing I could have done to make her stay', no matter what, if she left for a reason or not, I just hope she keeps DeeDee safe because God knows she never done that when she was here anyway.

Just as I had enough of the energy to leave he room, a pile of papers tucked under Ally's mattress caught my attention. Behind down to pull them out, I'm shocked at what she had hidden. It as a collection of loose picture. My curiosity getting the better of me, I start to flick through them, she not here to tell me otherwise.

There are ones from her senior year of high school and her only 2 friends, who I've only had the pleasure of meeting once. On was called Barrett from what I remember, I don't remember the other name, all I know is that the unknown friend mysteriously disappeared a few years after they left high school.

The rest of the picture where weird but oddly boring, snaps of her smoking and drinking, kicking a few gravestones, y'know typical Ally behaviour. It's the last picture that struck me, made my blood run cold but in a comforting way. It's a picture of Ally and I for that time I shaved my head. I briefly remember mom taking it after me begging for hours, trying to convince her and Ally that this was a moment the was worth capturing.

There I stood, tall and proud, both hands on my head with a cheeky grin plastering on my beetroot face, my eyes holding a sheen of water from laughing. It's a contrasting picture. Ally slouched beside me, well a wingspan away from me, because I'm was an embarrassment to her. Her eyes deadly staring into the camera, making no effort to show any emotion.

I remember being disappointed with her lack of effort in the picture, but looking at it now it's perfect. It really shows how we were and are. I always wondered where this picture went. Mom got it reluctantly developed for me and even framed it for my bedside table. I only had it for a few days before it went missing. At first, I blamed mom, believe she wanted to erase the memory from her brain, but all this time Ally had it, and that oddly warms my heart. Sure it was hidden under her bed, but she still had it and kept it. Now I'm deciding to take it back because if the world continues the way it going, I don't know when the next time I'll see my sister will be.

"Do you think we'll ever see her again?" the sudden voice breaking through the air causing me to jump, and I spin around to find Cora leaning on the door frame, looking around the room in wonder just as I had moments before.

"If you asked me a week ago I would have said yes," I replied looking down at the picture in my hand before folding it and putting it into my back pocket, "Now I don't know."

The thought of Ally coming home was always a distant one. I wanted to believe that the day would come where she would be back and our family would be whole again. That was when the world was normal and even then she still showed no signs of ever coming back.

It seems to me as though the world as we know it is changing, coming to an end if you will. The though of Ally coming home was a longshot before but now more than ever.

A redneck just apparently saved my mom life for crying out loud and now I'm having to drive with said redneck to find his brother.

The worlds went mad.

It's changed and I don't know if I like it.

But it seems like I have no choice.

And thats chapter two done. Its going to be an interesting ride thats for sure.

You got to learn some more about Ally and we also met the lovely man that it Merle Dixon.

If you want to be tagged when I post for this AU just ask and I will for sure do that.

But anyways, yeah, I hope you liked it.

DAISY.

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sp00kworm · 4 years

Text

The Deep Dark (Gang Orca x Gender Neutral Reader)

A/N: I love and would die for Gang Orca in his save the whales shirt thank you. Also cross-posted on AO3!

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Kuugo sighed at the wall of the glass tank, watching the fish, they eyed his intimidating form each time they got close before scattering off back around to the reef. They seemed to forget he was there each time and quickly shoaled back around before escaping again in a flicker of silver. He was too wrapped up in his own head. He’d been invited to this aquarium to do an introduction piece for the patrons, yet all he got was wide eyed looks and terrified children bawling as he took to the stage, dressed in his suit jacket with a ‘save the whales’ t-shirt underneath. He thought the shirt was cute. The stylist even assured him it made him look much softer! Evidently the children did not agree. They agreed even less so when he creaked the wood of the stage and smiled, sharp teeth exposed and cape flapping as he opened his clawed hands in a pose.

“Mama! He’s going to eat me!” One boy cried into his mother’s legs, hiding his head behind her thigh as Gang Orca rumbled about the growing whale populations in the oceans.

“Papa!” A girl sobbed into her dad’s shoulder, and even the father himself didn’t look far from running himself as Kuugo gestured a clawed, black hand to the ribbon. He was quick to bow and snip the ribbon open before sighing in a cascade of clicks and growls, moving inside the building and out of sight of the crying children.

“Mama I don’t want to go inside with the monster!” Another boy screeched. Gang Orca simply sighed inside the door, wetting his hands and rubbing the palms over the curve of his head, rehydrating the thick skin with a grumble, ducking inside the back rooms to get rid of his work costume.

If he couldn’t make the kids happy, then at least he could enjoy the cool temperatures and the sights of the aquarium. Maybe he should abandon hope of ever being the sight of a hero instead of a monster? Kuugo grumbled as he looked at his charity shirt, dressed down in expensive jeans and some expensive trainers. He didn’t exactly look like the rest of the people packed in here for a day out with their children or partners, but he didn’t mind getting a few looks. Red eyes stared back at him as he fastened his watch and reached back to push at his strong dorsal fin. The killer whale male reached for his bottle of water and rubbed his wet, clawed hand over his head, grumbling softly before pushing two bottles into his back pockets. If it got a little warm, he would no doubt need them while in the crowds.

Now he was stood staring at the shoals inside the deepest tank. Little reef sharks swam past, eyes rolling and eyelids fluttering at him as he glared with red eyes into the tank. He looked just as intimidating without the cape and white suit, and Kuugo reached to pluck at the tight t-shirt over his chest. There was no doubting his profession really. Well, maybe his scary persona would mean children thought he was a villain, but his physique gave him away in all honesty. Still, as he looked around, he realised the quivering hero fans were simply too scared to come and talk to him. Good, he thought, as he gazed at the deeper little stone reefs, the tropical fish swarming around something that had appeared within one of the coral pieces. He didn’t much feel like talking after his humiliation on stage. Kids were a poor audience for him it seemed. Maybe a room full of adults would have fared better against his intimidating disposition? He could only wonder as he gazed at a baby shark. It was small, not very old, and captured the attention of the children a little further down the corridor.

“Ah, excuse me, sir? Can I squeeze in next to you? They said the baby shark was coming past.” A soft voice broke him from his grumpy ramblings in his own head.

You had no idea that a pro-hero was in attendance of this new aquarium opening day until Gang Orca had climbed on the stage. He was just as intimidating as the polls said, but you watched him shuffle a speech on the stand and shift from foot to foot in his charity t-shirt, grumbling excitedly about the projects underway to protect the ocean life around Japan. He seemed a lot less threatening then, in his whale shirt with a love heart, and an embarrassed blush on his face as the kids cried. It was heart breaking, but he seemed to get it together quickly and professionally. The ribbon was cut and he disappeared before you could ask him about anything, but you figured it was probably to hide from the multitude of crying children in the audience and their unnerved parents. It was a little but rude, but people would be people after all.

The pro-hero jumped at the brush of your hand against his back, red eyes blinking before he tilted his head to peer down at you. He wasn’t hugely tall, not in the way All Might was, but standing at six foot six inches, he had plenty of height over most normal humans, quirks or no quirks, “Of course.” He replied, stepping back and to the side to let you slip in front of him as the baby shark came past, mouth open, baby fangs glinting as it watched the people press up against the glass. It was an inquisitive little monster. Gang Orca watched with a quirk in his snout, smiling with teeth that made the children walking past clutch their mothers’ hands.

“Oh, he’s so cute!” You pressed a hand to the glass, turning your head to watch the shark whizz around the next viewing window with a bright smile, “Thank you for letting me see, sir.”

Kuugo nodded his head, “Its not a problem…And the sir isn’t necessary.” He reached for his tie, only to remember it wasn’t there, and instead searched for something to do with his claws.

“I…” You took a breath and turned, notebook in hand, “I really liked your speech about the ocean projects going on, even if the kids didn’t.”

The killer whale felt his face go hot underneath his thick skin, the blood colouring his cheeks with a blush you didn’t think was possible, “Thank you. I only wish the kids had liked it too.” He huffed, blow hole snorting air as he tucked his clawed hands into his pockets.

“I’m serious. It was really good!” You smiled at the intimidating male and pointed into the tank, “Would you like someone to walk around with, Sir?”

Kuugo eyed you with his piercing gaze, bright red eyes ringed in black, “I told you, Sir isn’t necessary...Kuugo is fine or Sakamata.” He grumbled before turning on his heels, mouth open in a small smile, “Come then, there is a display of the realistic size of the blue whale. It is impressive.”

“I had no idea! It must be a pretty big place. I might end up being here all day after all!” You laughed and the hero nodded his head, ducking past some more children as quickly as he could.

“Yes. Come then, I will show you the exhibits the charity donated towards.” Kuugo lead you through a set of double doors before ducking through himself, dorsal fin catching on the top as he moved through.

The blue whale replica was huge. It was suspended from the ceiling, hanging immovable, great eyes peering at the tanks on the walls. You gazed upwards in awe of the model before Kuugo laughed, taking you over to a tank full of coral. Seahorses bobbed in the water calmly, wiggling between plants and kelp with careful precision.

“These were taken from a few places among the kelps near to Australia. Fishermen often scoop them out for kids aquariums. Hateful practice.” Gang Orca pushed a claw to the tank and the sea horses bobbed closer before swimming back to their food.

“I had no idea they did things like that.” You observed as he pointed to the name plates.

“They were all in a bucket on a little boat. The charity took them and rehomed them here. Many were injured with pieces of wire stuck around them.” He smiled at them, glad the little seahorses were back to full health and eating. They had been extremely ill the last time the charity workers had shown him around their working labs and rehabilitation centre. Kuugo was comforted by their recovery, as small as it may seem.

“What about those?” You took his clawed hand in your own, unfazed, tugging the pro-hero along to the next large tank. It was full of thriving corals and little feeding fish. The balance was there to feed the fish and help the coral grow better by keeping them pest free.

“Much the same. A little fishing boat was caught stealing the fish and corals. They are here to live out their days in safety.” He answered coolly as you turned the flash off your phone to take a picture of the little feeding fish.

“This is all so amazing, Kuugo!” You cheered next to him, “What about the next thing? Eels?” The tank was dark until you peered at the bottom. There in the rocks were eels of all sizes, writhing out of their holes in the rocks and crockery in the bottom of their tank. They sat with their mouths open, staring back at you as you watched them wiggle.

Gang Orca huffed a laugh behind you at your shuddering, rubbing at his head, water shining on his great hands as he shook his head side to side.

“Eels, yes. Other than them being rather boring, they live a long time, and enjoy doing that…gawking thing.” He leaned over, peering into the tank with a snort of his blowhole, clawed fingers pressed to the glass, “I don’t know a lot about them. Those deep-sea ones are practically immortal?” He huffed to himself, clicking at the back of his teeth as he gazed upwards at the blue whale model, “I will have to find out more information about those for next time.” He nodded to himself seriously.

You snickered at the pro-hero, “Don’t worry! I can just read the information placue.”

Kuugo blushed as he leaned over to squint at the information, “Ah, yes, I forgot about those.” He confessed quietly before leaning over your shoulder to read the information about the writhing eels as well, “Though I appear to have been far off the mark, hm?” He scratched at his dorsal fin before leaning back, giving you room to look into the tank again.

“Not too far off I’m sure, Kuugo. We all can’t know everything!”

He chuckled again and smiled with sharp teeth in his snout, “Right you are…Ah. How rude. I forgot to ask your name?”

You laughed at him, introducing yourself properly before listening to the killer whale softly say your name to himself.

“Come on then, Kuugo! You still have the whole aquarium to show me!” You cheering made him smile again, hands tucked in his pockets before you looped your arm through his own.

At some point during the walk around, the children stopped running from his intimidating aura, instead rushing to ask him questions about his fins and the clicks he could produce.

“Children, please. I am trying to tell this kind-“

“IS THAT YOUR DATE MISTER WHALE?!” A little girl asked before gasping and rushing away to her mother.

“No that is not….”

“Mister Orca is on a date! We better go!”

“ORCA-SAN HAS A DATE?!”

They were quick to rush from his legs, little hands finding their parents’ again before they began chattering about how kind the pro-hero was. He grumbled and leaned down to let the girl off his shoulders. She too giggled, gazing between the both of you before rushing back to her father.

“This is not a date.” He grunted, looking back at you with narrowed, red eyes.

“I know, Kuugo. But kids will be kids.” You linked your arms again and the pro-hero simply looked down before moving on, ushering you towards the exit with a huff and a wheeze.

“Excuse me for a moment.” He paused to uncap his water, dripping some into his hand before rubbing it over the thick skin of his head, slicking it with moisture before sighing through his mouth, blow hole closed tight.

“You know… Maybe the next one could be a date?” You teased as you scribbled your number on a piece of scrap paper. Kuugo felt his mouth drop open as you reached the exit, his clawed fingers taking the paper shakily.

“You would like to go out with me?” He was bewildered, “Even looking like…”

“Looking like a very handsome man?” You teased before taking his hand, “I would like to get to know you better and go out again yes!”

Kuugo’s sharp teeth snapped closed, “Then I will contact you…My schedule is busy but I will make time for this, I promise.”

“I expect nothing less from a pro-hero.” You teased, leaning up to kiss the man’s cheek, “Thank you for today. I would have been lost without my guide.”

“You are welcome.” He bowed his head, embarrassed as he watched you flounce away.

“MAMA THE WHALE IS GOING TO EAT ME!!”

He cringed and made a dash for his car and chauffeur. It seemed your lack of presence had turned the kids against him once again.

#gang orca #kuugo sakamata #gang orca x reader #sakamata kuugo #kuugo sakamata x reader #sakamata kuugo x reader #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #pro-hero #pro-heroes #gender neutral reader #gang orca x gender neutral reader #gang orca x gn reader #my writing #fanfic #fanfiction

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the-slasher-files · 3 years

Text

DIFFERENT PREDATORS - chapter 4

INCLUDES ANDREI KULOKOVA x XAVIERA LAH-MO

Loving writing for this couple so so much! This literally feels like a movie and it has over taken my life. In this chapter we get to look at feral Andrei in full form, which is so cool to write for. Just a warning it is very gory. Make sure to read part one, two and three.

Also please go read @horrorslashergirl oc Xaviera’s perspective on the chapter linked HERE

MASTERLIST

Soft breathes filled the room as both predators came down gently from their high. Andrei ran his tattooed palm along Xaviera’s naked shoulder she shuddered at his touch, her icy blue eyes were now a calm blue as she watched him light a cigarette with his free hand, blowing the smoke away from her in an unconsciously kind way. The wolf had taken what was his again from the world and it felt so right, better than any time before, and he was comfortable tonight, just laying together.

Looking back down at her his eyes were calm, and jaw ebbed of the tension and control, the wolf was down. She breathed slowly and strong, her soft skin gleamed with a fine sheen of sweat in the low light. She was the perfect prey.

“So… How was your first time?” He asked, taking another drag of his cigarette. “everything you wanted it to be?” His cockiness apparent in his question.

Xaviera took a moment with the question, maybe put off but his cocky ways like most but she hummed and replied with a flash of cheekiness “Mhmmm….Always pictured that my first time would be with a wolf. I guess I am more fond of feral beasts.”

Andrei gave a huff of a laughter appreciating the many sides of her personality, she continued to match him whole heartedly. “Well aren’t you lucky.” He waited for her to continue but was comfortable in the silent pause, but noticed something in her eyes, she was looking at his cigarette that lazily hung from his lips. Andrei took a drag again but blowing the smoke closer to her to see if she liked the taste, “Would you like one?”

Xaviera perked up at the question, and she took from his cheap Russian pack that he had offered up. Taking a slow drag she sighed contently, allowing the smoke to billow to wisp around her, framing her face. “Haven’t smoked since college. Sleepless nights full of studying.” Xaviera spoke looking up at Andrei through thick lashes and licking her lips.

“Y'know you look hot with a cigarette hanging out of those soft lips…” the wolf whispered, leaning in close to her face blowing smoke directly at her and capturing it in a kiss. He savored his favorite taste of tobacco and her sweetness with a hint of left over cum in the kiss the wolf moaned. Pulling away Andrei took the cigarette from her hand only to put his down in the ashtray and finish hers, a trait of the beasts playfulness. “You shouldn't smoke.. its bad for you” he smiled.

She smiled in return and rubbed her nose on his own as animals do in affection. "I know.... That's why I gave up smoking after college." she told Andrei, looking up at him from under her eyelashes.

Andrei was breaking slowly and surly like a house with a cracked foundation and she was seeping through the cracks. He nodded “you must have a good strong will then myshka.”

Putting down the cigarette in the ash tray one of his large hands rubbed her side while the other interlocked with her small hand, watching intensity as the wolf engulfed her hand with his. Bending the top of his fingers on hers, pulling away slightly and letting her trace his tattoo. Andrei kissed her forehead, closing his eyes trying desperately to be ok with the intimacy.

“When you lived most of your life among creatures that could kill you in a matter of seconds, you have to be always careful. Never underestimate someone by appearance. That’s what my father used to tell me…” she found herself telling him.

Andrei tightened his grip on the small woman, holding her close and telling her it was ok. He too had learned the same listen; His uncle was a paranoid mess, worried of anyone and putting fear in the hearts of Andrei and his sister at a young age, that absolutely anyone could rip them apart, mentally and physically. Then the fear only grew stronger as Andrei went to the army, undercover with some of Russia’s most dangerous people, no matter that their size. He learned to not be surprised with it anymore.

Humming and listening to the vulnerability, appreciating it. “A wise man” Andrei whispered into her white hair, letting her continue and taking in her sweet smell.

Xaviera bit her lip as she was compilating if she would continue. She was so cute when she bit her lip. Tugging at the stony heart people had created for him, but the way she curled into him, and the soft soothing voice made him feel at home. Xaviera saw through his beastly ways and saw the man underneath.

“Yes, he was. He always knew what to say and how to solve any problem…If it wasn’t for him…I wouldn’t have been here today.” she tells Andrei, curling her body against his much bigger one, seeking protection and comfort in a silent way he was more than happy to provide.

Andrei pulled in a deep breath, considering to tell her his family life as well, but he paused. The wolf biting his neck forcing him into submitting but he brushed it off. Who knew if he was even going to see her again. What did it matter.

“My.. uh, my dad was killed when I was young boy, just leaving me, my uncle, sister and..” his breath hitched slightly “my mother…. but um.. she was murdered when I was 12” Andrei shifted uncomfortably with his vulnerability, but tugged her close as a form of comfort, something he did with his sister growing up.

“She must have been a wonderful and beautiful woman... My mother... S-She was killed too... A-Along with my father.” she began to tell him with a shake in her voice, a breaking predator in his large hands. “My father was killed by poachers in a trip to Africa….Me and my mother run…B-But….She saved me….Giving her life. T-They killed her too…..She hid me into the hallow of a tree….A-And after they left her body…..T-The hyneas….T-They devoured her….They ripped her face apart.” Xaviera began to cry, walls tumbling down around her and allowed Andrei to pick up the pieces.

“I had to watch until she was a mess of flesh and bones.” she choked on a sob, her face buried into his chest. “I-I was so weak.” she breathed out.

Andrei’s heart was ripping and tearing as she shook, telling him the horrors she had been through. A deep part of his soul sympathizing with her; they had both seen the mangled, broken corpses of their mothers, with a beast looming over them. Unfortunately, Andrei was the beast in his story, but he wasn’t going to tell her now, that was for a different night.

Feeling the deep sobs and broken words spilling from her sweet lips he held her strong and instinctively, wanting to protect her. “ssssh… little one…” Andrei pulled back slightly meeting her red eyes, cupping her jaw and wiping the tears away. “It was never your fault… Beasts take and take from this world with greed, no mercy… and it is no one’s fault” Andrei’s soul was reassuring himself more so than Xaviera at this point, and he glanced at his tattoo, reading it, the words ‘NO GODS’ screamed in his head. He wanted to blame god for what he did, what had happened, what he took from him, but the true danger was people. Not the beasts. There were no gods to blame.

Her gaze met his in a soft reassurance. “That’s why I hate most humans so much….Humans call animals beasts but they are the ones.” she whispered, letting the last tears fall down her cheeks. “Animals aren’t greedy, vain… They do it to survive…. Humans are conducted by their avarice.” she spoke, taking one of his big hands in both her tiny ones, bringing his hand to her lips, kissing his knuckles, then her eyes drifted to the big scars on her thigh.

Fuck, she was killing him. Speaking his brutal but beautiful language. Her gentle affection was something new for him, something no one had ever shown the wolf, but he liked it, he could learn this gentle nature from her.

“I got this one from a mother Grizzly. Me and my dad encountered the cubs first and because I was young and foolish… She attacked me….. My dad saved me, but the Grizzly left a souvenir.” she spoke, looking from the claw marks to Andrei. “I learned not to be afraid of the wild animals… But also respect them. Respect what can kill you.” Nuzzling into him like a little cat.

Andrei’s eyes widened at the thought of a grizzly coming after her, she was so small but so tough. Xaviera held the quiet power of beasts within her but covered it in a gentle grace, something he was less than skilled at.

He took his free large hand and brought it down to her thigh tracing the scar like it was art, Xaviera shivered at his touch. Bringing his lips to her forehead he spoke “Well thank you for respecting me” he laughed, trying to lighten the deep moment.

She snorted and rolled her blue eyes at his smug joke, "Yes, yes. I respect you, all high and mighty Alpha Wolf." She cheekily told him, one of her fingers scratching under his chin playfully, like one would do to a dog, he just shook his head at the playful endearing energy she had.

"Just don't step on my tail or I am gonna bite your precious jewels off." she whispered against his lips, her blue eyes glinting. Andrei’s eyes went sharp again at her words, ready to pounce at her again. He took her lips in a deep kiss, grinning at the end and pulling away, sexual thoughts filling his head with the mention of her mouth being that close to his manhood.

“Go ahead and try it precious kitten” Andrei rolled Xaviera on top of him now, placing his hands on her hips for a moment until bring them to the sides of her neck, the wolf inside wanted to turn the action deadly but he inhaled and brought her down into a kiss again.

She kissed him back as he did, her small hands moving to touch his bigger ones that were rested on her neck. “I love it when you touch my neck.” Xaviera whispered into the kiss, her thumbs stroking his knuckles.

The wolf wanted to take her over and over again by the way she would speak to him, letting a fire and holding it strong within him, but he needed to relax. She was so small, so tempting, bones so easy to break under his hands.

His jaw tensed as his fingers went tighter around her throat, not enough to choke for Andrei controlled himself. “Be careful with those sweet words baby girl” he whispered back feeling her breath hitch slightly under his fingers.

"You know..... You are the only one who has ever touched my neck and survived." she whispered, looking down at him, cheeks dusted by a furious blush from their position.

His brow raised and the signature smirk came back to his face “there is still time darling” he silently laughed appreciating her wild side. Swiftly and expertly Andrei rolled her again, pinning her beneath the beast of a man. Moving close to her face, cigarette stained breath ghosting over her Andrei kissed her again leaving her breathless once one as he pulled away “Well thank you for letting me live… for now” he smirked and got up from bed going downstairs.

Grabbing the 2 mugs of hot tea Andrei surveyed the cabin one last time for potential threats, an instinct he could never lose. Making it into the bedroom Xaviera had her head buried in the pillow which made him confused, the soft side of him tugging to know what was wrong and the wolf breathing down his neck to strike while she was vulnerable.

“Everything alright?” Andrei asked putting her mug down and getting into bed with his own mug, running his hand down her shoulder.

"Yes... E-Everything is alright... Just... Thinking." she replied, avoiding his gaze at the end and nibbling on her lower lip, a blaze of blush creeping up her features.

Andrei saw that blush again, a sight he could get used to seeing. Then that lower lip bit, ugh, she was breaking him. But he just nodded and sipped his tea watching the snow fall out the windows, his soul still wanting to run free but his heart was being caged by the beautiful woman in bed with him. Another fight to be had within him.

“Thinking… about me?” Smirked turning towards her “Don’t be sly… I’m beginning to know that beautiful blush well baby girl.” he teased with the prey as she choked on the words he spoke. He was under her skin and he reeled in it.

"I-Its not like that! I mean... You were amazing and I loved every second of it... Its just.... I never shared...a moment like this." she spoke, looking down at the cup of tea in her lap.

He smiled at her innocent nature. “I’m just teasing myshka, it was a joke…” he hooked two large fingers under her chin making her look up at him. “But I was right.” He huffed only for her to glare at him, the blush still present.

“Still a knucklehead.... Don't make me throw your ass in the snow." she told him, taking a sip of her tea to hide her smile. Setting his tea down on the nightstand, the fingers under Xaviera’s chin moved along her jaw sweetly.

“And still a fierce kitten” Andrei’s fingers laced within her white hair and kissed her again. Xaviera closed her eyes as he kissed her, her tongue running along his bottom lip only to shyly start sucking on it, her eyes opened, looking into his own, challenging him slightly.

Andrei’s eyes went sharp again, “well you learn fast.” He grinned licking his canines, the hand within her hair tightened in a fist, he wasn’t gonna be that easy with her anymore. Crashing his lips against hers again roughly his tongue explored her mouth and fought with her tongue, savoring the taste. Without even looking Andrei’s one hand moved down her arm, taking the tea and reaching over her to put it on her nightstand which in turn was pinning her beneath him again. Biting her lip hard enough to draw a little blood he pulled back, knowing what the copper taste would do to him, he moved the kisses along her jaw and to Xaviera’s so sensitive neck.

"T-That's not fair... Y-You know my sensitive spots... A-And I don't know yours." the prey breathed out in a shuttering voice.

He grins against her, brushes the sharp teeth of the wolf along the delicate bruised skin he created. “A predator never just tells you their weak spot..” he pulled away looking her deep into her glimmering eyes “you of all people should know that, darling”

"I-I...." the prey stammered, blushing hot at his words.

Andrei stopped at her stammering words, she was embarrassed and shy beneath the wolf. He moved a large hand to stroke through her white locks and he rested his forehead on hers like animals show affection. “Ssshh.. little mouse… I will not hurt you.” The wolf couldn’t promise that, he knew that, but he never wanted to. She was different, she was an animal just like him.

“I-It’s alright… You know… When I was in Africa I watched as Leopards mate. The males always bite the nape of the females. Not to kill her, but to assert dominance. I suppose that goes for humans too?” she told him in a quiet voice, biting on her lower lip.

His gentle grin appeared again, she understood him even with all his teeth, he hummed at her words “You are mine.” Andrei placed his hand on the side of her neck and deeply kissed her, grinding himself against her, but quickly rolled off and pulled her close to him again. A ever fought battle of animalistic urges and a gentle side.

Xaviera nuzzled her face into his chest, and humming. "All yours, Wolfy. All yours.... Considering half my neck is blue and purple." she said with a smile.

Andrei huffed a small laugh, it was an instinct for him, a carnal desire to go for the neck and it always had been. Her words lit him up, someone accepted it for once that they were his, even if it was just until the snow stopped. Looking down at her Xaviera was beaming with pride.

“What a cute little thing” He kissed her forehead and started to absent mindedly run one of his hands along the giant scar on his chest. Her eyes drifted to the scar his sister gave him but she never pressured him and that he was grateful for.

"Little with enough venom to kill 100 Men." she said with a devilish glint in her eyes, her lips pressed against his big scar.

He smiled at the power she had in those words, she could kill poachers with her gun and arrows but she could also kill a man’s heart, even if it was locked away deep inside. Andrei’s jaw tensed in the gentle affectionate nature she presented him with, no one had kissed his scars in fear of what he might do them, but she didn’t have fear of him. He just looked down at her beautiful blue eyes through her thick lashes.

“It is time for sleep myshka” he leaned down brushing his lips against hers “.. unless you want to go again?” He grinned licking his canines.

“As much as I would love to get frisky with the big bad wolf…. I have to rest. The blizzard will stop tomorrow morning and I will have to go…hunting.” She whispered, her hand brushing against his chest up and down.

Xaviera spoke sweetly but truthfully and Andrei pulled away resting his head on the pillow, his mind finally felt at ease here in the tangled sheets but the way she was rubbing his chest was starting a fire he might not be able to control again, so the wolf roughly grabbed her wrist and spoke “you might want to stop doing that then.. or else I’m not taking your excuses.” He let go of her, controlling himself again and running a large hand down her grizzly scars and settling there.

"Got it, knucklehead." she huffed, rolling her eyes. Respecting his inner demons and roughness. She pressed a kiss under his chin. “Good night, Wolfy.” she whispered, leaning her head against his chest.

Grinning at the new nickname he closed his eyes, this was one night the trauma and memories wouldn’t come, he was safe in his own head tonight and he could finally relax. Tension ebbed from his muscles and jaw feeling himself melt into the bed and into the body next to him. “Goodnight kitten”

Even if it was just for the night, he felt at home, a relaxation he had never known.

-----------------------------------------

The winter morning sun cascaded through the old glass of the cottage, his icy blues eyes opened softly and his hand stretched out, only feeling coldness surrounding him. Andrei was alone. Then there was a the closing of the door to confirm his suspicion. Her free spirit eluded him again.

“Motherfucker-” He cursed rushing downstairs and looking out the window, she was loaded up and ready to kill. A surge of protection came over him, and unfamiliar feeling in his heart he just couldn’t place other than he needed her. She didn’t know what else these poachers were involved in like he did, one of them was in the Ukrainian special forces, one similar to Andrei but lower class.

Getting dressed in his winter camo, throwing on his military vest loaded with ammo, knives, first aid and basically anything useful to get himself out of a jam. Placing his rifle over his shoulder and lacing up his combat boots, he finally placed on his mask with a deep growl. The one last thing that made him the beast.

Stepping out into the cold winter he followed Xaviera’s tracks, leading up the mountain and twining through the forest. The wolf stalked for about two hours and that’s when he heard it a large truck approaching through the clearing just beyond the forest. He was close.

Running through the trees silently he waited, waited for her calling, the sniper rifle shots. Crouching low within the frost covered brush something he didn’t expected happened, the tires of the large truck exploded from a spike strip hidden in the snow. The little leopard knew some tricks, the wolf grinned from behind the mask.

The first man stepped out of the truck and there was a sudden crack. The sniper rifle. “Xaviera” His trained ears perked as he listened to the sound and the vibrations, she was up on the ridge, hidden almost perfectly among the terrain, white hair flowing perfectly into the snow.

His icy blue eyes fell on the man who was bleeding lifelessly in the snow, the hot crimson melting the ice around him. The wolf’s eyes dilated and he growled with the second crack on the gun. His skin was crawling eagerly, his muscles stiffened and his mouth watered. Andrei tried to shake it off but the desire burned too hot.

Andrei... Breathe... If you go out there you will get her killed... Breathe... Wait..

So the wolf waited and watched from the trees, blue eyes sharp on the woman coming down the ridge closing in on the truck. He breathed. He contemplated showing himself, but her job wasn’t done yet and he could ruin it all. Xaviera broke the lock of the truck and opened the heavy doors with a large metal squeak falling into the forest.

There was her prize, a beautiful large snow leopard leaped out of the truck majestically, shaking its fur and running off just to the right of the wolf, they shared a quick glance at each other. It was a look of respect. Two different predators, one now free while the other was protecting, heart still chained to the woman by the truck.

Suddenly the wolf felt the hair on his neck stand and instinctively his muscles tensed, whipping his head to watch Xaviera. Something wasn’t right. A man appeared behind her. The wolfs eyes were dark, and sharp as the man grabbed her. His prey was slammed against the truck forcefully and she screamed in pain, that was a sound only the wolf wanted to make her make. No one else. She was his.

The wolf stood tall, imposing and threatening. Stalking through the bushes he heard the man talking to her but it was muffled by the blood rushing and the heart that pounded strongly within the wolf. A harsh breath left her sweet mouth as the man kicked her in the ribs. His jaw tensed, muscles flexed and contorted. Each footstep his anger grew and the snow seemed to melt under his fiery path.

This was the man from the special unit force Andrei knew well. Another shriek of pain cut through his ears as the man harshly pressed a boot on her ankle. His prey with downed and the wolf was going to take what was his. The sight of blood in the snow and dripping down his prey fueled the fire beneath the skin. He couldn't hold back the wolf any longer from its true power. It was over. Andrei was gone.

"... I know what you might be useful for" The man was on top of her now, speaking confidently, the prey cried as his disgusting hands ran along her thighs. Along his prey. She reared her head back looking to scream but there was no need, the wolf knew what to do. She was his.

The wolf lunged. Full power of broad shoulders and hard muscles. Teeth bared and claws out he tackled him off her. The man got to his feet but the wolf had power and speed, thrusting a hard fist right into his nose with a crack. The blood poured but it wasn't enough. He stepped onto his territory. Pulling the knife from his holster as the man stumbled back, the wolf stabbed into the flesh with a squelch, and twisted knife sadistically in the thigh wanting to hear the scream of pain. His desire still burned as the man dropped into the snow and the Russian pulled out the blade. He admired the oozing and flowing of the blood.

He wasn't done. He needed want was his. Towering above the man he kneeled on him, pressing his knee onto the delicate ribcage that seemed to crack with ease. The noise made goosebumps form along his skin as his large rough hands pressed around the man's throat. Squeezing and waiting.

Wait.... Wait for it.... Be grateful for the hunt... Wait for the end... It will come... It always does...

The man beneath him thrashed and writhed. Gasping and clawing. Managing to push the wolfs mask down only to have him mimic the teeth pattern. A full snarl infusing fear into the man's heart. The wolf could see it in his eyes. The precious tender fear, he was a master of. He was close. So close to the end as the prey stopped his attempt at life and accepted his death in between the jaws of the wolf. The last look was ecstasy. A sweet and yet bitter taste on his tongue as the soul departed beneath the wolf. He was gone. He took what was his in the snow.

As the pluse under his claws went flat, the attention was put on his other prey. His different type of prey. Dark eyes met her wide icy blues. Andrei was screaming not to dare to touch her but the wolf wanted more. Needed more. The prey swallowed down roughly, breathing slowly as the wolf was hunched and teeth were displayed. She didn't move. A smart one. He wanted to devour her fear but he pulled away and placed his attention back the corpse beneath him.

He wasn't done.

He came into his world and touched what was his. Spilled the blood that was his. He wanted more.

Standing, the wolf towered, large and strong he dragged the body away. Taking his kill how and where he wanted, and stalked into the snowy forest. His rage carrying the wolf where it pleased.

Seeing a strong, sharp broken branch on a pine tree, it seemed to suit the wolfs fancy. Lifting the man with ease and impaling him on the branch in a show of pure raw strength. In an animalistic urge he needed to see everything, hear everything and smell everything. The wolf stripped the prey as he hung. Checking for weapons and ammo that would please him.

The hot blood still oozing from his thigh, the desire ached for more. The wolf grabbed his blade again from his vest and in a swift motion he stabbed the prey in his chest, right in the middle and pulled down strongly to his navel. The hot crimson spraying on the wolf, he tasted it, savoring it sickly as he took the knife out. Intestines fell and melted the snow at his feet. The white ice turned a deep scarlet as the night fell. The metallic smell assaulted the wolfs senses, feeding every desire perfectly. He was grateful for this hunt tonight. He could do as he pleased.

With 2 hands the wolf tore the preys torso open, the sound of squelching entrails and flesh ripped through the forest, signaling the ravens to move in around him. With a thick hand the wolf reached inside the lifeless body, reaching the spine slowly and twisting, ripping it out as the body swayed. The wolf had taken what he wanted. He took rapaciously what he thought desvered with out mercy. Protecting what was his.

Breathe... Be grateful for this hunt.... you took what you wanted.... Breathe... The world made you this way... Breathe..

A sick snarl left his lips graciously as he looked at what he did. Turning to walk away the wolf nipped at his neck one last time and he turned, whipping his knife out and brutally decapitated the prey. The body mangled and wicked left in the snow for the scavengers to eat. He had taken what was his.

The blood was thick on his coat as he marched along the snow path, marching to the cottage, a siren song calling him back, her name in his head over and over again. The wolfs eyes sharp and dangerous as he set his sets on the cottage, warm light looming in the dark cold forest. The blood steamed and billowed around him. The wolf had a hunger. Only one could fill. The trail of scarlet dripped from his canines and claws, melting in the footsteps behind him.

The wolfs weight creaked along the front steps and he slammed the door open. There she was. He's final feast for the night.

"Andrei?" The prey asked, looking like a deer caught in the headlights, she stood there as he licked the blood from his canines.

She was wearing nothing but his shirt. His smell imprinting on that beautiful flesh. The wolf growled deep and low, seeing her bruises. They weren't his bruises, not his marks. He needed her. To make her his again. A carnal desire burned in his core. This would be a different hunt. A different end.

#my writing #NOW THIS IS BRUTAL ANDREI.. WOLF ANDREI #horror #slasher #slashers #oc #ocs #Andrei Kulokova #Xaviera Lah-Mo #Andrei x Xaviera

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vanaera · 4 years

Text

𝐌𝐲 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 | 𝟎𝟐 | 𝐣𝐣𝐤

Synopsis: A future technology allows cops to jump in the past and future to investigate crimes that have happened and prepare for those that are about to happen. A simple hit-and-run turns into something more when Captain Jeon Jungkook finds himself as the victim of a culprit who cannot be identified by the system. Especially when the culprit seems to be the same person behind the new case that’s threatening the order in the justice organization. All goes haywire when Jungkook gets involved with Y/N L/N, the clairvoyant sketch artist who may be his only help to solve the case.

Characters: Jungkook x Female Reader

Genre/AU: Sci-fi, romance, angst, mystery, action (cop!JK x artist!you), based on the movie Minority Report

Wordcount: 8.2k

Warnings: Dark themes and implied smut (in future chapters); heavy descriptions of a hit-and-run; mentions of blood from injuries (PG-16 Rating)

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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭

The skies were gray and the streets were damp and yet the air remains humid. The scorching heat on the pavement permeates the soles of his leather combat boots. It’s the familiar stench of Down Hill. Jungkook could already smell it when he’s just reaching the boundary between it and Middle Town.

Jungkook looks down at the scrap of paper that’s been in his pocket since the day started. Namjoon had to write the address of this Y/N L/N, lest DOJ traces his electronic trail and take him in for unnecessary questioning. Jungkook himself had to make up some petty excuse of a “hurting arm” to file a day-off. He just hopes all of this spent effort will worth him something.

Jungkook nears the 7-Eleven sitting in the fork of the streets. Namjoon wrote Y/N’s studio is cramped among the apartments around this area. He said she never really penned down a home to accommodate covert meet-ups like this. All she has is her studio.

In “Mini Palais, 23-B,” Jungkook mutters again, huffing in front of a door with cracking cadet blue paint. He finds the unit after climbing up a series of stairs at the end of the alleyway jammed between the decaying 7-Eleven and a battered motor shop. Jungkook raises his hand to knock when the door bursts open.

In front of him is a girl. Namjoon already said so and although Jungkook thinks it’s accurate enough for the girl who’s looking up at him through chopped raven bangs, it also wasn’t really enough to describe her. Because the girl in front of him was an aberrant mix of a girl and a woman. Jungkook thinks she’s around her early thirties if he were to consider Namjoon’s history of working with her for about ten years in FJO. There are faint lines around her eyes to support that. However, her relatively small height, plump cheeks, and the natural rosy hue of her lips beg to decrease ten years off that supposed age. With her youthful face, messy half-bun, and the white, floral off-shoulder dress flowing past her knees, no one will argue with Jungkook if he were to say she’s just 22.

“Who are you?”

“Oh, um,” Jungkook flashes his badge, “I’m Jungkook Jeon, a captain in the Federal Justice Organization. Precrime, Murder sector. I’m here to um, avail your…services for a case.”

The girl cocks her head to the side and gives him a once over. “I’m sorry, I don’t do services for the FJO anymore.” She moves to close the door but Jungkook was quick to block a foot between it and the wall.

“I’m a contact of Namjoon’s!” Jungkook exclaims, “He’s Lieutenant Seokjin Kim’s close subordinate.” This is a card he didn’t want to use but it looks like he has no other choice left. Jungkook clears his throat. “Actually, I’m a very close contact of Namjoon. We’re best friends. I even live with him. He’s the one who told me to, um, consult you for the case I’m handling.”

The girl opens the door an inch. Jungkook hands a folded paper to her. She spreads it open and scans through the letter. Jungkook doesn’t know what it actually says. Namjoon just thrust it into his hands on his way out and told him not to open it. It must be an effective personal request because by the time the girl reaches the end, she’s pushing her door wide open, tilting her head to the side, beckoning him to come inside. However, her face remains grim.

“I’m Y/N L/N. This is my studio. I know you already know I prefer to transact business here even for ones intended to be covert. So first off, I want to say I’m sorry you have to travel to such a place like this.”

Jungkook shakes his head, “Oh no, it’s definitely alright—”

“I kinda think it’s not when you grew up in a comfortable life. You must be quite shaken up.”

Jungkook freezes. Y/N looks at him, “Oh, I didn’t look into you or something. It’s just a hypothetical guess, seeing your,” she motions to his silver watch. “That’s expensive. No one from here will be able to afford it anytime soon.”

Jungkook’s shoulders turn lax. Y/N points to a chair next to a table in the corner. “Just wait there. I’m about to finish this piece in just a sec. Then I’m all yours.”

Jungkook nods and makes himself comfortable on the seat. Unlike its appearance on the outside, Y/N’s unit is not much of a concrete wreck. It still looks a bit rough. The ceiling has cracks all over it. A small white bulb precariously hangs on its center. It looks too weak to illuminate the whole room when the night comes. Jungkook thinks it’s a good thing that the unit has huge gaping rectangular windows to let in the natural light. The floor is cemented in gray but the work on it is unimpressive as there are numerous uneven layers, rough patches, and dents that could only be ascribed to poor mason work. The white wallpaper is torn around, some even wet at the edges—probably due to a leak during rains.

However, the flowers painted on them is vibrant enough to uplift the dreary unit. Paintings are littered around. Many are big, a few are small. Some were seated on easels, several are just laying around on the floor. Newspapers are strewn across the majority of the floor. Buckets and tin cans of paints line up the corners like a prayer circle.

All the colors present in the room can only be attributed to the paint that’s strewn across the newspapers, the paintings, and the 6’ tall canvas of an owl in flight Y/N is currently working on. The girl is standing on a small foldable ladder, painting the feathers of the bird at the top of the canvas. When the wind blows her hair to the side, Jungkook finds a mirage of colors on the scarlet spider lilies inked on her spine.

After about two minutes, Y/N steps down and dumps her brush into a rusted bucket filled with water. She turns to the man on the chair and makes her way to the stool opposite his. She fixes down her dress and finally looks at Jungkook. “So, what case do you have for me?”

“This,” Jungkook slides a couple of pictures toward her. They are the screen captures from the CCTV records that caught the black Jaguar. “There’s an unknown driver who’s doing an illegal time jump patterned to Precrime’s traveling agents. We tried to run in the license plate but it just turned to be ‘invalid.’ All we know is that the suspect is male, slim, and tall. He’s interested in the Winston Assassination, and has probably inside ties in FJO since he easily entered the Special Operations Building just ten days ago.”

“None of the traveling agents has seen this man before? Precrime or Forecrime?”

Jungkook shakes his head.

Y/N licks a finger and flips to the next picture, “What about the car?”

“None of the agents has seen a suspicious sedan sports Jaguar before. It’s the first time we have someone presumably well-to-do threatening the justice system.”

Y/N nods. Jungkook inserts his hand into his pocket and retrieves a black USB. He hands it to the girl. “Here’s more of the screenshots from the CCTVs, taken in each second. I can’t give you the CCTVs because of the protocol. I can only give you these. Just imagine they’re moving,” Jungkook purses his lips as he looks at the girl. “I want you to identify this man for me.”

Y/N tucks the USB into her dress’ pocket. She slides the pictures back to Jungkook. “This seems to be a heavy identification check then. Not that I couldn’t handle, of course. However, Namjoon must have told you that my rates are quite high—”

“Money is not a problem.”

Y/N cocks a brow, “So you did grow up a comfortable life.”

Jungkook clenches his jaw.

Y/N chuckles, “Okay, I’m not gonna dwell on it more. It’s settled then. Send your weekly payment to this account,” Y/N tears a piece from the rolls of paper by her side, scribbles on it, and hands it to him. “Every Friday, 10 AM sharp.” Jungkook looks at the paper before tucking it in the breast pocket of his leather jacket.

Y/N crosses her arms, “We can start next week after you give me the downpayment.”

Jungkook zips open a duffel bag and places a stack of bills on the table.

“Eager, aren’t we?” Y/N smiles, “I like that.” She flips through the bills before deciding they’re legitimate and dumping it into a box by her feet.

Y/N turns to him. “Now, where are we? Oh—you must already know, but what I really do here is foreseeing the future for whatever cause you have. It’s not just trivial fortune-telling but a purposive one. I can accurately give you whatever you want to know.”

Jungkook nods. Y/N’s leans forward on the table. “I’ll be honest with you. I don’t really have terms and conditions with my clients. Or any contract to ensure them their protection, as what I do tend to…increase risks. Emotional security and mental stability on your part. Those two and physical toll on mine. It will be absurd to provide any contract as what I am doing is anything but guaranteeing protection. I can’t also be fully transparent about the mechanisms behind the things I will do for you. Otherwise, my gift won’t work. What I can only assure is I’ll never proceed on any memories you have set boundaries on. Should you decide to stop this negotiation anywhere in the future, I will automatically concede and keep the confidentiality of whatever that may happen. As long as on your part, you won’t consider asking for a refund.”

“I understand.”

“Good,” Y/N smiles, “Now first things first. Tell me any hurting point you have.”

Jungkook goes stiff. “Is this actually necessary?”

Y/N nods. “I know this is a tough question, but we’re talking about memories here.”

“I know but I can’t just divulge them to a stranger—"

“I think you don’t get what I’m saying.” Y/N lets out a humorless chuckle. “Look, Jungkook, when I attempt to see the future concerning this elusive driver you’re after, it is inevitable for the past to re-appear. There is no future without any past. Your past memories can clog up with the ones involved in the case because you are in the case. You’re heading it. Good or bad, memories will come up. That’s their thing. They spring up at the most inconvenient times. No matter how old they already are. No matter how long you must have already moved on from them. Memories demand to be remembered and you cannot just disregard them even if you will it to because it never gave anyone a choice to do otherwise. So, if you don’t set the boundaries on the memories you don’t want me to cross, I’ll just see everything in their utter unadulterated form.” Y/N leans forward, “And I can assure you, you don’t want that to happen.”

Jungkook prods his cheek with his tongue. “Fine. I’ll give you my hurting point and that’s that. No further questions.”

“Okay.”

Jungkook digs in his back pocket for his wallet and flips it open. There’s a tattered white edge of a picture peeking through the flaps. It’s been years since he pulled it out. Its replica, now tucked in his shelf, has prevented him from doing so for so many years. Jungkook closes his eyes and slides it toward the girl. “This boy. Anything that concerns him, I don’t want you to cross or even bring up. Understand?”

“Okay.” Y/N hands back the photo to him. “We go to the second step then. You must already have your assumed suspects. Tell me their names.”

Jungkook draws back. “I can’t tell you that, that’s highly classified information. FJO’s protocol doesn’t allow it and—”

“Do you seeking my help part of the protocol?”

Jungkook looks down, “No.”

“Right. So, tell me their names. I need to know them to make a memory map.”

Jungkook’s brows meet “A what?”

“A memory map,” Y/N repeats, “It’s something I make to identify points of certain memories in time. It guides me to the memories I need to tread to reach what I’m really looking for. It’s like a demo version of Forecrime’s box trainings but except of a machine, I’m doing it manually by hand. For all we know, the real suspect must be close to these suspects.”

Jungkook’s brow quirks up.

Y/N leans forward, “So, tell me their names?”

Jungkook turns his face away from her, looking at his clasped hands. “Well, I…only have one.”

“And that is?”

“Leigh Anderson. Winston’s assassin. FJO has been after him for 17 years. He also has a number of sponsors who’s been sending him missions with promises of large sums of money. But most of all, he’s rumored to have access to time jumping technologies. Illegal of course. FJO is the only one licensed to be utilizing them.”

“That’s good,” Y/N quips. “Do you have any pictures of him?”

Jungkook turns to his duffel bag and retrieves a picture. It’s Anderson in the scene of Winston’s murder that FJO has pinned to their system. The one in the crime record Jungkook produced. He hands it to Y/N. “Is this enough?”

“More than enough,” Y/N smiles. She stands up and walks to one of her cupboards, reaching for a ceramic bowl. She pours some tap water in it and turns back to the table, a short, white candle in hand. She places the candle on the water, letting it float. She retrieves a lighter from her dress pocket and lights up the wick of the candle.

Y/N puts her palms open on the table. “Let’s start now. Do you have your clicker with you?”

Jungkook’s brows meet. “What?”

“Your time jumper,” Y/N grits.

Jungkook looks at her incredulously. “I don’t see any reason why would you need it—”

“We’re going to the past to have a tangible memory to start on my memory map.” Before Jungkook could tear himself away from the table, Y/N launches forward and snatches the small, black device hanging on the man’s belt loop. Jungkook shoots an arm out and grabs onto it.

But it’s too late. Y/N’s already pushed the button.

The air is knocked out of Jungkook’s windpipe. A numbing pain starts to settle on his chest, a migraine forming on his temple. His limbs also feel stone-heavy. Precrime traveling has always been like this and yet Jungkook can never get used to it. However, he’s not left wondering about it for long because in the next second, Jungkook’s standing in front of a dark road. Tall shrubs and trees shadowing the moon, CCTVs mounted on the lamp posts lining the concrete. It’s Somerset Road.

Jungkook’s eyes widen. Why is he here? He tries to move but his limbs are stuck by his side, unmoving as he grunts. He tries to take a step back but the effort is futile when his feet are seemingly glued onto the dark asphalt. Jungkook sighs and turns to the road in front of him again. And this time around, Jungkook’s mouth falls ajar.

Y/N is standing idly at the other side of the road, opposite of him.

“H-how did you travel here—”

A car zooms past. Jungkook turns his head to the sound. The air is punched out from his esophagus. It’s his car—the silver-gray Ford. And there at the other end of the road emerges a black sedan sports Jaguar. The Jaguar speeds on and drives into the Ford, swerving it around, tires screeching loud on the pavement. It topples down, rolling around, then round, and round. Three times, Jungkook counted. Just like the CCTV Hoseok retrieved. The Ford stops, upside down. The black Jaguar zips past it. Like the CCTVs have shown, the Jaguar reaches the other end of the street and disappears. A second passes. The body of the driver in the car drops onto the cold pavement. It lolls his head to his side, bloodied face turned towards the man standing on the pavement.

Jungkook’s facing right into his past. He isn’t reliving the memory. He is living it. There’s no anger but pain. Fresh, unadulterated pain that cannot be accounted to the lacerations on his injured arm.

The wind howls. Jungkook remains frozen in his position. Then suddenly, everything stops—the distant honking of the cars, the wind, the clatter of the crushed car pieces falling onto the ground. What the fuck is happening? Jungkook turns around, only to come face to face with the girl.

Y/N’s arm shoots forward and fists the collar of his leather jacket, pulling him down to her level. “You didn’t say this business is personal!”

“It’s not a big deal,” Jungkook spits, tearing her hand off him.

“It is, Jungkook! You said you were involved. I didn’t think it was this level of involved!”

“It doesn’t change any fact that I’m still going to be involved either way! I’m still going to head this case because it’s tied with Winston. What difference does it make if I am the victim of this fucking man?!”

“A lot!” Y/N screams. Jungkook stops. Y/N sighs, “It does a lot of difference, Jungkook. We’re already risking a lot in this until it turns out you’re a focal point in this case! You’re a fucking victim of this culprit! A conflict of interest is highly possible. You will be unable disassociate yourself from this and objectively investigate this case—”

“I don’t need you telling me what I should do or not, Y/N.” Jungkook steps forward to the girl. “I know what I’m doing. And I know it when I say I can investigate this following all the legal protocols.”

Y/N tilts her head. “How can you say that when you’ve just been face-to-face with your past self?”

Before Jungkook can say anything, Y/N closes her eyes and clicks her finger. In just one second, everything around Jungkook falls beneath his feet—the trees, Somerset Road, his bloodied self. It rips themselves off from his senses until all he could see again is the dilapidated atelier, the barren ceilings, and, Y/N.

Jungkook hunches over, coughing as air fills his lungs again. “H-how could you do that?”

Y/N blows off the candle. “My gift.” She glances at the man. “The accident is taking a serious toll on you. I have to take us out of the time jump.”

Jungkook sits back and glowers at her. “N-no, what I’m asking about is—how could you snatch my clicker and make a jump without any remorse? You do know that’s illegal!”

“I know. ‘FJO’s traveling agents and officials are the only ones allowed by the law to engage in time jumping activities’ yaddah yaddah bullshit.” Y/N leans on the table, face hovering the Captain’s. “But involving a then-law practitioner, much more an outsider like me, into your case is also illegal. I have my gift, yes. But I can only see the future and I won’t be able to see it accurately if I don’t have some sense of the past. Plus, I have no other pragmatic choice to start this case on the right foot. I already saw the future of our negotiation before you sat down on that stool. There’s nothing else I could say other than it didn’t end favorably for any of us.” Y/N turns back to the table she’s clearing, “Not that it’s any different now. Especially when I just learned the case you’ve showed me is more personal than you presented it to be.”

Jungkook purses his lips. He stands up, gathers his things, and wordlessly makes his way out of the atelier. He didn’t bid the girl any farewell.

“Looks like you haven’t been sleeping.”

Jungkook looks up at his friend before looking down at his crossed arms, turning his attention back to his mug of coffee.

Namjoon takes a seat cross Jungkook. “Did something happen?” He twirls the tea bag around his own mug, “Care to tell why you’ve been sporting those dark eye bags since two days ago?”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing when the doctor precisely told you to have a healthy lifestyle to help your wound heal faster.”

Jungkook looks at Namjoon.

Namjoon points to his bandaged arm, “It indeed doesn’t look it’s healing fast like it’s supposed to.”

Jungkook sighs. “Fine, you caught me.” He purses his lips then looks at his friend, “I’ve been wondering. You know our clickers are designed to identify the agent it was assigned to before it could work. But, is it…possible for clickers to work on someone that doesn’t belong to FJO as long as someone from FJO is present?”

Namjoon keeps his gaze on him. A look of surprise seems to wash over his face. But it soon gets replaced by a look of recognition. Namjoon places the tea bag onto the saucer on his left. “I see you already met Y/N.”

“Y-you knew that about her?”

“I do,” Namjoon mutters over his cup of tea. “I learned it when the Bureau looked into the Linton Park serial murders. Seokjin’s team, including me, followed the memory map she made for us—a trail of memories that specifically belongs to anything related to the murders. But then, we hit a dead-end for the supposed next victim. Can’t identify her. We only had images of flashing movement—blood splattering in a barn, people running on a green field. There are just cops and a woman.”

Namjoon places down his cup, “And so, Y/N told me she needed me to help her make a time jump in the past. I pressed on the clicker and,” Namjoon shrugs, “Y/N successfully made the jump. And also successfully return with the info of the victim—a girl working on a farm. Y/N tied it to the flashing images of the field and deduced the running was not about us chasing a murderer’s accomplice. But us running after a victim before Linton could. It was hard to tell at first why the victim is running away from us. Until we learned through Y/N she was an illegal immigrant.”

Namjoon pulls his lips into a tight smile. “I think it’s an additional gift. But at the same time, it’s also a setback. A rightful one at that. Y/N’s inability to time jump in the past unless with a clicker a meter radius within her balances the power of her future-seeing gift. She still needs to rely on the system even if her gift for the future is, hypothetically, unbound from any constraints.” Namjoon takes a sip of his tea. “How ‘bout you? How did you learn this…extra ability of hers?”

“She snatched my clicker from me,” Jungkook leans back in his seat. “She said she needed a ‘tangible memory’ to start on her memory map. She ended up thrusting us back into the time of my car accident.”

Namjoon freezes. “Excuse me? Did you say ‘us’?”

Jungkook’s forehead furrows, “Yeah. We did the jump together, that’s why I’m asking you about this thing with the clickers.”

“Jungkook, she never did that before.”

Jungkook’s brows shoot up. “What?”

Namjoon scratches his nape, face scrunched up. “When she asked me to let her jump through my clicker, she didn’t take me along with the jump. It’s only her. Like it should always be as one clicker is only for one user. It’s always been like this in all the situations she asked me for a time jump in the past.” Namjoon looks at him, “I don’t know why you got in the same loop as her.”

The night was quiet but devoid of peace. Like an ugly pause in a running film that’s just about to unwind the questions they laid at the start. Even after intaking his blue pills, Jungkook finds it difficult to close his eyes shut.

“Big brother!”

Jungkook turns around. The small boy stands on his tiptoes, small arms reaching for him. Jungkook smiles, “You want to climb on my back again, Daehyun?”

“Yes!” Daehyun giggles.

“Alright then,” Jungkook crouches in front of him and Daehyun’s squeals grow louder as he loops his stubby arms around Jungkook’s neck. Jungkook stands up, securing the boy’s short legs around his torso. “Ready for some wind, big boy?” He asks. Daehyun nods frantically and soon, Jungkook is zooming on the green field, turning the heads of the children and volunteers in the park. But all Jungkook could hear was Daehyun’s laughter filling the nice summer afternoon. It brings a huge smile on Jungkook’s face.

Then—flashing blue and red lights. Cold pavement. A lone school bus standing in the middle. Its yellowness highlighted by the police’s yellow tape surrounding the area. Reporters dot every possible space on the crossroad. “Shooter on the loose.” “Poor child.” “Blood splattered on the seats.” But all Jungkook could hear is the white noise of the chattering. And the call of “Big brother!” he’ll never hear anymore.

Jungkook jolts awake. He sighs, closing his eyes. “It’s all in the past,” he mutters repeatedly under his breath. But no matter how many times he repeats it, it doesn’t shake off the horror he’s reeling in. He’s had this dream again and again for eight years straight. He should be already accustomed to it.

Jungkook sits up straight. He turns back to his computer and sees a couple of pictures open on the desktop. It was the screenshots of the CCTVs Yoongi gave them. He looks at the top of his desk. His notes empty of anything new other than Leigh Anderson’s name webbed next to an un-filled space for sponsors. Jungkook covers his face with his palms and yawns. Just then a series of text messages come in.

Unknown: This is Y/N. I know we left on bad terms three days ago. I’m the one to blame for that for overreacting. I’m sorry. It’s been a while since I’ve done a case for FJO. I’m still kinda hung up separating personal services from investigative ones. (2:13 P.M.)

Unknown: Nevertheless, I hope you’re free this day. Meet me at Somerset Road. 3 P.M. I don’t want you to waste the money you gave me yesterday (2:13 P.M.)

Somerset Road is a thirty-minute drive from the FJO Main Headquarters. However, it didn’t feel like it when Jungkook parks his car on the side road. It seemed like hours have gone by when the sun is about to set in the alcove of trees in the distance. It’s just three in the afternoon. Jungkook steps outside and shuts the door. From his position, he could make out a girl in ripped black denim pants and black tank layered with a pink see-through mesh shirt. From the striking red of the spider lilies on the top of her spine, Jungkook could tell it was Y/N. He almost didn’t recognize her. He wouldn’t know she has an undercut had her high ponytail didn’t highlight it.

The girl turns around and looks at him. “You’re late.”

“I have to bribe the Maintenance Office first to give me this afternoon’s CCTVs when we’re done.” Jungkook strides toward her, “How did you get my number?”

“Namjoon.”

Jungkook cocks a brow.

Y/N shrugs, “he wrote it in the letter you gave me. Should you, quote-unquote, be ‘difficult to deal with.’”

Jungkook keeps his lips in a straight line.

Y/N rocks on her toes, hands in her pocket. “Let’s get straight to it then. Take your clicker out and push it.”

“What are you intending to do—”

“A time jump.”

“Of course, I know that. What other purpose do we use our time jumps for?” Jungkook spits. “What I want to know is what we’re supposed to be doing first before I follow whatever you want me to do because I cannot just blindly trust you with this—”

Y/N turns her head to him, one brow cocked up, “Didn’t I tell you before I don’t fancy How-What-Why-Whatever questions to what I do or else my gift won’t work?”

“Yes, but—”

“Look, will you just push it or do you want me to snatch it from you again?” Y/N takes a step closer to him, leveling his eyes with hers. “I already did a read for today. I know its new hiding place.”

Jungkook remains unmoving in his stance.

Y/N crosses her arms. “If it would assure you, this session won’t end taxingly fruitless like the last time. I’m positive we’ll get something by the end of today.”

“How did you know?”

“I told you, I did a read for today. I saw you with an astounded face and me with a happy and proud smile. Obviously, we must have ended up finding something.”

Jungkook is still unconvinced.

Y/N sighs, “If you don’t want to do anything of what I can offer you, you know you can just terminate our connection anytime you want. Just so you know you can’t refund the 10,000 zials you gave me for the downpayment.”

Jungkook keeps his gaze on her. A couple of seconds pass before he sighs and shakes his head as he takes out his issued clicker tucked in the breast pocket of his leather jacket.

Y/N smirks. “See? You know you’re gonna need me in the end and you still try to put up an unnecessary fight.”

Jungkook grunts. He turns the clicker’s indicator to “1-2 weeks” timeframe and pushes the button.

It was just like their previous time jump—like any other Precrime time jump. It felt like nothing yet also everything at the same time. An amalgamation of sensations and perceptions flashing in front of him in the blink of an eye as he is transported back to the night of his accident. Jungkook looks down at his feet. He’s back to where he last stood at—the left side of the road next to the corner where his car will come from. Jungkook turns to his left and he almost jumps in shock. Unlike their last jump, Y/N is no longer on the opposite side of the road, but beside him, shoulders almost bumping his. Jungkook takes a staggering step away from her.

Even if Namjoon laid everything he knows about Y/N’s skills yesterday, Jungkook still finds it hard to accept that a clairvoyant is able to look into the past with such effortless access. Aren’t they only supposed to see the future?

“What are you looking at?”

Jungkook tears his gaze away from her. “Nothing.”

“Thought so, too,” Y/N quips. “We’re here to work after all. Not ogle at each other.”

Jungkook tongues his cheek. He’s not left to his frustration for long as after a second, the burning of tires on the asphalt is heard on their side of the road. A silver-gray Ford appears and it zooms past them in a flash. A black Jaguar subsequently shows up on the other side, its form nearing them each millisecond that passes. It’s only time ‘til the two crashes and sends Jungkook’s car rolling three times on the road.

But, it didn’t happen. The howls of the wind stop. The screeching of the tires halts in awkward silence. And the cars are frozen still. The Jaguar’s bumper and Ford’s right door are separated by a mere inch. It’s the second before the accident happens. Paused in a picture-like frame as if someone hit the pause icon on a video.

Jungkook whips his head to his side. Y/N has her palm closed in a post-click of her thumb and middle fingers. Jungkook feels his throat clog up, “H-how did you do that?”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Told you before, it’s because of my gift. And it’s also just seconds ago I told you I don’t like questions about how my gift works.” Y/N steps away from him and onto the road. “Follow me.”

Jungkook silently follows behind. It’s only a matter of seconds that they reach the side of the door of the silver-gray Ford. Jungkook lets his fingers touch on the coated metal. It felt cold on his flesh. Solid. Real. Jungkook can’t help but be astonished. This is no regular time jump. Totally unlike the first one he did with the woman. For this time, Jungkook doesn’t feel he’s living the film of the scene, just like any of the standard Precrime time jumping. This time, Jungkook feels he’s in the scene. Not in a film, not like the virtual reality experienced by Forecrime agents. But in real-time.

“Take your hands off your car.”

Jungkook tears his hands away from his car. He looks at the girl. Y/N gives him a pointed look, “I know this time jump doesn’t feel like the standard time jumps of Precrime so you may be astounded with,” she motions around them, “all of this. But I prefer you not to get too overwhelmed. We’re here for work.”

Jungkook nods, reluctant. Y/N walks further into the side of the road, now a foot away from the spot where the cars should crash. Jungkook quickly follows behind. When he’s by an arms-length away from her, he faces back to the scene in front of him. And then, Y/N clicks her hand.

The trees sway again. The winds continue their violent gush on the road. And the cars collide. The film is playing again.

But then, Y/N clicks her fingers. The scene stops, frozen yet again. The bumper of the Jaguar has dug into the Ford’s door, crushing the metal with its momentum. The side mirror is broken, glass shards shattering in mid-air.

“Come here,” Y/N beckons. Jungkook walks close behind as Y/N stops by the point of intersection of the two cars. From their position, Jungkook could see the past him hunched over on the wheel, seat belt digging into his torso. The window by his side is broken, a splotch of blood marring the clear glass. And on his right, Jungkook could see the driver of the black Jaguar. Non-existent.

Y/N looks at him, “So we know the man you’re after is doing an illegal time jump similar to the pattern of Precrime’s traveling agents. But what you don’t know is: he’s a professional.”

“W-what?”

“Look,” Y/N flicks her wrist and makes an anti-clockwise motion of her hand. The sound goes void again and the cars back away from each other in slow motion. Jungkook’s brows shoot up. The scene is rewinding. Y/N is turning back the time before the Jaguar collided into the Ford. And then, Y/N moves her arm horizontally to her left and clicks her fingers. The Jaguar moves forward again, but slowly this time. Jungkook could see the silhouette of the driver with arms taut on the wheel disappearing into a cloud of smoke until it turns no more but a nonexistent person on the seat as it hits the door of the Ford.

Y/N clicks her fingers and the scene pauses. “As you saw, it only took the driver,” she glances at her watch, “ten seconds before completely disappearing into his time jump. From how fast he disappeared, we could say it only took him twenty seconds in total to make the entire jump. I can only deduce this as the memories we have are short of the time we could see him in his solid form. The same way goes for the CCTVs you gathered. It only captured the last ten seconds of the whole accident. The Jaguar nonexistent in the frame from 20:23:39 and anything beyond before that time mark. The CCTVs only showed the Jaguar from 20:23:40 to exactly 20:24. The last 10 seconds, devoid of any driver.”

The girl continues, “Now, to be able to completely vanish in just 20 seconds, you must be a professional in time jumping in the past. Which can only be done if you’ve undergone training under Precrime. However, this could also be just any other outsider that’s gotten lucky doing an illegal time jump. Considering Somerset Road has a strong electromagnetic field that can help anyone do their time jumps faster and more successfully—including the risky ones that involve a huge time frame of unbounded jumps into the past. But to know that about Somerset Road, much less know how to effectively take advantage of its field during a time jump—you should be a long-time agent of Precrime.”

Y/N faces Jungkook, “The man you’re after is either a professional Precrime traveling agent or an outsider who’s fed with all the necessary information only a Precrime agent could know. It’s an inside job.”

Jungkook shakes his head, “No. It can’t be. Every time-jumping device has a permanent tracker that can never be taken out even by the best engineer. Allen McGregor designed it to be like that to ensure these devices will not be used for personal interest. Every agent is tracked of their traveling activities and logged straight into the Investigation Bureau’s files. They’re inputted in glass files similar to the crime records—void for editing, copying, and deleting. And should it be an outsider utilizing Precrime’s technology, a travel will still be tracked back to the agent whose device was used.” Jungkook looks at Y/N. “There have been no reports of anyone traveling on Somerset Road the night of my accident.”

Y/N shrugs, “I’m just saying what I saw. Especially this.” Y/N makes an anti-clockwise motion of her hands and the scene rewinds again. The Jaguar is frozen back into five seconds before it hits the silver-gray Ford. Y/N walks toward the car, Jungkook close behind. The girl motions to the passenger seat and Jungkook stills. There on the leather seat is a red file case. Unprecedented murder. Precrime Murder Sector. But this is not what rendered Jungkook immobile in shock. Rather, it’s the label on the file case.

“Jonathan Winston Assassination; August 15, 2047; 12:30:00.”

“See?” Y/N smirks, “Told you we’ll find something today.”

A click of the hand and soon, the dark night sky of Somerset Road bleeds into the burning colors of the sunset. There’s no longer the silver-gray Ford and the black Jaguar. It’s just Jungkook and Y/N alone in the road, back to where they were before.

Jungkook hunches over, coughing as he beats his chest. When he finally stabilizes his breathing back to normal, he turns to the girl. “You…Ho-how can you be so sure with all of these vi-visions?”

Y/N looks at Jungkook, an indecipherable look on her face. “This is what you paid for 10,000 zials. I’m handing you what your eyes missed on just the way they are.”

Jungkook holds in his breath as he knocks on the glass door.

“Come in.”

Jungkook pushes the door open and salutes. “Chief Nathan Spencer.”

“Captain Jeon,” the Chief of Precrime glances up at him before returning back to the stack of papers he’s signing. He motions to the chair in front of his desk, “Make yourself comfortable.”

Jungkook pulls back the black chair and sits.

“So, what brings you here?”

“This week’s report, sir—the joint investigation with DOJ on the unidentified black Jaguar.” Jungkook places a brown folder on the Chief’s desk.

The chief looks at the captain. “Still no progress in the identification?”

Jungkook shakes his head, face grim.

“That can’t be helped,” Nathan sympathetically mutters. “It’s not the first time FJO has handled a difficult case.”

“But it is the first time FJO can’t identify a suspect with its current system.”

“You’re right,” Nathan nods. He flips open the brown folder and skims the report. “How’s the auditor doing?”

Jungkook clenches his jaw. “Fine. Still…meddling with our processes.”

Nathan lets out a light scoff. “As expected of someone who’s running for a promotion. Always been a know-it-all jerk, this Min Yoongi.”

Jungkook makes a tight-lipped smile.

Nathan chuckles. “Forgive me. I’ve always had a prejudice against DOJ’s auditors. Most, if not all of them, always give us a hard time more than what’s necessary. Anyway, what else do you have for me, Jungkook?”

The captain sits up straight. “I would like to ask a favor, sir.”

Nathan clasps his hand on his desk. He leans forward. “What is it?”

“It’s for the investigation. DOJ has access to all of our files—Precrime, Forecrime, and even the Investigation Bureau. So I figured if I can also do the same since our sector seems to be their main target. If I have the same leverage on our own information as them, I can have control over this investigation and drive them away before they can even assume power over us.” Jungkook leans on the table, “We could see the problems first before they become visible to DOJ.”

Nathan raises his brow. “So what do you mean?”

“I would like to have unrestricted access in our archives. Everything that contains anything pertaining to FJO.” Jungkook leans forward, “Including the Memory Temple.”

The chief sighs, “That’s a big favor, Jungkook.”

“I know. That’s why Chief General Andrews told me to go to you.”

Nathan’s brows shoot up, “The Chief General?”

“Yes, Chief General Matthew Andrews. He said you’re good friends with Chief of the Bureau, Natasha Ryde. Chief Andrews wants to ask if you could do a favor of a friend for a friend.” Jungkook slides a white envelope underneath the folder, “Of course, not without considerable credit.”

Nathan purses his lips. A beat. He shakes his head, sighing. “Okay…I’ll try to put in a word for you. I can give you the entire archives tomorrow. But the Memory Temple could take a while. Two days or three.”

“That’s fine with me.” Jungkook smiles. He stands up and heads to the end of the room. Before he could disappear behind the door, he salutes one more time, “Thank you for the kind accommodation, Chief.”

Jungkook heads to the main elevator and hits the second floor below the Superiors’ Hall. The metal doors ding open and soon, Jungkook’s looking at a wide expanse of glass wall reflecting hundreds of shelves on the glass panes.

Jungkook heads to the entranceway and salutes at the guard, “Sally.” The guard returns the salute, smiling. Jungkook tilts his head, “Did the Bureau come by to retrieve Precrime files?”

“Not yet, sir. The Bureau’s still busy in their matters with DOJ. They halted the synching of files for now.”

“That’s good,” Jungkook quips and pushes the glass doors open.

Tall metal bookshelves snake like an accordion around the floor. The spaces between them is occasionally filled up by wooden desks that mandatorily come along with a wooden bookstand and black study lamp. It looks like a hedge maze made of old books, monochrome papers, and multi-colored files.

Jungkook heads to the leftmost aisle—Precrime’s archives. He weaves his way through the bookshelves until he stops in front of a separated room in the middle of the labyrinth. It’s made completely out of glass, just like FJO’s offices. The only difference is that this room contains five sets of desks and chairs, bookshelves, and the Archive Manager’s huge white station as the centerpiece.

And before Jungkook could finish leveling his eyes to the scanner set by the door, he could already feel the growing stare of Emily Young.

“Captain Jeon.”

“Ms. Young,” Jungkook nods to the manager.

Emily smiles, “To what do I owe your visit today?”

“Jonathan Winston’s Assassination case file.”

“As usual,” The thirty-seven-year-old manager sing-songs as she stands up and disappears into the back room. It doesn’t take long for her to retrieve what the Precrime captain is looking for.

A long expandable, red file with the label in Arial 12 print: “Jonathan Winston Assassination; August 15, 2047; 12:30:00.”

Just like in Y/N’s time jump. Identically the same. Jungkook looks at the manager, “Do you have a log of anyone who looks into this file?”

Emily chuckles, “I don’t think that will bring anything new to the table, captain.” She scans the numeric code of the file and turns the monitor of her computer towards him. “There’s no one who’s been looking at this file but you.”

Jungkook peers in. Indeed, the log on Winston’s file contains nothing but his name. From August 15, 2047, the date of Winston’s assassination, to the most recent date, August 3, 2059. The day after Leigh Anderson’s suicide. The day after the Winston case was closed cold. There’s no other name in the log for 12 years other than his name.

Jungkook looks back at Emily, “Are you sure this is the complete log on this file? No one borrowed the file earlier than July 12th?”

“That’s the whole log, captain. There’s no record on August 1st because we’re closed to do an inventory check.” Emily leans back in her chair. “Everyone knows you’re busy on a case in Down Hill for the entirety of June. The Allison future murder is all over the news. Of course, with a Metropolis resident as a future victim. And with you busy on another case, this Winston’s file is devoid of any viewers.” Emily releases a chuckle. “Every cop has an obsession with a particular case. Everyone here knows Winston’s case is yours. I think I will remember if someone other than you looked into this file because I swear that day will be a miracle.”

Jungkook purses his lips, face undecipherable. Right then, his phone rings loud. He turns to his back and picks it up. “Hello?”

“Captain.” It’s Jimin.

“What is it?”

“You have to come to the sector now. There’s a file from Precrime. It’s…a blank.”

“Okay, I’ll be there soon,” Jungkook ends the call. He faces Emily. “Thank you for today, Emily.” The archives manager nods with a playful salute at him. Jungkook quickly returns the salute and pushes the door open. Soon, he’s tearing past the labyrinth of shelves.

It doesn’t take Jungkook longer than ten minutes to reach the left-wing of the 2nd floor. The cold sweat from the discovery in the archives is still clinging on his nape.

As soon as he steps into Murder Sector, everyone’s eyes are set on him. Including Yoongi. Jungkook prods his cheek with his tongue as he slides in the gloves over his hands. “Jimin, give me the run-over.”

“Captain, Jeon. It’s a grayish-white file. Precrime, Property and Crime Scene Sector. Traveling agent in charge is Eric Williams. Crime record validated by traveling agents Hannah Peters and Ivan Park. Case number 3571, hit-and-run, destruction of property. Suspect is unknown. Victim’s name is…Jeon Jungkook.”

Jungkook whips his head towards the secretary, eyes wide.

“It’s your case, sir.” Jimin confirms, “Eric accidentally time jumped into the night of your hit-and-run while he’s traveling for a T-Bone accident in Middle Town. Property and Crime Scene figured this blank is a crucial update on your case.” He walks to the end of the glass board and slides the disk into the middle slot.

Jungkook turns to his front. The glass board lights up and a video starts playing. It’s Somerset Road and it’s almost pitch black in the grainy film. Eric stands frozen on the pavement for a second. But the seeming serenity of the scene soon dissipates as he looks down at his gear and frantically fumbles for his time jumper. Suddenly, hot blinding light fills his peripherals. Eric’s head shoots up. A car is speeding toward him. The headlights grow larger and finally, the car becomes visible. It’s the silver-gray Ford. Eric turns around and right then, a black Jaguar zooms past him, merely missing him by a hairsbreadth. But the Jaguar doesn’t stop and further increases its speed. It bulldozers right into the side of the Ford, sending it flying across the barren road. Eric picks up his feet and dashes to the cars. But his efforts are futile. The black Jaguar has already disappeared before he could even take his 12th step. And then, the record stops.

Before Jimin could even state the protocol run-through, Jungkook frantically swipes through the blank record. He slides across the frames in reverse, back and backward until he reaches the first second of the blank.

“Sir, I’m afraid we have to do the protocol first—"

Jungkook’s hand stills on the board. The frame freezes. It’s a close-up of the black Jaguar as it barely grazes Eric’s body. Jungkook zooms in. There inside the passenger seat of the car is a long, red expandable file. “Jonathan Winston Assassination; August 15, 2047; 12:30:00.”

Jungkook feels his blood run cold. It’s the same file he just had his hands on less than 15 minutes ago. It’s the same file he saw in his and Y/N’s jump. Y/N’s vision is true.

Jungkook feels his pocket vibrate and he quickly whips out his phone. However, he wasn’t able to dwell on it longer as a hard force pushes his shoulder backward, forcing Jungkook to tear his eyes off the screen.

Yoongi glares at him, “Why are you indifferent about this? You know something about this, didn’t you? Captain Jeon!”

But even with his name called out loud, Jungkook couldn’t hear anything. All that registers in his mind is one single message.

Y/N L/N: Have you ever heard of a Sooah Kim before? (11:14 A.M.)

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Note: This story is based on Steven Spielberg’s film adaptation of Philip K. Dick’s short story, Minority Report (2002). That being said, this series may contain spoilers for the movie so if you want to watch the movie, please do so first before reading!

A/N | Hi hons! Thank you for reading the 2nd chapter! I hope I got you guys more curious about the story hehe. Anyway, I have some announcement: I have finals for a major coming up this week so I’ll spend the next whole week studying. So, I’ll try if I can update the next chap the week after next week, on Sunday, too. But nothing is certain yet as I still have some uni stuff to do. Don’t worry, I only have 3 projects left to do to finally finish this sem. So as soon as I’m done with them, expect more frequent updates from me!

If you guys wanna get notified as soon as I post the next chapter, I’m gonna add you all in my taglist! Just hit me up down the comments of this series’ masterlist so I can better track you all! The search function of Tumblr is messing with me and my notifs in my inbox usually come late so it’s highly probable your asks and DMs may get lost ☹

Once again, thank you for reading and giving a chance to My Time! :”)

Notes: As you know, this is a mystery fic. So, it will be most appreciated if any theories pertaining to the story be kept down the comments so I can entertain them all without spoiling our future readers! Once again, thank you so much for reading this!

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hannahlhnd2021 · 3 years

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Seeing the light - task 1 - inspiration

Portraiture equipment & techniques

For a modern day professional portrait, three point lighting will be a typical setup as it gives a rounded exposure of the subject with a nice array of highlights and shadows balanced evenly. Three point lighting typically includes one key light (main light source), one fill light (opposite to key light, balances shadows) and one rim light which sits behind the subject and helps separate the torso from the background by adding a rim of highlight.

In flash photography you can decrease F stops on the light to increase shadows in the image and have much more dramatic lighting, to the point where you can illuminate only half of a face and leave the rest in shadow (low key). Alternatively you can increase F stops and make a high key portrait, full of whites and highlights.

High key vs low key:

Depending on whether your subject has an interesting background behind them, in an environmental portrait for example, you can increase or decrease your aperture to incorporate more or less of it.

Environmental portrait:

Shutter speed also plays a big part. You generally want to make sure your subject is in focus unless it’s a particular action shot like someone playing sports, and capturing that movement would make the image more dramatic. A higher shutter speed will keep the subject sharp and in focus whereas a slower one will include that movement and blurriness.

Fast shutter speed:

Slow shutter speed:

Different areas of portraiture

https://www.splento.com/blog/photography/easy-guide-to-portrait-photography-styles/

Top ten types of portrait photography including candid, lifestyle, glamour, self portraits, and environmental.

Candid photography:

Self portrait photography:

Historical figures in photographic portraiture

George Hurrell (1904-1992) was a portrait photographer born in Kentucky, United States. He grew up in Ohio and went on to study at the Art Institute of Chicago, at first only using photography to take pictures of his paintings.

He lived at a ‘painting colony’ in California, where ironically he started to prefer photography. He took some photos of actress Norma Shearer that became very popular, and gradually worked his way into photographing more Hollywood stars at the time, including Marilyn Monroe.

George Hurrell self portrait:

One of the Norma Shearer portraits:

Douglas Fairbanks Jr. by George Hurrell.

Another historical figure in portrait photography would be James Van Der Zee (1886-1983). James grew up in Massachusetts and became famous for photographing black New Yorkers, especially during the Harlem Renaissance era. He produced fantastic documentation of the era. He was also a professional violinist.

“During the 1920s and 1930s, he produced hundreds of photographs recording Harlem's growing middle class. Its residents entrusted the visual documentation of their weddings, funerals, celebrities and sports stars, and social life to his carefully composed images.[3] Quickly Van Der Zee became the most successful photographer in Harlem. Among his many renowned subjects were poet Countee Cullen, dancer Bill ("Bojangles") Robinson, Charles M. "Daddy" Grace, Joe Louis, Florence Mills, and black nationalist leader Marcus Garvey.”

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Van_Der_Zee

James Van Der Zee:

Marcus Garvey with George O. Marke and Prince Kojo Tovalou-Houénou, 1924 by James Van Der Zee

‘Couple, Harlem, 1932′ by James Van Der Zee:

One new portrait photographer - Zay Yar Lin

https://zayyarlin.photoshelter.com/about/index

https://www.instagram.com/zayyarlin84/?hl=en

Zay Yar Lin is from Yangon, Myanmar. He was born there and still lives there. It is the largest city in Myanmar with a population of 5,421,806 today. His full time job is as a ship captain on the sea but he is trying to cross over into photography being his entire career. He has never officially taken a photography class or studied photography at an institution, he is fully self taught from the internet. His most famous images were shot in Ethiopia, but he also has beautiful images from Mongolia. He runs photography workshops in Myanmar and has received many awards for his work. His work has been published in prestigious magazines such as National Geographic and Wanderlust.

“I was born in Taungdwingyi, Myanmar, a country where a lot of beautiful places are existed. I've been into photography since 2014 ... My passion is to document people, landscapes, culture and relation between them. I mainly focus on daily life, portraits and culture; images that tell stories of people and sense of the places. I always seek the moment and light in capturing travel images and try to use my photographic instinct to turn ordinary to extraordinary. As a photographer, my objective is to witness the moment and record the human stories. I believe photography can capture powerful story telling images and inspire us to make a positive change in our world.” - Zay Yar Lin

Zay Yar Lin:

Images from Ethiopia:

Other notable images:

#inspiration #seeingthelight

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mythicamagic · 4 years

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Sesskag week Day 4: Comedy

Summary: Kagome resolves to snap a photo of the infamous Killing Perfection, which proves more difficult than expected. Oneshot.

AN: For Sesskag Week Day 4 - Comedy.

Rated T

2,900 words

(all prompts posted on Ao3, fanfic.net and Dokuga)

Camera Shy

To the surprise of pretty much all who knew her, Kagome pursued art and photography in those three years away from the feudal era. In fact, even after the well re-opened, she continued to take classes, often creating life-like drawings from whatever photos she'd taken.

After joining everyone on a warm spring day for a picnic, Shippo had innocently inquired;

"What's that, Kagome?" pointing at a square black box hanging around her neck.

Grinning, she tapped it with pride.

"This is my instant polaroid camera. Very vintage, very hipster- some might say," she giggled, noting everyone's puzzled looks. Raising it, she took a snap of the fox demon, who yelped and ducked behind Sango's leg.

Crouching down, Kagome held out the photo once it had slid from the camera, shaking it gently and showing him the blank space that slowly filled with his image.

"Fascinating," Miroku hummed, while Sango nodded in awe. Inuyasha merely snorted, unimpressed since he'd been exposed to so much future tech already.

Kaede gasped, staring at the picture with mild concern.

"You have imprisoned him."

"What? No-" Kagome smiled and shook her head. "It's just a photo. Kind of like a painting. I feel bad that I never took any before but I was always so busy with Naraku or studying for tests."

Taking the photo gingerly, Shippo grinned at himself. He then beamed brighter and tugged on Kagome's sleeve. "Let's go show Rin!"

---

After taking various photos that would make a historian lose their mind, Kagome sat back within Kaede's hut and sketched some snapshots. She quietly giggled at the candid pictures; Inuyasha caught mid-yawn, exposing his thick fangs. Miroku studying a scroll while holding his youngest son, who drooled all over his robes, Kirara playing with a ball of yarn, Sango teaching her daughter a style of kickboxing, or Shippo trying to cram an entire sandwich in his mouth at once.

While looking through them, however, one particular figure seemed to be missing among her collection.

Approaching the stoic demon lord with perhaps a little too much familiarity and enthusiasm, Kagome smiled at him as he peacefully reclined against a tree.

"Sesshoumaru," she raised her camera slightly from where it hung around her neck. "I don't know if you've noticed on your visits but lately I've been taking-"

"Photos. Rin showed me some."

Kagome stopped and hummed. He caught on fast. And judging by how warily he eyed her camera, the answer to her question simmering right on the edge of her tongue would be a big fat no.

"Right! Sooo I've taken photos of just about everyone now," dragging her sneaker back and forth over the dirt, a hopeful smile graced her mouth. "All except you."

"No."

Ah, no use in sugar-coating it, huh?

Kagome rose a brow and folded her arms. "May I ask why?"

Giving a sigh that bespoke of his annoyance with having to explain himself, Sesshoumaru idly studied sharp nails. "I do not believe you have earned it."

Out of all the things she'd expected him to say, that wasn't on the extensive list. "I haven't earned a picture of you?"

"Hn."

Smiling slightly, she sized him up. "And what do I need to do in order to get a snap of the illustrious Lord Sesshoumaru?"

Golden eyes slanted up at her and crinkled at the edges in slight amusement. Kagome's insides went all warm for some reason, cheeks reddening. "You needn't do anything grand. This one is merely discontent with letting you capture a picture of me so easily. I will not forbid you from trying, however."

Kagome tried to follow his line of logic, experimentally shifting- before grabbing her camera and rapidly pressing the button.

Sesshoumaru blurred away from his spot.

Jolting, the miko whipped her head around, grasping her photo and watching as it cleared to reveal a plain tree. No Daiyoukai in sight.

A piquant scent filled her next inhale. Kagome's skin pricked, hot breath dancing over the nape of her neck.

"Do you understand now, miko?" he rumbled.

"Y-yeah," glancing at him over her shoulder, she tried in vain to ignore the heat in her cheeks and pleasant twinge in her lower stomach. "Sure, I'll play your game- and win too."

Confidence clung to Sesshoumaru like a second skin as he tilted his chin up, the ghost of a smile curling his mouth. "Hn."

---

The next time Lord Sesshoumaru deigned to grace the village with his presence, Kagome was ready. Having memorised his visiting schedule with Rin long before, she lay in wait within the trees.

Grinning sharply, she let out an evil laugh reminiscent of Naraku's 'kukukuku.'

Straddling a tree branch and hearing Shippo's signal (a whistle from further away in the trees) Kagome tightened both legs around her perch and held the camera, holding still. It had only taken a few lollipops to persuade the kitsune to help.

Heart thundering and eagle-eyed, Kagome waited with bated breath for any sign of the Daiyoukai wandering below en-route to the village.

Upon glimpsing the tell-tale red and white silks and silver hair, Kagome swung herself down. Gripping the branch hard with her legs, dark hair flew up, leaves being knocked free and cascading around her as she appeared before him, hanging upside down.

With a smirk, she struck her finger onto the button- just as Sesshoumaru blurred through the air, palm closing over the lens.

Kagome squeaked, mouth falling open. Her gaze slid from camera to Daiyoukai, who gazed at her, face quite close to hers. Thin lips then curved down, but from her flipped perspective, she realised the jerk was smirking at her.

Kagome's legs then lost their grip. Yelping, the miko dropped like a sack of potatoes, landing hard at his feet in a sprawl of limbs. Letting out a long groan, Kagome patted around, hands empty. Something light was then placed onto the crown of her head. Reaching up, she felt the camera and frowned just as Sesshoumaru smoothly stepped over her body and sauntered away, continuing on without a care in the world.

Growling, Kagome sat up, rubbing her throbbing skull.

Shippo burst from the trees and landed beside her. "Ahh that was a colossal failure! You okay Kagom-"

A giggle slid out from the miko, shoulders shaking. Shippo's tail puffed up, observing her wide smile with slight unease.

"Heh, he's pretty good," she flashed a sharp grin, cheeks glowing. "This is fun. Who knew such a stuffy guy could be playful."

Shippo tilted his head to the side, not exactly understanding but smiling anyway. "Let's go with plan B!" he encouraged.

Kagome nodded with determination.

---

Typically during the afternoon portion of his visit, Sesshoumaru would leave Rin to her duties and go recline against a tree situated near a small lake, sometimes reading. Following this ritual, the Daiyoukai now sat at the base of a tree and drew up one knee. Drinking in the quiet serenity of the picturesque scenery, Sesshoumaru leaned his head back and looked out at the glittering water-

-only to notice a reed moving.

Raising a brow, he blinked. Relaxed muscles then stiffened, and he reacted seconds before Kagome lunged up from within the water, a waterproof camera in hand and reed clutched between her teeth as a breathing tube.

Yanking her camera up, Kagome's victorious expression changed the second she registered red youki cloaking his form, curling around it like a thick mist.

By the time his energy dissipated, a giant silver furred inuyoukai towered above her.

Blue eyes widened, which only caused the smirk to grow wider on his feral jaws. Sesshoumaru slammed a paw down into the water.

Yelping, Kagome was soon consumed in a mini tidal wave.

By the time she'd surfaced, coughing and minding slick hair away from her face, the dog demon had trotted away, tail swishing behind him with an arrogant flair. Kagome glared and trudged to shore, leaving soggy footsteps on the sand.

"Uh...Plan C?" Shippo chanced weakly, hopping out of some bushes.

Kagome nodded, sputtering some lake water from her mouth. "Plan C."

---

The way she figured, Sesshoumaru was one of the fastest beings alive. Yet with every attempt to take his photo, he'd not turned tail and ran once, instead meeting her head-on.

This led her to believe that if she could distract him with enough things, he'd stay rooted to the spot out of sheer bullheaded pride but be too overwhelmed to react as she took a photo.

With all this in mind, Kagome adjusted the bow and quiver of arrows over her shoulder before gripping a saddle and unsteadily climbing onto the back of a horse.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Shippo said, tail twitching worriedly as he gazed up at the tall steed.

"Kaede said she didn't mind me borrowing her horse, I don't see the problem," Kagome wobbled and clutched at the reins.

"But you don't even know how to ride a horse!"

"I know the basics," she huffed, clicking her tongue and urging the horse into a walk. "See? Easy. Now, let's just do this as we practised and it'll run smoothly," touching the camera hanging around her neck, she grinned.

The fox demon hurried alongside the horse to keep up with her. "When we practised you weren't on a horse," he mumbled worriedly. "Can we go through it again, just to check?"

"Oh alright, worry-wort," Kagome smiled. "Sesshoumaru is going to come from that direction," she pointed further along the dirt road. "You'll burst out of the forest and turn into a smoke bomb to disorientate him. I'm going to come galloping by and release one of these," Kagome touched the fletching of an arrow. "Which has been modified to be soft pointed and filled with a strong perfume that'll release on contact. This'll temporarily daze him further while the smoke clears- and when that happens, I'll loop around him and snap my picture."

Shippo continued on all-fours, frowning to himself. "I'm still not too confident in my smoke bomb illusion though."

"I know you can do it," she smiled. "Don't sell yourself short."

"But maybe something else would work better, like this-" he hopped up and burst into his floating pink ball form with a loud 'pop!'

The horse suddenly reared, making a whinny of distress, eyes wide with fright. Kagome gasped, clinging to it's back and yelping as it bolted.

Shippo gaped and popped back into his regular form, watching her image draw further away at a breakneck speed. "Kagome!"

Squeezing her eyes shut and feeling the horse gallop with powerful strides that threatened to knock her off, all she could do was cling to its neck. The reins flailed in the air- and if she could just grab them and pull the beast to halt, maybe he would stop. Kagome whimpered, body jolting from the movement. Cracking open fearful blue eyes and trying to reach for them- she felt her thigh slip slightly. Quickly abandoning that idea, she clung like a madwoman, tears stinging her lashes from the breeze racing by.

I screwed up! This was a terrible idea!

Looking ahead of them with mild disorientation caused her breath to hitch the second she caught sight of a pale figure. She stiffened.

Sesshoumaru stood on the road. They were headed right for him!

"Sesshoumaru!" she cried, trying to get across to move aside.

The Daiyoukai observed them with a frosty expression, slowly raising his claws.

Noticing the toxins colouring them green, her eyes widened. "Don't hurt him!" she burst. The fault lay with her, not the horse.

Sesshoumaru's eyes flickered with mild frustration. He then leapt up in the air to avoid a collision, floating above their heads. The sight of him became blurry because of tear-filled eyes, and Kagome ducked her head into the horse's mane.

Speeding before them again and landing, Sesshoumaru then drew his sword. Lifting it- he then slammed the blade into the earth. Bakusaiga emitted a large burst of green youki, skittering over the ground in a wide arch that flashed like minty lightning.

The horse skidded to a stop, kicking up dirt and neighing, rearing back on hind legs. Kagome gasped, unprepared for the movement- but clinging hard.

Slamming both hooves down and whickering, the horse panted wildly, finally still. Feeling hands slide under her numb thighs and wrap around her torso, Kagome stiffly unfolded from the saddle, placing her hands on broad shoulders as she was lifted down.

Kagome buried her face in the demon's neck, shuddering violently. She muffled sobs into his flesh, gripping his exquisite silks so tight her knuckles bled white.

Sesshoumaru held her without a word, nose dipping into windswept dark hair.

When Shippo finally caught up, having pursed on all fours, he jumped up into her arms and wailed louder than she, crying and nuzzling the frazzled miko.

Calming and smiling tiredly, she petted his soft red hair, looking up at Sesshoumaru. He gazed back, face closer than expected. He then shifted mokomoko beneath her legs to support her weight, picking up the reins of the horse and leaving the road.

"Are you angry with me?" she muttered, feeling the tension in his frame.

"Answer me this; can you ride horses?"

"N-no..."

"Then you were foolish," Sesshoumaru bit out. "But one cannot completely predict horses. I do not care for them," he threw a glare over his shoulder at the steed dutifully following them. He then released a hard exhale through his nose, levelling a frown at her. "Never do something so ridiculous again for a game, miko. My picture is not worth injury...or worse."

Kagome rested her cheek against his furs, looking up at him and feeling a twinge in her chest. His worry felt better than any blanket and hot cocoa could right then.

Noticing what direction he headed in, Kagome touched a striped cheek. "L-let's not head to the village just yet. I'd rather...calm down in the forest somewhere."

Sesshoumaru rose a brow but nodded, feet shifting and changing direction, walking beneath the shadows of the trees.

---

She felt glad of the quiet, the calm serenity surrounding their afternoon after all the chaos earlier. The horse grazed within a clearing near the lake, seeming to comfort eat. Shippo had fallen asleep, curled into a ball at her side. Kagome quietly sketched with a notebook and pencil in hand, sitting against a tree. Opposite her, Sesshoumaru reclined against his own, gazing at the scenery with a touch of daydream hazing his eyes. The light bathed his hair in a gentle glow, eyes the colour of milky honey instead of the usual burning embers.

So lost in thought was he that Kagome smiled. She then cleared her throat to gain his languid attention, turning the sketchbook around so that the page faced him.

"I win," she said softly.

Surprise slackened his expression, attention flitting over the paper where his likeness lay with impressive attention to detail. The pencil shading captured the soft shadows of his face, the richer, darker tones coloured his chest armour. Even the long silver hair looked sublime, life-like. Somehow the minute details and the idea of her watching- staring at him for so long made his ancient blood heat.

He realised, somewhat belatedly, that this was what he'd sought. Not a quick, cheap snap of a camera, but her willing and arrested attention upon his face.

Sesshoumaru dragged his gaze from the picture to dancing blue eyes.

"Indeed."

Kagome smiled, turning the picture back to gaze at it with affection.

"Why did you desire a picture of this one so badly?" he asked.

Not looking up, she brushed a thumb over the sketches pointed ear. "I like having pictures of my friends. Besides, this is yours now. A thank you gift for saving me."

Sesshoumaru observed her carefully, noticing the quiet fondness gentling her features as she looked at the picture instead of him. Because it was safer than gazing at him.

"Let me see it up close," Sesshoumaru uttered.

Kagome raised her head and blinked but nonetheless rose and walked over. The second she crouched before him- a clawed hand shot out, wrapping around her wrist and tugging.

This resulted in her body swaying forward, nose stopping inches from his as she squeaked.

"You seem to find satisfaction in looking at this one, miko," his voice curled into a teasing tone. "Perhaps this proximity is preferable."

Kagome's mouth turned dry, heart thundering. Setting the sketchbook down and shifting her knees beneath her, she nodded with a shy smile. "Y-yeah...it is. I'm glad you noticed," she murmured, placing her hands on the cool, steady metal of his chest plate. When she did not pull away in rejection, Sesshoumaru's clawed hand slid possessively to her waist. An aristocratic nose brushed hers, mouth hovering close.

"Do you do this with your friends too?"

She huffed, blushing. "No, only with crushes."

Thin lips tugged up at the edges before spreading wider with victory, flashing a fang. Kagome found it perfectly endearing. A rare, beautiful moment she wished she could capture forever. But, as the Daiyoukai guided her mouth to his wickedly grinning one, she figured they had plenty of opportunities to repeat such a soft moment, however many times they wished.

End

#sesskag #skw2020 #Sesshoumaru x Kagome #sesskagweek 2020 #Kagome Higurashi #Sesshoumaru #Inuyasha

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middleinthenight21 · 4 years

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DamiRae Week 2020- Day 1

Costumes

His disguise is horrible, he knows that. Damian Wayne spends most of the night strolling among the guests carrying a glass of champagne and a grimace under the black band that covered his mouth.

He was glad that he chose a costume as little revealing as it is, it fits the uniform he used to wear in the league of the shadows, being a pair of pants, jacket and black hood, in conjunction with a band that only left his eyes on view; he was not interested in being recognized. His brothers would have complained about bringing a replica of a uniform and his father would not be happy with the association, however, he bought wings in a small costume store whose wings simulated bone, joined by a porous plastic that gave the impression of being cartilage. When the owner of the store offers him the wings, he thinks they are small, that a structure like this could never support the weight of an adult, but he says nothing.

He can be anonymous.

His father had dragged them to an event commemorating the Wayne companies anniversary, Damian thinks his father is anticipating that some Gotham villain would attack the tower, but he hasn't said anything and it's not as if Bruce Wayne was very communicative with the information he shares in the family. Sometimes he understands it, most of the time he doesn´t, because he hates walking blindfolded.

He had been taught since he was a child that preparation is a prerequisite for victory and that faith is a waste fools allow themselves. He definitely hates it.

He glances at his older brother, flirting with a red-haired woman, she's attractive in a revealing pastel dress and there's a white mask holding up a chin. He rolls his eyes when his hands come dangerously close.

He does not understand what women see in Richard Grayson, the man can be a complete idiot.

"Don't look so angry" Emiko Queen appears next to him. He is surprised that she managed to recognize him. "Tim Drake tagged you in his photo. "

Growls.

He had hoped to go unnoticed. He observed her out of the corner of his eye, the young woman was dressed in a shirt that read "I wore a costume" and some casual jeans, she looked disinterested as if she did not want to come and her statement on the shirt was a sign of rebellion.

"Are you here for your brother?"

She growls.

"Yes. He likes to attend these elegant parties, he left me no choice" Emiko reaches for a glass of champagne as a waiter passes by with a tray. "A toast to the fun? "

Damian looked at her.

A few months ago, they had been dating, nothing formal, since neither of them liked the idea of romantic relationships, everything was casual. He thought Emiko was great, someone who proved to be more than what was seen with the naked eye. They are both people who had a strict upbringing and gave themselves to protect the innocent, however, the similarities are just that and it did not mean that two people worked together.

They are still friends.

He bumps his glass with hers.

"My God, could you smile, even once?"

He rolled his eyes.

The night flows slowly, although Damian stays next to his friend, he does not get the fun and he does not feel entirely comfortable around all these wealthy people; The laughter echoed throughout the room and is as elegant as it is empty. He is used to formality, but if he is sincere expecting a villain to break in, then he would have something more interesting to do.

Emiko is not happy either, but she pretends and when she is with her brother a smile slips over her lips, the weight disappears from her shoulders and she moves lightly. Now, they dance around the dance floor and he thinks Oliver Queen's archer angel costume is too revealing, it leaves his torso visible through a maya and his feathered wings take up a lot of space.

Both siblings move lightly.

He looks around him, Tim and Stephanie are talking to their group of friends, Jason talks to Roy, his best friend and can see how malicious smiles are born on their faces. The two of them act like it´s their private club.

Cass is talking to her father.

Emiko ran to her side, a smile on her face and she seemed illuminated by a new aura. Rarely had he seen her so excited, she carries a camera that hangs in her hands and waves it at him, like a flag.

Damian frowns, he does not understand his emotion.

"We have to take a picture of ourselves!"

He was going to reply, but she quickly requested help from someone who was passing, it is a girl; She is disguised as a witch, her bluish black dress falls to the ground and her pointed cap covers her hair revealing short dark strands that caress her shoulders. A mask over her eyes, the patterns are like a black spider web and it has an elongated shape.

Damian nicknames her on his head as "Witch Girl."

"Please take a picture of us."

Witch girl opens her mouth to answer, but the camera was already in her hands and Emiko would not accept a denial, she stands next to him and gets close to him. He tenses up when he feels pressured by Emiko to take this photograph. He doesn't like to see himself in photos, he had grown up differently, although he knows everything he needs and more, he still finds it strange to use technology for entertainment.

"It is for my brother."

As if that clarifies something.

Emiko straightens up next to him, a smile slipping across her face and he seems more like a soldier than a casual civilian who wants to capture a moment. Damian doesn't know where to put his hands, so he laces them behind his back and squares his shoulders, lifts his chin and ignores the smell of champagne in his mouth. The murmur and the sound of the orchestra shouting in the room, along with the knock on his friend's foot.

He focuses his gaze on the girl who points the camera at them. The device falls from her hands a few centimeters and she murmurs:

"He looks sad."

She says it to him, he is sure of that. He wouldn't have heard a thing will all the loud sounds, but he learned to lip read a few years ago, a skill that he found useful especially when you have to spy undetected. He wants to tell the witch girl that it's not true, and he's fine, everything is very good in his life. There is nothing he wants, he can snap his fingers and have what he wants, he surrounds himself with the most powerful people in the world, he observes things many would only dream of and found a family. She does not know anything.

A smile glides across his lips, the muscles in his cheeks tighten, unaccustomed to smiling, and he can feel his eyes take on small lines of expression.

The camera snaps back into place. It is as if the witch girl knew that he was smiling, despite not seeing the smile she feels he exhibited, but she had not given him the reason and that makes him happy for some reason. The witch girl was not right.

He doesn't look sad.

He can feel her eyes piercing him behind the contact lens, he distinguishes a dark color, like a purple beta, he has never seen a tone like this and he remembers that his father spoke of an actress with violet eyes, but that she had already died.

Elizabeth Taylor is the only person in the world with violet eyes, he had said, but he was wrong.

Now they look like wise eyes, like a rare diamond. Damian cocks his head trying to make out the face behind the device, only to have a piece of information to brag about in front of his father.

The flash blinks and the photo is captured.

"They look great together." The witch girl approaches and places the camera in Emiko's hands with a small smile. She leaves with her head down without looking back, the cloak of her dress rushes in midair and for the first time she notices, it catches the light in small flashes, in shiny blue stones.

Emiko speaks, but Damian barely hears what she is saying, because he still wants to see her face.

He does not like to remain in doubt.

"Do you think I look sad to you?"

She gasps, looks at him as if a horn had grown "I don't understand what you want ... "

He was no longer with her.

She does not see him for the rest of the night, so she simply shrugs and takes the opportunity to take photos with her brother and her fiancée. She would enjoy the night with or without Damian.

***

Later, Emiko would wonder what his eyes see when she looks at the photograph in the gallery, she and Damian are standing behind that old painting next to a plant, smiling happily for the moment. However, the attitude of friend distracted he shows signs of a smile and observes a point as if it were very interesting, a topic to talk about for hours, it seems that he is treading on another planet.

Damian could smile?

She had never seen him roll his eyes.

What had he seen?

"Oh no," Dinah leans on the sofa, looking at the photograph. She realizes she had zoomed in on the photo framing Damian's face. "I know that look. "

"What look?" She asks, interested.

Dinah Lance sits down on the sofa seat and smiles "He's in love. I know that look because I see it every day. "

Damian in love? That's ridiculous. It is impossible, there is much doubt in that equation, since their relationship ended a long time ago and they split quite well. Besides, he had never had those eyes for her.

"From who? "

The blonde laughs "From your brother. "

And Oliver is an idiot now.

***

Extra.

Damian walked around the room. He ignores the callers, including his brothers who want him to meet their groups of friends. Dick calls him as he wants to introduce him to his new conquest, Jason probably wants to annoy him, Stephanie wants to show him something (He wasn't going to talk about Tim Drake, because he doesn't count) and Cass frowns when she sees him walking through the crowd aimlessly.

He is looking for someone with a pointed hat, it is impossible to have more than one people like that.

Finally, there is a figure nearby having a glass of champagne, he only sees her back, but he would recognize that costume anywhere. His feet stop on a small slip on the polished ceramic floor and his heart hammers anxiously in his chest. He would have his answers.

He gives her a better look.

The witch girl has a costume in bluish tones, it´s smooth and hugs her slim figure. Gloves of the same color reach her elbows, and there is a small bracelet around her wrist in gold tones. What stands out the most is the pointed hat with a brim that brings shadows to her face.

Other girls had chosen mind-blowing costumes, elaborate hairstyles, and elegant outfits that were made to attract attention, but this girl is not flashy or flamboyant, she is simple. Damian finds something puzzling in her aura of mystery, but he has never been someone who will leave the mysteries unsolved.

He gulps and walks to her side.

She pretends to be interested in the snack table. Her eyes sweep over the food and he can see how she struggles to decide if she is going to eat those canapes or the miniature cakes, finally she chooses the cakes.

She has a sweet tooth.

He looks askance at her. He notices new details about the witch girl. Like she has a small red crystal on her forehead and gold star-shaped earrings falling down the sides of her face.

She has a smooth profile, as if she had been sculpted by delicate hands: A rounded chin, an upturned nose and soft skin, perhaps it she too pale, she probably does not like the sun very much.

She reaches for a chocolate bar and bites it "Chocolate makes me feel better."

Damian gulps again. He is not sure why; he does not like it.

He wants to end it all at once.

"Why do I look sad?"

She opens her eyes, turns to look at him and is amazed. Now, they are face to face, even with the mask on, you can see her surprised expression and the witch girl has more violet eyes than he had seen, and now she looks embarrassed.

"Sorry." Her voice is soft with a scratchy note. It´s unusual "It was just a thought that crossed my mind. "

He raised an eyebrow.

"You said I looked sad." He crosses his arms. "Why? "

She looks like she's about to run away, but she does something more puzzling to him, squares her shoulders and takes a firm stance. She is proud.

"You weren't smiling."

That's why?

He had looked for someone in an entire room where there are more than two hundred guests, only to be answered in this way. He wants to hit his forehead criticizing himself, but not everything is so bad. The witch girl watches him with attentive eyes, waiting for a sharp response, but instead a smile of amusement appears on Damian's face.

He slides the band that covers half of his face. They look at each other face to face, she decides to slide up the mask and they smile, because both are aware that this is ridiculous.

"I'm Raven." She extends her hand and he reciprocate.

Her nickname as "Witch Girl" slips into her name. He observes her eyes fascinated by the color of violet so rare. Despite the abnormality of the tone and her fresh face, he can feel as if he had met her at another time. He is aware that he has never seen her before, he does not believe in good first impressions, but he had the feeling that there was nothing to fear.

"Damian."

Not everything is so bad. He has the impression that his night can improve, he did not wear this costume anymore.

´´With you I feel alright

It´s been a long night´´

(THANK YOU @ravenfan1242 ❤❤ )

#damirae week 2020 #damirae #Damian Wayne #raven #raven x damian

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harlot-of-oblivion · 4 years

Text

The Devil’s In The Details

All work and no play makes Dante a dull devil. But he soon finds a cure for his boredom when a smokin' hot detective comes a-knockin' on his door.

The title and overall feel of this chapter is inspired by the song "A Girl Like You" by Edwyn Collins.

Chapter 3: Never Met A Girl Like You

You look up Dante’s profile as soon as you get back to your desk. The Lieutenant was not exaggerating that this man’s file is incredibly long; it almost reads like a fictional novel filled with colorful characters and bloody descriptions. Unfortunately, all these reports are real and if any of what you read is remotely true, then you really have your work cut out for you this time.

It all starts with the infamous demon attack on Sparda Manor, which is common knowledge to most locals nowadays. The only body found in the rubble of their burnt down home was Eva Sparda, the matriarch of the family, and the rest of the family was pronounced dead soon after the incident. You narrow your eyes at that little detail…it’s rather strange that they just jumped to that conclusion even though there isn’t enough sufficient evidence to back up the claim.

The next notable part of the profile is all about the escapades of Tony Redgrave. You resist the urge to facepalm yourself while reading about all the events that occurred under his on the nose alias. It all seems to be standard fare on par with mercenary work, so you skip ahead a little until hitting another infamous incident involving some crazy ass tower…a lot of information about what happened has been redacted except that the Son of Sparda was definitely involved as well as an associate only known as Lady.

You read ahead again and raise an eyebrow at the strange report about a beautiful woman smashing through his shop while riding a motorcycle. This mysterious woman is later confirmed to be another associate known as Trish. Then it seems he left to do some outside work, so there isn’t much details except for a few witness statements here and there. The most noteworthy detail is the sudden appearance of a young man bearing a striking resemblance to the white-haired mercenary known as Nero.

A memory flashes before your mind at the name. You’ve seen this young man before; it was during the Red Grave incident involving the demon tree. You did not get the chance to speak with him…all you can remember is nodding to a young man with short white while leading a group of citizens caught in the demonic fray to safety. And speaking of that debacle, you skim through the reports about Dante’s role in that devastating event, which again seems to be scarce except that he was definitely hired to take care of whatever or whoever planted that freaky ass tree.

From what you can glean from the extensive damage reports, complaints about disturbing the peace, and the high rate of death and destruction…it paints Dante as a womanizing playboy who shows no concern for the wellbeing of others, which makes him a highly dangerous individual. Your fingers tap on your desk as you carefully sift through the information you have just gathered, noting that some of the reports have a healthy dose of prejudice attached to them. A good detective knows that preconceptions should never be taken at face value when searching for the truth. So, perhaps he’s more of a flirty troublemaker with a pension for hunting demons, which has earned him quite the reputation among mercenaries and police alike. You lean back in your chair and mentally weigh the risks of seeking out this infamous devil hunter in hopes of ridding the city of another demonic threat.

The soft chiming of your phone breaks you away from your deep contemplation. You pull it out your pocket and shuffle through a series of texts from Carmen. A couple of them are pictures of the victim’s garage, specifically a set of golf clubs found in the corner. She goes on to explain that this could be the murder weapon, but she will have to run some tests to confirm her suspicions. You take out your sketchbook and update the depiction of the crime scene with a drawing of a golf club with a question mark beside it. The other texts inform you about the safe key and missing dog. Carmen didn’t find any kind of safe or lock box that goes with the key, so she’s just adding it with the rest of evidence for further investigation. And there is still no sign of the family dog either.

No surprise there, you thought while texting her back about your heated argument with the Lieutenant and your plan of seeking outside assistance from a demon hunter. You also let her know that Graves is fine, just shaken up from the missing body that could very well be the zombie bride she gushed about earlier. While waiting for her response, you check your email for the record of medical examiners that Graves sent, and you file a report about the missing body from the morgue.

After completing those tasks, you decide to grab a quick breakfast and do some more investigating before setting out to find the Legendary Devil Hunter. You collect your sketchbook and grab another cup of coffee on the way out, gulping it all down in a few long sips while you walk through the station. Your phone chimes multiple times as you approach the exit, but you withhold from checking it as you slip past a slew of reporters standing outside the station. All of them are none the wiser as you gear up for a long ride before hopping on your motorcycle.

You rev the engine a couple of times before zooming out of the parking lot with a loud roar, hoping that you can make it to Devil May Cry before closing time.

(A few hours later…)

Another day spent doing absolutely nothing, Dante thought drolly as he rereads yet another dirty magazine while rock music blares from the jukebox.

It’s late afternoon and there is still no sign of Morrison. The phone rang a few times, but none of the callers gave a password. Dante knew that business has been slow recently, but he’s going to die of sheer boredom at this rate! He leans back in his chair and props his feet up on his desk, not really ogling the half-naked ladies in the magazine as his mind wanders through less vulgar musings.

Dante’s life has taken one hell of a U-turn for the better ever since getting back from hell with his brother in tow and having a very awkward but needed conversation with Nero. Just the fact that he even has a nephew still makes him shake his head in wonder, and having Vergil back to being his old cranky self…it all seems too good to be true. But a few pinches every now and then, as well as some stabs from his dear brother, knocks some sense back into him and erases all doubt from his mind.

Dante has never felt more alive now that he has finally found his family. And it would truly be a shame if this tedious dry spell takes him out before he gets the chance to really enjoy it. Morrison better bring the cure to my boredom before I find it myself, he thought, absentmindedly turning a page while letting out a huge yawn.

A loud knocking echoes throughout the shop. Dante glances up from his magazine towards the entrance. Huh…that’s not Morrison, he surmises as more knocking bangs on the door. “It’s open!” he announces, not one to turn down a potential client coming to him directly. He tosses aside the dirty magazine as the door swings open to reveal an attractive woman entering the shop.

Dante’s brow quirks in curiosity as you look around with mild interest. “Well, well…what’s a pretty lady like you doing here?” he asks nonchalantly while his keen eyes roam up and down your form, already spotting the concealed gun holstered inside your riding jacket.

“I’m looking for the owner of this shop,” you inform in a calm and even voice while slowly approaching the landing area of his office. “Is that you?”

Dante smirks mischievously. “That depends on who’s asking, babe.”

“Don’t call me babe.”

Your stern voice startles him for a moment as you step up to the landing and pause by the edge of the carpet under his desk. You’re close enough now for him to get a better look at you; confident stance, sharp eyes, and a stoic face that could rival his brother’s stony expression. And yet it still captures his full attention despite your cold reception of his playful retort.

“The name’s Dante,” he introduces himself as your head swivels around, taking in every detail of his office as you walk around his desk. “And if you’re looking for the bathroom…it’s in the back.” Dante motions with his head as you get closer to the couch, which gives him an opportunity to check you out from behind. His eyes linger up your slender legs and the curve of your ass…but then he does a bit of a double take when he notices a knife hidden in one of your boots.

“Legendary Devil Hunter, Son of Sparda…and the embodiment of sloth apparently,” you muse aloud, stoic shell cracking a little as your lips curl into a grimace while examining the copious piles of trash strewn all over the floor.

Dante crosses his arms with a shrug. “I see my reputation still precedes me,” he quips back cheekily as your gaze turns towards the small bar in the corner.

“Please tell me that hasn’t just been hanging there rotting since the Red Grave incident,” you mutter in disbelief while pointing at the Empusa nailed to the wall with numerous swords and one small dart.

“What does a babe like you know about Red Grave?” he inquires casually while his eyes narrow suspiciously.

A subtle spark of anger lights up your eyes. “Stop calling me babe.”

Dante slides his feet to the floor before leaning over on his desk. “How about you give me the pleasure of your name and maybe I’ll call ya by something more your style,” he offers with a wink, hoping to rekindle that spark of yours with his flirty banter.

Your smoldering eyes squint hard at him for a moment, the fierce spark now glittering as you reach inside your riding jacket. “Detective Y/N of the Red Grave City P.D.” You take out your badge and flip it open to show him your photo I.D. as you move close to his desk. “And if you call me anything but Detective…I’ll show you why some of the boys down at the station call me Ice Bitch,” you warn with a low growl filled with simmering anger.

“Ice Bitch, huh?” Dante repeats while giving the badge a quick glance so that he doesn’t miss the show when the sparks start flying. “I dunno…you sound pretty fiery to me.”

Dante watches with fascination as your eyes burst with searing heat, but your entire face remains completely composed. It’s not exactly the kind of show he was hoping for, but there is still time to figure out what really lights your fire so long as you are here. There’s just something about you that begs him to stoke the flames flickering in your eyes…maybe it’s the way you carry yourself with utmost confidence around the shop despite the infamy around his name and reputation. Or it could be that fiery spirit hidden beneath your frosty exterior…all he knows for certain is this:

He’s gotta have more.

“So, what does the fuzz down at Red Grave want with a guy like me?” he asks, relaxing back into his chair with an amused grin, detecting another knife hidden up your sleeve as you put away your badge. “Wait, wait…lemme guess: you’re here to arrest me for being too damn good lookin’,” he jests, arching his brow while stroking his chin in a dashing manner.

“Last time I checked, it wasn’t illegal to have a scruffy beard and unkempt hair,” you retort smoothly while straightening out your jacket. “I’m here to request any insights you have about demons.”

“Well, you definitely came to the right place,” he boasts, dramatically waving his hands around the shop before tilting his head inquisitively. “Is this for a case?”

You raise a well-trimmed brow in surprise. “You catch on quickly…yes, it’s for a case,” you confirm, resting one hand on your hip while the other hangs down by yet another knife in your pants pocket. “We need to determine if demons are involved in a series of disappearances and murders.” You pause for a moment, blinking your eyes once as you tilt your head in thought. “There’s also the possibility of a Devil Arm being involved as well. And if either of those are true…” You trail off with a weary sigh before finishing your explanation. “Maybe we can team up and work on this case together.”

Dante kicks one foot up to rest atop his knee. “It sounds like you already know a lot more than your average cop,” he notes while his brow twitches with interest at your proposal.

“When you live in a place like Red Grave, you learn to pick up on a few things…” The spark in your eyes dims down while a haunted look flashes across your impassive face. “Never know when it might save your life,” you quickly explain, crossing your arms as your expression hardens, but the dull ember of your eyes glimmer softly.

Now that’s a look I know very well, Dante admits silently, having seen the very definition of anguish staring back at him in the mirror for years. “Alright, you wanna know more about demons…why come to me? I know for a fact that there are plenty of mercenaries in your area,” he points out with an exaggerated twirl of his finger.

“Because you’re the best of the best, Mr. Dante.”

This isn’t the first time that Dante has heard those exact same words. His usual response is to just laugh it off and comment about hearing it all before…but this time it’s different. The absolute certainty evident in your voice sends a chill down his spine. And the spark in your eyes is roaring with the flame of total conviction as you seemingly stare straight into his devilish soul.

“Hmm…you sure are painting a pretty interesting picture,” he imparts, fidgeting a little under your intense gaze, which makes him wonder if you’ve noticed just how tight his pants have gotten while talking with you. Not that he minds…but it seems you are more interested in business than pleasure right now. So, he brushes that notion aside and scoots his chair closer so that his arms can rest on the desk. “Look…I’m really flattered and all, but you’ve overlooked one minor detail: mercenaries and cops aren’t really known for working together.”

Dante flashes you with a toothy grin, hoping the reluctant act he’s putting on will illicit another feisty show. “Oh, I didn’t overlook it,” you reveal, quickly snuffing out his attempt at lighting the fuse with a shake of your head. “I just don’t give a damn.”

“Really?” He leans in closer over his desk as he pokes that wild temper of yours from another angle. “Didn’t know it was okay for you to break the law whenever you want and openly carry that gun just because of some fancy badge,” he provokes with a challenging smile.

Your stoic face contorts into furious scowl as the spark in your eyes ignites in searing rage. You quickly close the distance between both of you and slam your hands down on his desk, proving that he skipped lighting the fuse and just kicked the entire damn barrel into the fire! But it doesn’t bother Dante one bit as you lean in real close to his face over the desk, inflamed gaze boring into him while you launch into an explosive tirade.

“Now you listen here! I took an oath to protect and serve, and that’s exactly why I’m here now! I did not work my ass off for this badge just to waltz around with this gun! And I have no intentions of abusing that sacred trust the citizens of Red Grave have put in me!”

You pause to take a couple of deep breaths before continuing in a calmer but still irate tone. “Your expertise and experience with demons may lead to the break in case we need…and it’s what I need to uphold that oath.” The harsh scowl on your face softens as the rage in your eyes dies down to a flickering flame of hope. “I need your help, Mr. Dante…I can’t crack this case wide open and finally bring this insidious killer to justice for the families and friends of their victims without you.”

Dante stares at you in awe as your impassioned speech buzzes around him like a temperamental honeybee. He couldn’t help but to watch your lips as you unleash your fury upon him…wondering if your kiss would be just as passionate as your volatile rage. And you are so close now, waiting for his response as you loom over his desk like an unmoving statue. But your intoxicating scent ensnares his senses while an all too familiar presence awakens inside him. His heart beats faster as blood rushes straight down his groin, forcing him to subtly readjust himself under the desk while the devil within purrs beneath his skin.

The door behind you suddenly swings open before he can come up with some clever one liner about enjoying the show. Morrison strolls on in and effectively pulls both of you out of the intense moment as he starts talking. “Hey Dante! Word on the street is that a detective from Red Grave City has been snooping around and…Oh!” He stops in his tracks when he finally notices you. “Looks like you’ve arrived before the rumors, Detective,” he notes smoothly while lighting up a cigar.

“I’m a firm believer of getting the whole picture before putting my pencil to paper, Mr. Morrison,” you divulge coolly without tearing your fierce gaze away from Dante’s stunned face. The corners of your mouth twitch into a fleeting smirk as you straighten up your posture while backing up from his desk. “I’ll be in the city for a couple more hours. You can find me at the Simmer Down Diner if you change your mind…and if you don’t come around, I’ll just assume that your answer is no.”

You turn and step down the landing before walking past Morrison towards the entryway. Dante’s eyes follow your every move, hypnotized by your swaying hips and confident stride as you reach for the door. “But make no mistake, Mr. Dante,” you murmur, grasping the handle as you turn to look over your shoulder. “There’s a serial killer on the loose and I intend to catch them with or without your help.” Your eyes sparkle with determination with those final words as you open the door and exit the shop.

“Did I hear her right?” Morrison questions, puffing on his cigar as he walks across the shop towards the couch. “She wants your help catching a serial killer?”

Dante keeps his eyes on the door as he nods. “Yep. Seems so.”

“Huh…that’s something you don’t see every day.” Morrison takes a seat on the couch and flicks his cigar over a nearby ashtray. “What’d she offer you in return?”

“We didn’t get that far when you busted on through the front doors.”

Morrison puffs on his cigar in quiet contemplation for a moment before cracking a knowing smile. “You’re thinkin’ about following after her, aren’t ya?”

Dante finally turns away from the door towards his dear friend. “What makes you say that?” he inquires, casually leaning back in his chair while Morrison shakes his head with a soft chuckle.

“You never could resist a beautiful lady asking for help. Even when all they brought was trouble…you still hear them out and almost always take whatever bait they dangle in front of ya.”

Dante shrugs at his friend’s logic while pondering about possibilities of working with a detective. On one hand, he’d have to play nice with the police and not break too many laws if he agrees to help you. But on the other hand, he gets to hang out with a smokin’ hot detective with one helluva temper. And if he takes up your offer…his heart throbs while the devil in him purrs at the thought of reigniting the flame in your eyes and seeing more of this sizzling chemistry between the two of you.

“You know me too well, Morrison,” he discloses with a puckish grin. “I’ll let ya know if I take the bait this time.”

Morrison waves his cigar in the air as if to say told ya so as he gets out of his chair with a small flourish. He recalls the restaurant you mentioned as he steps out the shop, knowing it to be one of many greasy spoons in this area of the city. His hands are practically shaking with anticipation as he summons Cavaliere while a blur of different emotions swirl around in his head. If you can get this kind of reaction out of him already, then he’s gotta see where this may lead because honestly…he’s never met a girl like you before.

And now that he’s had a taste…he wants so much more.

Read Chapter 4

My Ao3

My Masterlist if you want more 💖

Tagging: @bettybattaglia @drusoona and @exsultry

#dante x reader #dante #devil may cry #detective reader #murder mystery #crime drama #eventual romance #the devil's in the details #FINALLY!!!#the moment we've all been waiting for...👀👀👀#hope you got your popcorn ready #the fireworks are about to begin 😏#harlot writes

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jacscorner · 3 years

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Fox McCloud of Kongo Bongo Part 3

Part two can be read here.

The rocking of the Kremling Slave ship was enough to lull any kritter to sleep. Under the blanket of the night, with the soft light of moon and stars, Kremlings could rest easy. Especially with their Kong prisoners secure in their cells. For the Kremling Krew aboard, the night was peaceful. By the morning, they'd arrive on Krokodile Island and would be rewarded handsomely by King ; both for delivering to him a competent combatant for the Fight Pit, but also cause they were escorting the freshly captured, and very beautiful Tiny Kong, who'll be yet another jewel for the king of crocodiles.

Save for Captain Kutlass.

He was a Blue Kremling; Kutlass gave a low groan as he sharpened his namesake against the whetstone as he sat at the table of his room. The Captain's Chambers had much more furnishing than the bunkers and rooms that crewmen used, and much better than the prisons the prisoners endured. The Blue Kremline were a rare subspecies of Kremling, larger than most naturally and Kutlass was a large Kremling. Muscles bulged from his body as he sat there in candlelight. Besides his candle was a small device, similar to that of a tablet that was lying beside it.

[NO TRANSMISSION]

Captain Kutlass tried to be calm, but he was anxious. He did his best to just sharpen his sword and not notice the time passing, but he felt he could hear the ticking of a clock that wasn't there. His teeth started to grind against themselves, but he lifted his sword up to examine the blade. If he sharpened it anymore, the blade would be too frail to use. He felt sweat trickle down his neck, waiting for the call to finally come.

BEEP BEEP BEEP!

Kutass nearly jumped out of his chair. His heart skipped a beat as his sword dropped to the floor. His blue scales were starting to turn pale, but the sea captain grabbed the tablet and pressed a button. The screen flashed, a green scaled crocodile was staring him in the eye, one eye bloodshot and twitchy. Kutlass could make out the golden crown and crimson cape hanging off his shoulders, but the sole, red eye was all he needed to know who he was talking to.

The leader of the Kremlings; King K. Rool.

"My liege." Kutlass managed to say, giving a bow to the crocodile on the screen. "Captain Kutlass at your service."

King K. Rool's scales were a murky green color. A wide grin began to curl onto his lips. "Good evening, Captain~" He sounded so jovial, but Kutlass knew that the mood of his king could change at the drop of a hat. "Sorry to be calling you so late. It's just that your afternoon report had me so curious. Naturally, I thought I'd like to hear about it personally."

"Naturally, my liege. Of course." Kutlass hated to grovel like this. It was beneath him; even beneath that of an Orange Kremling. But he was smart enough to swallow his pride, as opposed to swallowing his tongue. "Is this about the fox I had mentioned in my message."

"Yes, yes, that exactly." K. Rool chuckled, "you're quite the lucky Kremling, Kutlass. You capture one of the four Kong Apostles that was under my greatest enemy. You smoke out Tiny Kong and her little Kong gang rebellion. And now you're hauling to me more trinkets from the sky and captured the pilot inside. You'll retire a very rich Kremling, my friend."

"Thank you, thank you. Your praise is too much for me." Kutlass said, smiling warmly at his king. It took all of his willpower not to snap his jaws at the screen, but he endured the humiliation. "This 'gift' from the sky, however, the fox. He's a wily one. I do not think this one will be as cooperative as the last one."

"Oh, that matters very little to me." King K. Rool rolled his eyes, "whether he wants to cooperate with me or not matters so little that it's laughable. But your report, the condition of ship looked." A picture of the Arwing appeared on the screen, battered and bruised and within the haul of Kutlass' ship. "Its parts look salvageable."

"That was a ship...?" Kutlass grumbled under his breath, but K. Rool heard him.

"Never mind that!" His sudden snapping made Kutlass snap back at attention. "I don't care what happens to the fox. Feed him to Kritters! Sell him to a Fight Pit! Eat him if you want. But that flying ship; if it's not delivered to my castle personally along with Tiny Kong and Dread Kong, you'll be working in a factory with the Kongs!"

Kutlass dryly swallowed the lump in his throat. The King of Kremlings was still knots away, but he felt as though he was right in front of him, with a clawed hand around his neck.

"Am I clear?"

"W-what?"

"I said 'am I clear', Kutlass?!"

His scales were turning white like a sheet, but the Kremling managed to nod his head. "C-crystal clear, sir!"

"That's good, that's good." K. Rool grew a new smirk on his face, a low chuckle flying from the back of his throat.

"Will...will that be all?" Kutlass asked. He waited anxiously for K. Rool to answer when the ship violently started to shake.

BOOM! BOOM! BANG!

"What was that?!" K. Rool demanded as Kutlass felt his heart bang against his ribs.

"Uh, let me get back to you, sir!" Kutlass hurried to say as he picked his sword up off of the ground. "Y-you know how it is. Duty calls!"

"Kutlass! Answer-"

Against his better judgement, Kutlass had shut off the tablet. King K. Rool was going to chew him out, but that was nothing when compared to the current crisis that was apparently happening right under his nose! Kutlass stormed to the door and forced it open, just in time to see his seamen dashing down the hall past his quarters. Once he saw an Orange Kremling darting by, the large Kremling grabbed him by the throat and lifted the scrawny croc up to his snout.

"What's the meaning of this?!"

"Th-the prisoners." The Kremling managed to choke out as he was literally being choked out.

"Tell me something I don't know!"

"N-no, Captain! Th-they've escaped! I-it's a mutiny!"

Kutlass stared blankly at the Orange Kremling, stunned into silence when he heard that final word. 'Mutiny'. It echoed in his head again and again. He dropped the Kremling onto the wooden floor before giving a loud shriek, piercing the heavens above the ship's roof. "Mutiny?! MUTINY?!"

With cutlass in hand, the sea captain darted through the halls of the lower deck. This couldn't be happening; he told himself that this was just some kind of prank being pulled by his crew. He was swearing to every form of creation that when he reached the top deck, someone was getting the nine-tails! But as he got closer to the deck, he could definitely here that something was happening. Raygun firing and sword clashing was echoing through the ship. Now Kutlass was horrified; was it really a prison revolt?! He was so close to Krokodile Island; K. Rool would have his scales if he sailed up to shore and told him that his prizes had escaped!

Giving a loud kick, he forced his way onto the top deck. His eyes were wide, stunned in silence as he watched the carnage. The Kongs truly did escape their cages! Large Apes were barreling into their Kong oppressors, snatching the rayguns and swords off their downed enemies and promptly using them now that they were armed! Monkeys climbed the ropes and mast, a raygun in each of their hand-like feet as they rained laser fire from above. Swordfights between startled Kremlings and readied Kongs ended when the Kongs disarmed their reptile opponent and ran their razor through their torso.

His eyes were flashing with crimson as he looked at the display. He growled, taking his sword and racing into the fray. The captain made an executive decision as he took his blade and ran it through the spine of a Kong as his scream broke through the crowd like thunder. The first thing on his mind; find Tiny Kong or Dread Kong. He was sure that one of them had sparked this rebellion! The Kremling was sure that if they were dead, then the Kongs would lose their morale! K. Rool would be aggravated at him for not bringing such trophies alive, but at least them being dead would be better than them escaping!

A Kong noticed Kutlass, pointing a raygun at him, but the Kremling captain was quick and able to cut the Kong's hand right off by the wrist. Crimson flashed against his eyes as the hand went flying into the air. Kutlass watched it rise and fall as the crocodile swordsman looked and saw it fall along with the ape that owned it.

Then, he saw her.

Tiny Kong had just cut down a Kremling with her own sword, panting heavily under the red moonlight, blocking another attempt at her life from a Kremling's sword. Sparks were flashing in front of her, but Kutlass couldn't see anything else but her. The noise around him had turned silent. His grimace had turned more sour as he bared fangs, containing his roar and keeping it down to a muffled growl.

He moved swiftly and without hesitation. Dashing for Tiny Kong with his sword ready, prepared to swing it from on high and cut her head right off. He was seeing visions of seeing Tiny's head drop onto the floor boards and roll away like a coconut, but his dreams of grandeur were stopped when a loud 'BANG' cut through the silence of his little world.

A raygun shot! It was fired right at his feet and forced him to back away to evade. Recovering his breath, he looked to where he was sure the shot came from, but didn't see anyone even look at him. Did he imagine it among the chaos? The thought crossed his mind, but then, he looked up. Kutlass watched as he saw the fox from this morning begin to swing down from the mast, raygun in one hand as he continued to fire shots at the Kremling.

Kutlass roared as he backed away, bringing up his namesake and deflected another shot. But then, another blast of hot energy hit his hand. He shouted as he felt his scales boil and he dropped his burning sword. It landed and clanged into the floor boards before the fox dropped from above and landed the sole of his metal foot right in the captain's chest. He lost the air from his lungs as he was knocked onto the floor of the deck.

Landing on the deck of the ship, the fox pointed his raygun at the downed Kremling. He looked at the smirk on the tod's face, which made the Kremling's blood boil. He was starting to see red as this stranger from the sky casually walked over to the downed captain.

"Allow me to introduce myself properly." He spoke, tightening his grip on his raygun. It was hard to hold it; clearly, it was made for hands much bigger than his own. It was bulky, looking like a flintlock pistol that modified and had a tesla tube on its side. For a Kremling, this was a handgun that one would quickly pull out of a holster, similar to his blaster. But for Fox, it was a hand-cannon that was had to get used to carrying around.

"My name is Fox McCloud. And now, you have two options." Fox kept his finger on the trigger as he stared Kutlass down. "Call off your men and surrender your ship. I'm sure you can see that you're losing, so give up now and I'll see to it your life is spared."

"Never!"

With a sudden scream that caught Fox a bit off guard, Kutlass grabbed the sword out of a dead Kremling's hand and threw it at Fox. Taken aback, Fox barely had the time to dodge as his heavy raygun was knocked right out of his hand. It went flying across the ship's deck. Fox wanted to run for it, but Kutlass had already grabbed another sword from his fallen comrade and decided to take out his anger on the vulpine pilot; hopping to his feet, he made another mad dash, but now had his sword prepared to cut Fox to ribbons. K. Rool be damned, he'd be getting this fox in pieces!

Fox, however, was quick and nimble. Kutlass' wide swing cut nothing but air as Fox ducked under the blade. He swiftly did a backflip to avoid another cut of the blade's edge. He landed next town a downed Kong, bleeding profusely as he gave a weak grunt.

"Take...please..." The Kong said weakly, holding up his arm and handing Fox his sword. Fox glanced at the dying Kong, nodding before he took the sword from his limp grip, all while Kutlass was racing after him like an angry bull.

CLANG!

With his knowledge of swordfighting being nonexistent, Fox was forced to imitate what he had been seeing for the last few hours. And with the flurry of sparks and blood, it wasn't much, but he managed to parry the incoming swings of the relentless Captain Kutlass, evading any other swift swings but whiskers on his face. Heart racing, Fox managed to steal the air for him to breath as he continued to evade the best he could. He'd feel himself lose his breath as he watched his jacket get cut up by the cutlass. Every step had to be precise or he'd be losing more than just a piece of cloth, but each swing got closer and closer to turning his green suit red; or, at least, what was left as Kutlass continued to tear it to ribbons.

"Hold still, damn you!" Kutlass shouted as Fox continued to back away. With each swing missed, Fox began to get used to the weight of the sword. As Fox stopped another blow from running scarlet, Fox was starting to tighten his wide arm swings. Learning how to fight with a sword on the spot was something Fox never thought he'd have to do, but he was always a quick study.

Nimbly hopping away from another swing, Fox landed on the railing of the ship. He was short of breath, but so was Kutlass. He was snarling and growling as he pulled his arm back for another wide swing. He roared as he swung again.

CLING!

Instead of meeting Fox's blade, he used his metallic leg to block the incoming attack. Kutlass tried to bring back his arm, but Fox was already swinging his arm down. Blood flew from the Kremling's shoulder blade as he gave a painful howl. He stumbled back, choking on his own screams as Fox jumped right for the crocodile and swung himself, delivering a heavy roundhouse kick to Kutlass' neck. Fox landed on his feet as he watched the Kremling's eyes roll behind his skull as he started to fall onto the floor of the deck.

THUD!

Fox panted, his ears ringing. He was sure Kutlass had him dead to rights, but he survived. He got ready to get back into the fray of the battlefield, but noticed that the fighting had turned silent. The vulpine looked around and saw that all eyes were on him. Kremling and Kong alike seemed astonished by the act of Fox having successfully bested Kutlass in a swordfight. The tension was so thick that Fox could cut it with a sword.

Taking advantage of the silence, Tiny Kong's voice erupted through the night. "If you Kremlings don't wanna end up like your captain, then drop your weapons!" Fox was left to watch as the various Kremlings began to follow Tiny Kong's demands. Fox couldn't help but feel a bit awkward; a feeling he hadn't felt for such a long time. He was being used as a threat; something that, admittedly, should've been something he was used to. General Pepper had no qualms stopping terrorist attempts with the hanging threat of calling the Star Fox Team.

There was just something about how he alien he felt. On Corneria, there were all sorts of people. Fox might not see, well, another fox for days or weeks at a time, but he knew they existed. And when your team consists of a robot and various representatives of the animal kingdom, it didn't matter if he was the lone fox of the group when Peppy was the lone hare or Fay the lone dog. But among these cheering simians and crestfallen crocodiles, he felt more like an outside, more like a merc, than he ever did in space.

But, at least for now, he could rest easy in knowing that the battle was over. The ship was there's and the Kremlings were now taken hostage. Fox was sure that the 'mission' wasn't finished, but the Pilot-Turned-Commando was just happy that he survived through the night in one piece.

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