#punctuated by shovel-blows to the head
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Tabled 3
Hello yet again, @barbarawar ! I swear I’m not dragging this @b-and-w-holiday-gift-exchange out on purpose—the thing is, I always think, “This will be the time I make these loons get it together with reasonable speed,” but I’m (almost) always wrong. This third part follows part 1, in which Myka met Helena for that Boone-mentioned coffee and suffered its consequences, and part 2, in which more coffee caused her to suffer more consequences, leading her to decided that the only way to mitigate the suffering was to cut Helena out of her life, choosing to do so on a busy concourse in Chicago’s O’Hare Airport. Helena for some reason (tragicomedy?) responded to this idea by dousing Myka in coffee.
Anyway, this third part will in turn be followed by at least one more part, because god forbid they work anything out unwordily. (In semi-positive news, I don’t think this will extend to the seven-part opus I inflicted on my poor giftee last year.) (However: I should acknowledge also that, unlike the book Myka consults in this story, I can’t predict the future.)
Tabled 3
Myka’s head tilts down again, involuntarily, to behold her now coffee-stained shirt. Just as involuntarily, she then raises her head, and, yes, Helena’s still looking like she’s proud of herself. Proud and calm and at peace. Myka voices the bafflement in her head: “You... what did you do?”
Helena’s expression doesn’t change. “Isn’t it obvious?”
Obvious? Yes? “You threw your coffee at me?” Obvious but incomprehensible? “You threw your coffee at me... on purpose?”
“Yes,” Helena says, like it’s an accomplishment. “I can do that. I’m not a hologram.”
That’s true, and... good? Important? But... “But you ruined my shirt,” Myka says, which is objectively a fact. Even though the fact makes no sense.
Helena offers a tiny shrug. “So take it off.”
At that, Myka hardens: You don’t get to say things like that to me! she wants to yell. She settles for demanding, “Are you insane?” As the words leave her, she feels their carelessness. But they had come in response to the extremity of the situation, and that was all Helena’s doing. Your fault not mine, Myka thinks, in mulish self-defense.
Instead of objecting, Helena blinks a slow, condescending blink—a blink of I know you know better—and says, “The answer to that question depends entirely upon whom you ask.”
Nobody better ask me. Not right now. Reassembling her outrage, vowing not to fall victim to any impulse to protect Helena (from careless words or herself or anything else), Myka sputters, “I have to get back on a plane!”
Helena gestures, lazily, at the disaster she caused. “In that ruined shirt?” she says, now with a tsk-tsk, as if Myka is the one whose actions are inexplicable, given that they’ve landed her in this unfortunate situation.
“I loved this shirt,” Myka says, and it’s an embarrassingly, tellingly true statement... why did she let it escape? She’s wearing the shirt because of that love, which she feels because it enhances the green of her eyes in a very particular way, a way she has all along admitted to herself she’s hoped Helena would notice: notice and... maybe... regret the loss of.
But choosing to wear it was, she sees, yet another blunder, because of course she’s now the one doing the regretting. Of course she is.
“Did you?” Helena says, with one of those maybe-I’m-just-vain head tosses. It displays her neck. It’s probably intended to display her neck. “More so now.” She follows that with the challenge of a trickster eyebrow-lift.
Myka wants to strangle her, for all the reasons but mostly because she isn’t wrong. Because this shirt, even if the stain washes out, will always now be this shirt. Particularly if the stain washes out: if Myka wears this shirt, or even considers wearing it, on some eventual, otherwise unremarkable day, the this shirt of it will occupy her thoughts.
Hey book, she thinks in the direction of South Dakota. Look at me, predicting a future I didn’t see before today.
Calmly, now, she gazes at that future. She can live with this unspooling, because being reminded of Helena, having to process nostalgia, is something she knows how to handle. So many things in the course of a normal day spark a similar memory walk, and she imagines—no, she sees—that they always will.
That retrieval will always be that retrieval—matteringly large. That aisle will always be that aisle, a place of unfinal goodbye. Quietly, in the kitchen, that tea will always be that tea. Et cetera.
This airport, in fact, will now always be this airport.
This shirt will always be this shirt.
She looks down again; the coffee has fully reached her skin, and the entire scene—the increasing damp chill, combined with the initial splash as well as Helena’s words and face and neck and this familiarly angry need to put hands around that neck—it’s awakened her. And it’s awakened them, or Myka’s sense of them, the two of them together, that perfect entity: Wells and Bering, Bering and Wells...
Myka picks up her (surprisingly) unempty cup from the table and removes its lid. She then lifts her eyes to, and her own eyebrow at, Helena, who smirks. Myka tightens, brightens, and she flings her remaining coffee at the pristine, creamy expanse of sweater, surely cashmere, adorning the perfect body across from her. An uncanny joy floods her as the liquid hits—as a stain blooms, marring what was previously flawless. As, even better, Helena’s smirk enlarges into a smile.
But the moment has no chance to resolve, for they’re interrupted: Myka hears a throat-clear from behind her. Helena widens her eyes, then rolls them like some adolescent book-artifact. Myka, unclear on what that reaction says about who the intruder is, turns herself around... ah. An authority figure. A woman whose badge and uniform identify her as airport security.
“Ladies,” that authority says, tired and resigned, as if that Myka and Helena’s little coffee assaults barely even rank for her as inappropriate behavior but she supposes she’d better intervene before some overvigilant busybody attacks her for not doing what they see as her job.
“I’m sorry,” Myka starts, but that’s a knee-jerk remnant of table-lying. Or, no: hiding. In any case, she’s not sorry. Not at all. She closes her mouth.
“Ladies,” the careworn agent says again. “This is not the way.”
Not what Myka expected to hear. She swallows a laugh at how the words sound like advice from a parallel universe—one in which she and Helena are in couples therapy. The laugh tastes of regret.
Helena shakes her head. She says, with seriousness, as if the agent’s words were what she expected to hear (as if that parallel universe were this one): “I assure you, this is the way.”
And Myka can’t help but confirm, as she suspects she would in that other universe as well, “The only way.”
To that, Helena offers a beautiful, open affirmation: a soft-eyed, beneficent nod.
Wells and Bering. Bering and Wells.
The agent gives them her own eyebrow—pretty effective as chastisement, as far as Myka’s concerned—then makes them show her both their cups, ascertaining their emptiness. She says, again, “Ladies,” cautionary but also long-suffering, like she’s seen this exact scenario play out too many times. Myka finds her jaded view comforting: she and Helena aren’t singular. This isn’t once-in-a-lifetime; it’s over and over in everybody’s lifetimes.
The agent takes her leave, but she stations herself only a gate and a half away, communicating quite clearly that Myka and Helena—Wells and Bering, Bering and Wells—can’t be trusted.
Well. That’s certainly true.
Focused on each other again, they breathe and look for a little. The respite is heavenly. Myka stands in her coffee-spoiled shirt, looking at Helena in her similarly marred sweater. It’s the least complicated span of time she’s enjoyed in months. No: years. She is regarding someone, a non-hologram someone, she wants to regard, at momentary peace, with the next moment (at the very least, the next moment) undetermined.
“I’m so very relieved to have passed inspection,” Helena eventually says, breaking it.
The fracture threatens to let the complications back in, but Myka resists. “You know she’ll be watching to make sure we don’t go back to Starbucks for refills. Or even to a water fountain.”
Helena smiles. Myka feels no need, in that moment, to spare a thought for what the renewed winch of circumstance will bring. Their accord, in that moment, is full. It’s them.
Them, full, beautiful, but it’s not for keeping. This is one last hurrah of their beautiful connection—and it does warm her that Helena would take such drastic, security-attracting action to resurrect the feeling, to call it back into being, as this coda.
That’s all it is, though, for there is Giselle. And there is Pete.
Myka looks, one more time, down at her shirt: ruined. Up at Helena’s sweater: ruined too. Then she says it aloud, what she knows, in the wake of all the destruction: “It’s the end.” Then, because they might as well rule the day, she lists the proximate reasons: “There’s Giselle, and there’s Pete.”
“No there isn’t,” Helena says, enviably serene.
Also obstinate. Myka supposes she should have expected that. “Yes there is. I won’t tell you again.”
Helena’s eyeroll now is no less exaggerated than the one she produced in response to the agent. “Won’t you? Thank god for that. However, my disbelief regarding ‘you and Pete’ aside, my meaning is that there is no Giselle.”
Hope is a muscle, according to cliché. If that’s true, Myka’s will one day blessedly atrophy, for it will no longer be subjected to Helena saying things that make it expand. “You broke up?” she asks, unable to control a traitorous tremor.
Helena purses her lips. It’s distracting. “I should say yes,” she offers.
What does that mean? As Myka wonders, she watches Helena fidget: she has her cup in her hand again, and she’s picking at the label, which refuses to come free. Myka waits out the struggle, until Helena finally abandons the task and says, “I should, but I’m newly committed to pursuing a policy of truth. And the truth is, there is no Giselle. There never was.”
An involuntary “what” escapes Myka’s mouth. It isn’t really a word; rather, it’s her placeholder when she has no coherent response to... anything.
“I made her up,” Helena adds, unhelpfully.
“What,” Myka says again, low and quiet, and this time it’s holding the place of—holding her back from—a scream.
“In that coffeeshop in South Dakota,” Helena says.
Myka registers that she’s touching her wet shirt, wrapping her arms around it, seeking protection from... this. She removes her arms and thinks herself down: What is a rational response? She turns to a nitpick. “That’s... when. When you made her up.”
“Yes,” Helena says.
“But why. Why.” Myka’s arms want to move again, and she doesn’t stop them. They press her shirt cold against her. Cold, so cold.
Helena delivers yet another infuriating shrug as she says, “You wouldn’t connect.”
“I wouldn’t connect.” Nightmare, nightmare. Myka is slogging through a cold, wet nightmare: the dream-logic of it, of Helena saying that Myka did what Helena actually did, makes that so, so obvious. But obvious also is that it isn’t a dream; Myka is awake and confused and if she could just go to sleep maybe everything would be put back where it belongs, but probably not, because her shirt is coffee-sticky and she is tripping, falling, drowning, all these but awake, awake and still stupidly willing to partake of hope, that drug she will never, ever be able to kick.
“I said there was someone else,” Helena says, schoolmarm-severe.
How dare she. “I know. I was there.”
Helena does dare: she dares to look wounded. “Yes, you were. And yet you weren’t, in that you so obviously, so coldly, refused to entertain the possibility that ‘someone else’ might be you. Given that, I had to protect myself.”
Myka had thought it a nightmare only seconds ago—she’d had no idea how much worse it could get. She can’t in any way process that “might be you,” and certainly not followed by the “given that.” The consequences. She can’t. She forces out, irrelevantly, “So you made up your ‘new’ girlfriend right on the spot?”
“Yes. I suppose I took some perverse pride in being able to do so.”
Of course she did. It’s exhausting. “On the spot, you made up someone named Giselle?” Myka is offended by how... believable this is. How if this thing had happened—as apparently it had—this was its necessarily, entirely credible form.
“What?” Helena says, in that familiar there is no reasonable basis for your skepticism tone. “It’s a name.”
“But that’s the name you came up with?” Myka pushes, knowing she’s pushing—seizing on it as exemplifying the absurdity, as if by forcing Helena to make sense of that, she can make everything else fall into place.
Helena’s slight hand-wave isn’t a shrug, but it’s even more infuriating in its dismissiveness. “On the flight to South Dakota I may have read an article about the ballet.”
That’s “making sense,” in a very Helena way, but it sure doesn’t help. “Thanks, ballet,” Myka snarks.
“Does the name matter so much?”
“I told it to people.” And the people she told it to remembered it, because it was memorable. She’d been subjected more than once to Pete “joking” about Helena and her fancy French girlfriend. It had been awful.
“To people at the Warehouse,” Helena guesses. Presses.
Myka isn’t prepared to acknowledge that pain, not here, not now. “To my sister,” she says, because that is true, and, thank god, less painful.
“You told the name of my supposed girlfriend to your sister,” says Helena, not as a question, but with wonder.
Myka had. In a vague “someone I know” sense, in the context of supporting a contention that it was just fine for people to love who they love, and Tracy had been thrilled to connect it to ballet, so obviously everything was a stupid circle. “What does that matter?” she demands, though she has no right to be so defensive; she brought up that telling. Why had she? As a way of pushing the case for Helena’s wrongness in being so misleading... but Myka is now exposed as being overly invested in speaking about Helena... which she is, but... this is all going completely wrong again.
“You spoke of me outside the Warehouse.” Still with that tinge of wonder.
Myka has no way to counter that. Helena’s right about its significance. Myka sometimes finds herself desperate to speak of Helena, simply to savor the saying of her name, and when Steve or Claudia isn’t available or willing to indulge her, she calls Tracy. She tries a shuffle to the side: “I thought it was important. To you, I mean.” That’s a feint. “And I tell my sister about important things.”
“Such as your relationship with Pete?” That’s a taunt. Helena’s the one pushing now.
Myka wishes she could yield.... fall over, soft and easy, and let Helena win. Instead, what emerges from her mouth is an unhelpfully true “Not yet.” Helena smiles, and it’s mean, so Myka follows up with, “At least she’ll believe me when I do. She’s been on that team for a long time.” Now Helena squints. “The ‘men and women can’t be friends’ team,” Myka explains. “You know.”
“I don’t know,” Helena says.
History. Helena has offered a similar deadpan response, with that same dry emphasis on the “don’t,” just about every time Myka has said “you know” like this to her, and Myka used to find it charming. But she doesn’t want to start remembering patterns. Falling back into them. Not when she knows she’ll have to break them again. So she treats Helena’s objection as entirely literal, saying a pedantic, “Men and women can’t be friends without romance getting in the way.”
Helena literally turns up her nose as she says, “The grounds upon which to object to such an asinine generalization are many and varied.” Her upper lip then drifts in the direction of a sneer. “But you know that perfectly well. You know also that it doesn’t apply to you and Pete.”
“It does,” Myka says. It sounds pathetically petulant: an adolescent’s objection to a more-mature figure’s knowing judgment. Great. Now she’s the one aping the artifact-book.
“It does not. You are friends.”
“And then romance—”
“Got in the way? No.”
“Yes.” Myka hears herself say the word, knows it is yet more artifact-book puerility.
“Got in the way? No,” Helena says again, as if repetition is all that’s needed to cancel out Myka’s objection. Myka tries not to concede, even internally, that that might be true. “Occurred at all? No to that as well.”
“Yes it did! Stop making me say it!” Why can’t she just let this be? Myka let her be, back in Boone.
“If it had in fact occurred, you would be delighted to say it!”
That’s so true that Myka desperately wishes she could throw more coffee, or something heavier and more damaging, to get Helena to shut up. “Stop it!” she shouts, knowing that those words have no weight, that they won’t damage.
Surprisingly, Helena does stop it, and the pause rings in Myka’s ears, making her aware of how loud their voices have become. She dares a look around: passersby don’t seem to care, but the agent has turned to look at them disapprovingly again; she’s shifting her weight from foot to foot, most likely preparatory to drifting with intent in their direction.
Helena copies Myka’s gaze, then grimaces. “I don’t wish to be placed under arrest,” she says.
“I don’t think she’d do that. Maybe she can mediate.” The alternate-universe-couples-therapy theory certainly suggests that’s within the realm of possibility.
“I don’t wish to share our discussion with her either.”
Myka knows she shouldn’t ask what seems obvious. Knows, knows, knows. But she asks anyway. “What do you wish?”
Helena inhales and exhales, once and then twice, her shoulders and chest rising and falling, rising and falling—clearly she’s considering, and abandoning, a series of possible responses.
At last, she produces words: “To continue to speak together.”
Myka’s plane doesn’t board for another hour and a half. She can grant this wish. She says, “If we can just keep the noise level down—”
“In private,” Helena says.
“We’re in an airport.” Myka spends so much time in airports. They are so unprivate.
Helena swivels her neck around, as if seeking to confirm Myka’s statement for herself, then focuses on Myka again. She holds that focus, for one beat then two, and this time she obviously already has an answer in mind; she’s trying to pique Myka’s curiosity. Of course it’s working. If Myka could put her hands on that neck and be assured of forcing words from that intentionally withholding mouth, she’d do it.
But she stills her wishing hands, and at last, Helena relents. “An airport, yes,” she says. “But one that houses a hotel.”
Which brings Myka up short. It also opens a chasm. She entertains, for one morally evacuated second, the idea of being in a hotel room with Helena—and, worse, of doing what people do in hotel rooms with Helena. Then she snaps her spine back into place and says, “Absolutely not.”
“For privacy,” Helena says. “Nothing more. I swear it.”
Myka knows what being manipulated by Helena feels like. This... isn’t that. Or at least, it isn’t a “doing what people do in hotel rooms” sort of that. “Privacy,” she echoes.
“Do you dispute the notion that we have more to say to each other?”
In so many parts of the past, Myka’s answer to that would have been an immediate “no.” Now, she pretends she has to think about it—but Helena most likely knows it’s a pointless pretense. Myka gives up and says “no” out loud.
“And would it not be better, in saying that more, to say it freely?”
The answer to that is less clear-cut, despite what Myka would love to believe is sincerity in Helena’s eyes and voice. She would love to believe it. So much... so does that mean she should say no?
As she thinks about it, however, this has all the hallmarks of being another blunder. As foretold by the book. And really, who is she to think she knows better than a predictive artifact?
“Okay,” she says. “Hotel.”
TBC
#bering and wells#Warehouse 13#fanfic#Tabled#B&W holiday gift exchange#part 3#barbarawar#one B&W-interaction possibility of which the show cruelly deprived us#intentionally or otherwise#was how they might have behaved together in actual privacy#(I mean this mostly in a nonprurient sense)#I don't believe we ever witnessed that#(vaguely in Vendetta but not really)#(vaguely in Buried but not really)#although I could be misremembering#as the show itself has for me over time resolved into a series of peaks of beauty#punctuated by shovel-blows to the head#or maybe it's the other way around#anyway I'm saying my mental files are kind of corrupted
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Showtime Idea! Banquet of Queens (Requires all female Thieves to be at Max Confidant Rank and on the frontline party): The five female thieves are sat around a circular table at least 70 feet in diameter, with napkins tucked into their collars and ludicrously curvaceous forms sat upon gleaming golden thrones. Suddenly the entire room is lit up and reveals a sight that had even the ever composed Queen drooling like an animal.
A feast laid before them, with hundreds of dishes spread out and practically gleaming in the light and each morsel a meal and a half in its own right. Freshly baked donuts the size of life preservers and meter-long hot dogs with all manner of condiment on them lay steaming next to thigh thick gyoza and boulder-sized ice cream bowls. And of course the centerpiece, a cake that very nearly scraped the ceiling with whatever poor sod of a Shadow they faced down being smack dab in the center of it, no part of it visible save it's head from the very top of the cake. It was enough food to feed an army, for these women it was just enough.
With savage smiles they picked up their utensils and with a simple "Thank you for the meal~" from all of them, began to devour. Flashes of the feast begin to occur as they make their way to the magnum opus of their meal with each one being a more hedonistic image than the last. Noir quickly cutting into steaks the size of pillows, Panther and Violet toasting each other with bucket sized-milkshake glasses, Oracle shoveling head-sized pies in her mouth by the handful, and Queen nearly halfway into a bowl of ramen that could fill a small pool. The sounds of snapping zippers and tearing leather punctuated these images as the food piled into their bellies and from there, onto their ever thickening figures.
And finally a zoom on one finger, pushing the last bit of cake into Noir's mouth, cheeks bulging as she chewed and with an audible gulp, ended the feast. They were atop the creaking table, every plate cleaned of anything that could even resemble food and every tummy filled to capacity and then some. Show's Ov- *CRASH*
Oop, looks like the table couldn't hold the combined weight of five fat Thieves and sent all of them sprawling on the floor...and disturbed their stomachs something fierce if all the gurgling is anything to go off of. "Hohjeez! Take a deep breath girls! This is gonna be a big one!" yelled Futaba, her cheeks puffing up from the rush of air that was beginning to make it way out of her shaken tummy. Far zoom out as the girls inhale annnnd
*BWWWWWWWHHHHRRRRRHUUUUUUUUUUUUUOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRLLLLLLLPPPPPP*
A visible wave of steam rushed through the cognitive city, shattering windows and blowing away anything that wasn't bolted to the ground while the roof of their dining hall flew into the air. SHOW'S OVER (for real this time)
[I did not mean to make it this long I dunno what happened]
(No worries about the length, if it's a great idea~)
#readyplayerziggy#muse: ann takamaki#muse: makoto nijima#muse: futaba sakura#muse: haru okumura#muse: kasumi yoshizawa
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Dust .................................................................................He sat, sweat trickling down his forehead, absently peering out the lonely front window of her faded green trailer. Late afternoon sun rolled off of the dusty scraggled field across the road, low clung weed and cactus punctuating the mostly barren ground. The sky was pretty enough, though. A band of amber and briuising blood, slowly creeping across the pale summer sky. He drew a long drag of lit cigarette, reflecting on what had just happened. 'She fell weird,' he thought. But any fall might have seemed odd after their enormous struggle. 'It was her fault,' he offered, not believing himself for even a second.
"I'm so screwed." He sighed, blowing a fresh wave of wispy blue shimmer into the acrid pool of dead air, pushing deeper into the corners of the swirling abyss. She still looked so damn beautiful. The waning daylight would soon crown her strawberry blonde head with a vein of golden sunset. 'The last time her hair will ever be beautiful.' he mused. Her contorted body was the wrong side up. Her pretty, speckled face smooshed into the threshold of the impossibly tiny entryway, one step below her twisted torso and generous rump, with one bare foot caught randomly between window and curtain rod. He picked a white plastic carnation from the fallen vase next to her that he'd brought her for Valentine's Day two years prior. 'Or was it our anniversary?' he wondered. With a glistening, weary hand, he brushed back a row of hair from her face, delicately placing the stem behind her ear. 'There.' "Now you're perfect." he remarked, smiling. He bent down and kissed her cheek, whispering, "Breathtaking." into her upward, now adorned ear. 'Her favorite compliment.' He thought, proud that she was his, forever, just like he'd always said she'd be. He sat back in his seat, turning his head to the shuttered rear window, finding in his mind's eye, the old beaten shovel standing against the tool shed wall, lying in wait for a final call to action. A sad, sweet smile dripped down his cheek as he stilled his soul and waited for dark.
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Shelbys at Somme Chapter 24
Thomas X Reader
Word Count: 1629
Summary: Y/N’s got a gun and it’s time to get Thomas back.
by @adventuresintooblivion
Thomas was jolted awake by having his nose jammed against the wall in front of him. His eyes snapped open only to be welcomed by a darkness too deep. His thighs screamed while his heels jammed into his back. His shoulders protested as he twisted, or at least tried to, only to be welcomed by more blackness. Fabric rushed into his mouth as he gasped wildly for breath. Rough rope had chaffed his skin raw. It was then that he realized that he was likely in a trunk, with a bag over his head.
Then he heard the shovels. They were coming from every direction. Terror gripped his heart as he felt the wood reverberate through his back. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.
“Oye! Shelby, you in there?”
He blinked away the ghosts of Somme, attempting to banish the ghosts with them. But he didn’t get to answer before the lid ripped open. Light stabbed his eyes despite the bag over his head. Thomas didn’t need to be told twice though, he lunged for the opening. Cold hard metal connected with his shoulder.
Scrambling for balance he rolled with it, his feet barely connected with the ground before another crowbar caught him in the ribs. Dark spots exploded in his vision as he hissed through the pain. He needed this bag off his head. Now.
He flipped his head forward, hoping the momentum would send it sailing. He ignored the wind of another blow ruffling his hair, or the rough hands that gripped his arms. Thomas would be damned if he didn’t at least look his assailant in the eyes. But the moment the hood fell to the ground, he almost wished it were back on. There in front of him stood Rowan, THE enforcer for the Rothschilds, a wicked grin splitting his face.
Thomas’ heart sank. Before the war the Rothschilds were known for being swift and brutal in the take over of their part of Birmingham. Every plan had been well thought out and executed with such ferocity that it had taken the city by surprise. Now that Y/N had left, brute force was all that gang had left, and no one reveled in brute force like Rowan did.
Something cold and dark clawed at his stomach as he thought of Y/N. Could she be a part of this? It was possible she’d called in a favor or two if she actually felt insulted. Had he let it get that far out of control? While she had told him parts of her past, it was impossible for him to know everything.
Rowan’s wheezy voice interrupted his thoughts, “Oh Shelby, why do you look like a dog that’s been kicked?”
“While I’m not surprised you’re the one getting your hands dirty,” Thomas spat out the bile rising in his throat. “Mind telling me who sent you?”
Rowan barked out a laugh, “You know who’s to blame.” He looked up to address the other two men beside him. “Well boys, boss said he had to be alive on arrival. He didn’t say in what condition.” He punctuated his words with a swift kick to Thomas’ stomach.
Thomas doubled over, gasping for air. His hands frantically searched for anything sharp nearby but suddenly his vision went white. Someone had kicked the back of his head. It wasn’t until his body hit the pavement that he realized that no one could come for him, or else risk everything.
The Rothscilds were a gang twice the size of the Peaky Blinders. The Lees, having only recently aligned themselves, would probably watch them destroy each other and scavenge the pieces. It would be the smart thing to do. So, alone and grieving, he let the pain envelope him and become the bandages that kept his soul from breaking.
〜
Y/N shivered against the brisk wind, not daring to take her hands off the cold steel of her firearm. They had been patrolling around the main routes that the Rothschilds would take to get Thomas out of town and so far, theirs was the only one large enough to hold a handful of full grown men. Then, just when the anticipation was starting to get the better of her, she spotted Rowan driving a carriage identical to theirs.
She felt cold at the idea of Rowan of all people getting his hands on Thomas, but the Old Man wouldn’t have trusted anyone else with it. Y/N whistled softly to Freddie, signaling for him to follow. When John threw her a confused glance she whispered to him.
“He’s got to be in there. Our best bet of not letting them get out of the city is to break the carriage. But we have to wait until we cross the next bridge.”
“Why?”
“It’s less populated and farther from the coppers. We don’t need innocent casualties or coppers breathing down our necks. Plus it’ll take longer for reinforcements to get here.”
John nervously checked his gun. Again. “You know an awful lot about this side of town.”
Y/N sighed, “That’s a conversation for later. You ready?”
“Oh Fuck no, but we’re getting my brother back God dammit.”
Y/N smiled. She hadn’t shot a single bullet in three years and now, she needed precision. The rhythmic thunk of the bridge beneath them became the ticking of a clock as they crossed. Tick-tock says the clock. Time to shoot. Time to die.
“On my mark, John. Three. Two. One.”
Almost in unison they lifted their rifles. She had one shot that would have the opportunity to be well aimed. In the moment before the first shot rang out time seemed to slow. Y/N peered down her sight, adjusting instinctively until the prongs aligned. Her barrel was initially pointing dead center of the cabin, until she slowly released the breath she held. Between the natural sag of her shoulders and the sway of the carriage beneath her, she let it carry her until her aim landed on the axil.
The artificial peace she’d constructed shattered the moment she pulled the trigger. John’s shot hitting half a breath after hers. In that moment, both the horses and Rowan spooked. The carriage in front of them lurched forward. Y/N wasn’t sure if she’d actually hit the axil, but a small thrill ran through her as she watched the back wheels wobble. But she didn’t have time to celebrate as two men, Smalls and Randel, burst from the cabin, returning fire.
She ducked behind the lip, wood exploding where she’d just been. She stayed there only a moment before popping back out to add her few shots to the mess. She watched wood and glass shatter, torn to pieces by the whizzing metal. Y/N kept hitting the cabin, her shots too far to the left to do any good. Ducking under cover only to calm herself for a split moment. Adjusting her aim she shot at them twice more. The first hit two inches from Randel’s knee, only to have the second shred his calf. He yelped, only to lose his footing. A loud crunch filled the air as Y/N’s carriage ran over him, his cries suddenly cut off. It was then that she watched Small’s eyes grow wide.
It was only a moment of hesitation on his part, as he glanced between Rowan and Y/N, and jumped clear of the whole mess. Leaving Rowan alone to deal with Y/N her small crew. Y/N sent a small prayer of thanks to whoever was listening that Smalls recognized her. But now she had one last thing to take care of.
Without the active gun fire, John was focusing on the axle. The wheels attached to it were wobbling widely and looked like they might give at any moment. But Y/N knew what came next, after the fight, after they got Thomas back and she couldn’t have Rowan stopping her.
Her sight lined up once again with the center of the cabin. She slowly lifted her rifle until it was centered on the back of Rowan’s head. Letting the momentum carry her, she pulled the trigger and the reigns went slack. Rowan’s body tumbled off the carriage, the screams of random citizens chased them like ghosts as they pursued the now unmanned vehicle.
Suddenly the horse took a turn, attempting to hide from the gunshots down an alley. The jack knife turn snapped a back wheel off as the carriage almost upended. Wood splintered and busted as it skidded along cobblestone. The reins on the horses almost pulled the panicked animals with it, their only saving grace was a worn strap that snapped, releasing them to torment the citizens of Birmingham.
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” John was climbing out of his seat to hang off the side of the carriage. “TOMMY!”
The carriage skidded to a stop when it landed, lopsided, along a fountain. Freddie had barely tugged on the reins to slow them down before John was sprinting towards his brother. Y/N couldn’t afford such acrobatics anymore, but she’d already thrown aside her firearm. Her knuckles turned white as she got as close to the side of the seat as she could.
Freddie finally slowed them down enough she could scramble down. The Communist was already beside John, yanking open the door and shuffling through debris. Y/N’s heart beat against her ribs as she closed the final few feet between them. It wasn’t until they pulled a trunk out of the wreckage that she realized where Rowan was taking Thomas.
“Help me get this open.” John grunted as he snatched a metal rod from the ground, a crowbar. In moments he had the lid popped open. There inside was Thomas.
#thomas shelby x reader#thomas shelby imagine#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby imagine#reader insert#peaky blinders imagine
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Domestic Bliss (Part 3)
Summary: No word from Stark, so you and Bucky are left to your own devices playing husband and wife for a while
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x y/n
Word Count: 1.6k
Warnings: Language
Author’s Note: I’m really enjoying writing this story :) hope it isn’t too slow burn
---
'What are you doing?'
You jumped out of your skin- for a metal unit of a man he somehow managed to move without making a sound. He was leaning against the kitchen door frame wearing a tattered t-shirt, with his hands in the pockets of his low-riding sweatpants.
'What does it look like? Making breakfast.' He furrowed his brows, seemingly astonished at the idea of you cooking. 'You want some bacon?'
'Hell yeah.’ He waltzed into the living room, adding sarcastically over his shoulder ‘you keep this up I might even marry you for real.'
To be honest, breakfast was intended as a sort of peace offering. You'd thought about it some more and he was right, you were being an asshole yesterday. You even decided to give him more bacon than you. Now that’s an apology.
'Have you heard from Stark?' He shook his head, not looking up from the pile of meat he was shovelling into his mouth. 'Me neither. I just figured it would help if we actually knew which house we were monitoring.'
'Must be one of the other three in this dead end bit, I'll head up and check out all the gear he's left us after breakfast.'
Not a bad idea, but you'd had one of your own too.
---
‘Cookies!’ You said excitedly, piling three Tupperware containers into your bag.
‘Yeah I’m not blind, just confused.’
‘This happy husband and wife are going to introduce themselves to the neighbours and these’ you shook the last box of cookies at him ‘will win us favour.’ You ignored his derisive nod.
The first house was next to yours on the left, similar looking on the outside but with two pretty expensive vintage cars parked outside. You pressed the bell and heard movement approaching. Just as the lock clicked on the other side of the door, Bucky quickly snaked his arm around your waist and pulled you into his side.
'Oh, hello.' Standing in front of you was an old lady with a British accent and warm smile.
'Hi- um...' Bucky had completely knocked you for six and, judging by the smug smirk on his face, he knew it.
'We've just moved in next door.' He piped in. 'Thought we'd come by to introduce ourselves. My wife made you some cookies too, you won’t believe how good she is at baking.'
Well shit, you'd never heard him sound so much like a normal person. He even punctuated his sentence with a polite chuckle.
'Well aren't you two just lovely.’
You smiled sweetly at her, finally back on your game, and handed over one of the Tupperware boxes. 'I'm Jo and this is Tom- it’s great to meet you.’
You made small talk with your neighbour for a couple minutes, ending with a promise to be back round for tea at your earliest convenience. As soon as the door closed, Bucky's hand dropped from your waist and he headed towards the next house.
'Maybe warn me next time Barnes? Freaked me right out.' You complained, as if that wasn't his intention. 'And if that hand goes any lower I'm taking it off.'
He stopped and saluted at you sarcastically as you passed him to go towards the next door.
The other two houses seemed completely inconspicuous too- a middle aged lady with fiery red hair who insisted the two of you join her and her husband (the lawyer) for drinks one night this week, and a couple not much older looking than you and Bucky with two young children and a new-born baby.
'Well that got us a big fat nothing.' He complained, plonking himself down on the armchair in the living room.
'You're joking, right?' He looked at you, one eyebrow raised. 'It's our first day here and we can already clearly identify the supposed residents of each house, we've convincingly consolidated our cover with each of them and two of them even invited us over.'
'Huh, suppose when you put it like that… We can probably just take the rest of the day off then.'
And he did. You spent hours in the surveillance room typing up a mission report, he watched TV for two hours then slinked off to the mini-gym for the rest of the day.
Seems he was settling into married life quite well too.
---
The next night, you and Bucky were leaving for drinks with Kate the redhead and her lawyer husband.
‘I don’t see why we’re doing this.’ He was fidgeting in the shirt that was far too tight over his shoulders. ‘That redhead hardly seems like the boss of an international crime gang.’
‘If criminals seemed like criminals they wouldn’t be very good fucking criminals would they, Barnes. And since Stark has been all-but-ignoring us since we arrived, we’ve got to explore all avenues.’
You were greeted by Kate at the door and she led you through to their house. It was decorated like a hunter’s log cabin, all brown leather and dark wood. In the living room, the lawyer was waiting with two expensive-looking bottles of scotch. Bucky was invited to join him for ‘man time’ while you and Kate were sequestered to the kitchen with a cheap bottle of wine.
You wouldn’t be coming here again.
Kate was nice enough but you had very little in common, and you could sense years of simmering resentment between her and her husband. She glared at the door after every obnoxiously loud chortle from the living room, even though you recognised some of them as Bucky, and she kept asking you whether your husband was starting to become emotionally distant yet. The evening didn’t pass nearly fast enough and you actually found yourself wishing that you had listened to your reluctant partner.
Hours later, when you finally felt you’d got as much as you could out of Kate, you made your excuses and headed to grab Bucky. He was leaning back in the leather armchair, looking different somehow. He gazed at you with a carefree grin, no tension in his shoulders and a look in his eyes you didn’t recognise.
Was he tipsy? One of the whiskey bottles was empty and they were making good progress on the second.
‘You ready to go honey?’
‘We’ve got half a bottle of Macallan scotch to drink yet sweetheart, you’re welcome to run along home if you please’ the lawyer piped up. You never bothered asking his real name, didn’t seem worth your time.
‘Nah, I’m good,' Bucky cut in, 'I think it’s time to take my beautiful wife to bed.’
He launched himself off the armchair with great effort and stumbled towards you. You were taken aback by his sudden familiarity but careful not to blow your cover, so you let him pull you in by the waist and plant a few soft kisses on the top of your head. You may even have enjoyed that part, just a bit. That was probably the wine talking though.
You didn’t enjoy, however, having to all-but-carry him for the short walk back to your house. He weighed a fuck-tonne.
The two of you spilled through the front door and into the living room, Bucky collapsing onto the armchair with all the grace of a newborn horse.
'That guy was an asshole, man.' He had his head back and his eyes closed, so you had a bit of difficulty deciding whether he was speaking to you or himself.
'Yeah? How so?'
'Just a stuck up rich guy y'know, plus the way he spoke to you was out of order. Give me the word next time and I'll bust his ass.'
'I appreciate the sentiment Barnes' you chuckled, 'but I can look after myself just fine.'
Content that he'd survive the night with nothing more than a throbbing headache, you started walking past him towards the stairs. As you got to his side he reached out, grabbing you by the wrist softly, but with enough force that you stopped dead and looked over at him. His eyes were open now, he was staring at you earnestly.
'I'm serious y/n. No-one speaks to my wife like that.'
---
‘What the HELL?’
You jolted awake. Turning your head, you looked at the time. 3am? What in Christ's name is he shouting for?
Oh fuck, you’d forgotten.
You were pissed off at Bucky earlier for leaving all his dirty plates in the sink, so you’d put them in his bed. Petty, yes. But your point was a fair one.
You’d left him on the armchair, he must’ve slept there for a few hours then woken up and decided to go to bed. He stormed into your room.
‘Why the FUCK are there plates in my bed?’
‘Oh gosh, I’m not sure. Maybe the dish fairy, you know the one who puts your dishes in the washer after you leave them all over the place, put them there?’
Swaying slightly and clenching his teeth, you guessed he was probably too drunk and sleepy for a proper argument.
‘Right.’ He pulled his shirt off.
‘Whoa Barnes, the fuck are you playing at?’ Bucky was undoing his belt and in a matter of seconds was standing in your room in just his underwear.
‘Move over.’
‘Instinct says... no.’
With a slightly jarring look of determination, Bucky clambered over you to the far side of the bed and pulled the covers over himself. For a second you were silent with shock. You and Bucky were in bed together, both just wearing underwear.
His thigh brushed against yours and sent an electric sensation up your side.
Granted, it would be a hell of a lot easier to just accept this and go to sleep, but you had to be seen to make some kind of protest. You half-heartedly grabbed his arm, trying to yank him towards the edge of the bed- a pointless endeavour.
‘This is not happening.’
‘Go sleep in the ketchup bed then.’
‘You’re an ass.’
He let out a deep chuckle before turning his back to you and getting comfortable. After firing an irritated groan at the back of his neck, you flicked the lamp off and turned your back in kind.
Before falling asleep, you and Bucky shared a thought. You tried not to over-analyse it, but it made Bucky grin to himself.
You could easily have gone to sleep on the sofa.
---
Part Four
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@billy-jeans23
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#bucky x you#bucky x reader#bucky x y/n#bucky imagine#bucky fanfiction#bucky fluff#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes fanfiction#marvel fanfiction#marvel fic#marvel imagine#bucky barnes fluff#bucky fic#bucky barnes fic
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Till The Final Bullet
Series Summary: “In a place where they won't let us feel, In a place where nothing seems real. I will hold you. In a world that’s moving too fast. In a world where nothing can last. I will hold you.”-Last Night of The World- Miss Saigon
From the age of twelve, Y/N Y/L/N, has been trained by Hydra, and used as an assailant for a number of years. She’s been taught not to feel, but when she’s put in a kill squad with the Winter Solider, their partnership is deadly, as their motivation becomes more than just keeping themselves alive.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Series Warning: Angst, Fluff, Strong Language, Eventual Smut, Dark!Bucky (I think??) (18+ Only)
Part One// Part Two// Part Three// Part Four// Part Five Part Six//
Part Seven: Revolution Square, Bucharest
Chapter Warning: Violence, Angst, Fluff, Strong Language, Mention of Sex
Word Count: 5.1k
“Please…don’t. Please…I’ll do anything.”
You watched the person wither on the floor, the bullet in their leg, spewing blood from the split in the skin.
“Please…”
You stride towards them, squatting down next to their head, you press the palm of your hand onto the wound, increasing the pressure made the person cry out in further anguish.
“Please…stop.”
They continued to beg, but your mind was numb, your body was numb, you felt nothing as their cries only increased.
You stand from their flailing carcass, and begin to walk away, but not before you spin around, aiming the barrel of your gun, towards their head.
“Don’t do this…you don’t need to do this.” They continued to beg, but their pleas fell on deaf ears, as you held your stance stronger.
“You’re my mission.”
~~~~
You shot up in bed, panting heavily, sweat rolled down your body, and you clutched your knees to your chest, as you tried to calm down. The sound of the final gun shot, was echoing all around your brain, it was so loud it was like it was bouncing off the walls of your home.
The sound of you gasping for breath, and the feeling of something missing from his arms, James stirred next to you. When his eyes slowly peeled open, he saw your quivering balled up form, which made him sit up, immediately pulling you into his arms.
“What’s wrong, baby?” He kisses your head, then your neck, basically anywhere he can, desperately trying to calm your breathing, “talk to me, sweetheart. What’s happening?”
You just choke on a sob, as they begin to wrack your body, and you pushed your head into his neck, his warmth providing you with some comfort.
“Shh, it’s okay.” James begins to gently rock you, one of his hands was on your back, the other was gently combing through your hair.
“I…it was…I can’t” you stumble over your words, straining to get them out.
“Don’t talk, baby. Just breath.” He continues his soothing motions, your breathing slowly beginning to even out, reducing your sobs to small sniffles.
“You okay?” James asked you, leaning you back a little, so he could smooth some of the hair that had stuck to your sweaty forehead out of your face.
You snivel, and nod your head, you take your hands off your knees, and wrap them around James’ neck, so you can pull yourself impossibly closer.
“Hey, hey it’s okay. I’m here.” He circles his arms around your waist, one of his hands cups your head, the other holding you close to his chest, “it’s alright, baby. We’re safe now.”
You push your face into the flesh of his shoulder, his scent was calming to you.
You sat like that for a while, James had pulled you into his lap, when he realised you weren’t about to let go of him anytime soon. He’s moved your legs, so they were either side of his torso, and he’d pulled the thin blanket back up, to try and cover your bodies.
At some point you must have fallen back asleep, because the next time you woke up, you were alone on the mattress, neatly rolled in the blanket, and the smell of burnt toast wafted up your nose.
You sit up, and look over the couch, to see James stood in the kitchen, he looked at you, when he heard you giggle, after he cursed under his breath, once he’d burned his fingers on your crappy old toaster.
“Morning sleepyhead.” He sauntered over to you, with a plate of toast and a bowl of cereal, you giggled once again when you saw he was just in his boxers, butter smeared across his lower abdomen, where he had clearly lent on the counter, during his cooking façade.
“What are you laughing at?” he asked you, as he handed you the plate and bowl, before he could sit down, you gave him back the food. He looked at you confused, but before he could ask you anything, you took your finger, and wiped the butter off his skin.
You heard him take a sharp intake of breath, as the butter was very close to the top of his boxers. You made it worst, when you then put your finger into your mouth, and sucked on it, cleaning it.
“Can’t we eat first, baby girl?” he groaned, as he watched you swirl your tongue over the digit. Releasing your finger with a ‘pop’, you took the bowl and plate back from James, whilst he settled himself back into bed, sitting behind you. You felt his semi-erected cock press into your back, but he seemed to ignore that, when he held out his hand, for his plate of toast.
You hand him back the toast, smiling proudly to yourself.
“You going to tell me what that little thing was about last night?” your smile drops, and you start fishing around your bowl, prodding at the cereal with your spoon.
“No.” you mumble.
“I think you should, you know I hate seeing you like that.” James’ knuckles were running up and down your arms trying to comfort you, but you shrug his hands off of you.
“I don’t want to.” You sulk, eyes stinging a little.
“Hey, hey, hey,” James put his plate down on the floorboards next to you and pulled the bowl of cereal from your hands placing it next to his toast, so he could clutch your hands, “don’t close up on me, baby. You need to talk to me.”
You just shake your head, pulling one of your hands free, so you could wipe your tears away that were threatening to spill.
“Come on, sweetheart. Whatever it is, you know you can’t scare me away.” James tried to convince.
“I’m just a bad person.” You croaked, biting your lip, that had started to wobble.
“Hey, no you aren’t. Baby look at me,” James pulled your face into his hands, which meant you could look nowhere but his steel blue eyes, “you are not a bad person. You’re the bravest, most courageous person I know, I couldn’t imagine my life without you.”
You begin to sniff, hoping it will stop the waterworks from coming into use, James smooths under your eyes, hoping to stop the waterfall to.
“You are meaningful, you have worth, and I love every inch of you. From your head, to your toes, from your outside to your inside. Your past, present and future. You’re the only one for me.”
Your heart swells at James’ words, and you didn’t think you could love anything more, than how much you loved this man right now.
“Do you understand, sweetheart?” you nod your head, but James shakes his, “no, say it. I understand, that I’m meaningful, and my life has worth.”
“I understand that I’m meaningful, and my life has worth.” You mutter, James decides to not push you, to say it louder. The fact that you said the words was satisfying for him.
“Good girl,” he praised, before pecking your forehead, and reaching down to grab your bowl from the floor, “now eat up.”
You took the bowl, and leaned back a little, pressing yourself into James’ chest, and he hung his head over your shoulder.
As time had moved on, the last few months had really brought a change in James. He’s become a new man, a better man from the one that he was when he was imprisoned at HYDRA. He always cared about you, but now he seemed different. In a good way, but he seemed like he was feeling a little lighter, then his usual grim self.
Smiling more, laughing more. Once you were settled, and began taking jobs from the neighbours, in order to pay your way, James would introduce himself as Bucky. He never faltered, or paused when someone called him by that name, it was like it had always been. He only liked you calling him Jay, never James, and you respected that.
Some nights when you would be eating dinner, he would suddenly start telling you stories about his life before HYDRA, just completely off the cuff. Reciting the tales, as if it was just yesterday. You loved hearing him speak with such a happy tone, and you only wished you could revel in a brighter past.
“Got any sinks to fix today, my little handy woman?” he asked taking a bite of his toast.
“No actually, I’m free all day,” you shake your head, shovelling another mouthful of cereal, “what about you?”
“No, I think Mrs Nicolescu has run out of giving me shit jobs.” James chuckled.
“Hey, you don’t get to call your jobs shit, I literally fix toilets.” You jab him in the ribs with your spoon, and he rubs his side, with mock horror. Just as his face cracks into a grin.
“Okay you make a good point,” James kisses your cheek, his hair flopping in your eyes, “well least we both have the day off, what do you want to do?”
“Well, you could let me cut your hair?” you mumble, pushing it back from his eyes. James just narrows his eyes at you.
“Absolutely not.” He says firmly.
“Please, just a little trim, to keep it out of your eyes?” you reason, but James just pulled your hand away from his face, pinning it to your lap.
“N-O. Spells. No.” he confirmed to you, punctuating each word with a kiss on each of your cheeks, before one final peck on your lips.
“Fine, no impromptu haircut,” you huff, blowing his fringe out of your face, “what do you want to do?”
“Well…that milk that you’re drinking…” you paused halfway through tipping the bowl of the leftover milk into your mouth, “is the last of it, so we could probably head into the market?”
You nod your head, as you lean back into his chest, once you had set the now empty bowl and plate onto the floor next to you.
“Sounds like a plan,” You hum, “but first I want to cuddle for a bit.”
“Oh baby girl, we’re not gonna be cuddling.” You shriek when James flips you over, so that you’re on your back, and he’s attacking your neck in kisses.
You giggle, the feeling of his lips running up and down your skin tickling.
~~~~
After your morning shenanigans, you and James had gotten dressed, in your usual incognito attire, and made your way into the market.
James and you, had fallen in love with the city of Bucharest. Sure, you didn’t have any friends, but you were well acquainted with your neighbours, they seemed nice enough, and they rarely asked you any personal questions. The city was beautiful in its own little way, and the two of you loved to wonder the streets in the evening, just admiring the lights, there was so much history here, you and James loved to explore it all.
You wondered along the stalls, glancing at the odd bit of tat that may look appealing on your walls. James eventually, dragging you away from some little old lady, who had nearly convinced you to buy a sleep charm.
Last night wasn’t a solo occurrence, your nightmares had begun all the way back, when you were still calling the HYDRA base ‘home’. The only difference with these night terrors, is that you had James by your side to help sooth you and calm you back to sleep. When you were in HYDRA, you had no choice, but to either lay awake and stare at a particular section of your ceiling or bribe the doctors to give you some sleeping pills.
“Baby, it doesn’t work.” James stated as he was dragging you away by your arm.
“It’s just a bit of fun, Jay. What’s the harm in that?”
“We don’t have the money, for just a bit of fun. We need food.” He reprimanded you.
“When did you become so serious?” you cross your arms over your chest when he had finally let go.
“One of us has to be.” You roll your eyes at him, and he just wraps his arm around your neck, pulling you into him making you giggle.
Finally, you reach the fruit and veg stall, and you begin placing things in a paper bag. James grabs a handful of plums, while you look over some broccoli florets.
“Ce fac ei? Sunt bune?” ‘How are they? Are they good?’
James asked the owner, looking over some of the plums.
“Da, astăzi sunt bune.” ‘Yes, they are good today.’
The man beamed, holding up a brown bag, for James to put them in.
“Dă-mi șase,” ‘Give me, six.’
James watches the man fill the bag with plums before he hands the bag back.
“mulțumesc.” ‘thank you.’
James hands the man some lei, and then you do the same with your bouquet of broccoli, before you both depart the stall, waving to the smiley gentlemen.
It had been a long time since somebody had smiled at you and James, you both had spent so long, behind tortured and brainwashed into committing horrific crimes. Crimes that will haunt you the rest of your lives. You were carrying secrets that you’d have to take to your grave. James was the only person, who knew exactly what you’d seen, and he was the only person, who understood how you felt. He was truly your soulmate.
You stood on the edge of the curb as you waited to cross the street. The sound of a siren in the distance, made you both look to the ground, avoiding the view of the cop car, that tears by you.
Once you sure the car is gone, you gradually look up, your eyes catch on a second pair across the road. They were staring intensely in your direction. You look away, before going back, only to see that he was still staring.
“Jay.” You whisper, pulling at his hand.
“Mmm?” he hums, looking at you.
“There’s a man over there.” You nod your head in the direction of the pair of eyes, that were still on the two of you.
James follows your nod, towards the little newsstand that was across the street, he looked away just as you did, before looking back.
“Is he looking at us?” you mumble, turning so you were looking at James, so he had a reason to look in the direction of the man.
“It certainly looks that way.” Without speaking, James began to cross the street, heading towards the newsstand.
“Jay, what are you doing?” James doesn’t answer you, and soon you’re on the opposite side of the road, striding towards the man, who looks increasingly worried. As you both got closer, the man began panicking, and just before you reached the front of his stall, he broke out the back door and ran down the street.
“Where is he going, Jay…Jay?” you turn to look at James, who’s eyes are glued to the paper in his hands, “what does it say?”
You lean over his shoulder, your own eyes going wide when you read the headline:
WINTER SOLDIER CÄUTAT PENTRU BOMBARDMENTUL DIN VIENA
‘WINTER SOLDIER WANTED FOR THE VIENNA BOMBING’
“What the hell?” you gasped, quickly glancing around you, just to check whether anyone had noticed the man fleeing his stand, and the fact that the man on the security camera in Vienna was currently stood right in the middle of Revolution Square.
“Jay, we can’t stay here,” you pulled at James’ arm, “it’s too open, we need to get back to the apartment, and work out our next move.”
You pulled at his arm once again, when he didn’t move.
“James…we…need…to…go.” You say firmly, successfully pulling him away.
Quick walking back to your apartment, you make sure to keep your head down, at some point; James had grabbed hold of your hand and his hold on it was almost painful, as he gripped it tightly.
You made it to your building, but you stopped, which made James look to you.
“What, we need to get inside, why have you stopped?” he asked you flustered, looking around to check if you had been followed.
“Something seems off.” Your eye narrowed as you looked up at your building.
“What do you mean?” James follows your gaze, as you look up the side of the building.
“It just seems…quiet.” You tune your ears into what is usually a vibrant building, when you left this morning, Mr Luca had been playing his favourite folk music, whilst Miss Aldea was singing along. Most of the time children would be running up and down the fire escape, but now the only noise and sound of life came from the stray dogs, that were howling a few blocks away. The building now stood in an eerie silence, and every fibre of your being was telling you something was wrong.
Instead of going through the main door, you head up the fire escape on the side of the building. You walk up the side of the building, finally reaching your floor, you press your backs to the wall, and edge your way along.
Through the newspaper clippings you had placed on your windows, you could see the outline of someone stood in your kitchen. Thankfully, you had remembered to leave one of the windows open.
You looked back to James, who just gave you a nod, as you silently stepped through the window. The man invading your home you recognised immediately, it was Steve Rogers or Captain America, he was too focused on James’ notebook that was on the top of the fridge to notice James following behind you, stepping through the window.
Suddenly Steve jerked his head, sensing a presence behind him, and he turned to face you, he looked you up and down.
“You know me?” he asked.
“You’re Steve,” James confirmed, “we read about you in a museum.”
Steve had a look on his face, that it wasn’t just James’ voice he could here, and movement outside your window, made your head turn.
“I know you’re nervous,” Steve continued, he placed James’ notebook down on the side, and took small steps towards you, “and you have plenty of reason to be.”
James lightly grabbed the back of your shirt, pulling you closer to him. You both had every right to be nervous; not only did it appear that there was a worldwide man hunt for James, but the man, who stabbed you in the leg, and broke your lover’s arm, was currently standing in your apartment.
“But you’re lying,” you squint at Steve’s words, James’ hand moved from your shirt to your hand, squeezing hard.
“He wasn’t in Vienna, he doesn’t do that anymore,” you spoke up for James, “we don’t do that anymore.”
“Well the people, who think you did, are coming here now. And they’re not planning on taking you alive.”
“That’s smart, very smart,” you laugh, a little nervously, letting go of James’ hand, and walking to your draw, pulling out your magnum, “good strategy.”
You stopped smiling when you hear the sounds of banging on your roof, the noise similar to heavy footsteps.
“This doesn’t have to end in a fight, Buck.” Steve tried to reason, but you snort, looking to James, who shares your disbelief. He began taking his gloves off.
“It always ends in a fight.” He mumbled, his silver hand becoming visible when he removes his last glove.
“You pulled me from the river. Why?” Steve questioned you, the way his temper rose, made you anxious and shifty.
“I don’t know.” James sighed.
You began walking round the room, assembling your various artillery you had stolen from HYRDA. Tucking the Magnum into your back pocket, you pulled up a floorboard by your bed, retrieving your combat knife, sliding it into your other pocket. Shuffling around the floor, you picked up your small explosives, placing them in your jacket.
“Yes, you do.”
Suddenly a smashing sound, has you running to James, he holds you close, as a bright flash came from your kitchen, Steve pushing it aside with his shield. It exploded mid-air.
A second canister shattered a second window, this one landed by your feet, and you kicked it at Steve, who covered it with his shield, controlling the explosion. Loud banging coming from your door, jerked you into fight mode, James pulled you by your waist, before helping to shield you, using your scummy mattress, that he lifted over your head, when a third explosive was launched through your window.
You watched the door, begin to crack under whatever force was being used on the other side.
“Jay, the door.” You pointed to the bending hinges, and James quickly flipped your table into the doorway, blocking their entrance.
Your victory was short lived, as more loud crashing was heard from within your apartment, when two heavily armoured soldiers, burst through your windows. James fought one of them off, whilst you tried to finish collecting your own weaponry. In the process of fighting the second soldier, Steve pulled the rug from under his feet, while the soldier discharged his weapon. One of the bullets grazed your hip, tearing the skin, which made you crumple over, crying out in distress.
“Y/N!” James shouted, his anger rising, as he threw the soldier into the wall, before running to you, “Are you okay? Are you hit?”
You press your hand over your hip, where the wound was, you shook your head at James’ words of concern.
“No, it’s just a flesh wound, I’ll be fine. We need to get out of here.” you wince as you stand upright, “we’ve prepared for this.” You give him a look, and he returns it with his own look of sadness, at the realisation you were going to have to abandon your home, but he gives you a sharp nod of his head.
A third soldier burst through your balcony door, Steve lifted his shield, but James’ pent up rage; of his home being invaded, his partner being shot at, and the fact that they were looking for him in the first place, for a crime he didn’t commit, sent him over the edge, and he kicked the guy hard in the chest, sending him flying through the doorway.
“Buck, stop.” Steve grabbed James’ shoulder, James rotated in his grip, “you’re gonna kill someone.”
James’ nostrils flared at that statement, he shoved Steve to the ground, briefly holding him there, before raising his fist. He slammed into the floorboard just by Steve’s head, his fist going through the floor.
“I’m not going to kill anyone.” He pulled the rucksack you had hidden under the floor, free from its hiding space, before walking back over to you, “do you think you can make it?”
You step onto your tippy toes, glancing over the edge of the balcony, you shrug, “I’ve done worst.”
You give him a small smile, he doesn’t return it, instead he grabs your face, kissing your lips passionately.
“If I’m not with you in 10 minutes, you go without me.” He says, once he pulled away.
“Just see me in 8, Barnes.” You joke for one last time, before stepping over Steve’s body, and strapping the backpack on, “see you in a bit.”
You blow James a kiss, before taking a few steps back, then running as fast as you can, leaping over the side of the balcony.
You fall for a few seconds, rolling into a landing position, once you reach impact on the ledge, yelling when you roll over the graze on your hip. Pulling yourself up and onto your feet, you dive behind a large vent, that was for the building beneath your feet, and take cover as you wait for James to join you.
You eye your wrist intently, as the little hands wined around the clockface of your watch.
5 minutes…6 minutes…7 minutes…10 minutes…
You sigh, looking around the side of the vent, so you can survey the building opposite you, that was alive with the sound of gunfire, and shouts.
“Come on, Jay…come on, baby.” You look to the sky, you don’t know why, just at that point you would have believed in anything, just anything that was going to give you, your love back.
And then, as if your prayers had been answered, from a lower window, you watch a man flailing a little, as he leaps from the balcony. From the mop of brown hair, you know it was your man, and you thank, whoever was looking down on you, and you run to meet him, as he makes a similar crash landing to you.
“Where’ve you been, you’re late.” you tap your watch, but he’s in no mood for games, and just seizes your arm, pulling you with him, as he broke into a sprint.
You’re only running for a short while, before a large shadow is cast over your heads. Before you have a chance to look up, you’re being knocked to the ground by a kick to head,
“Ah!” you and James both yelled, as you summersault over yourselves. You quickly stand, and your left even more confused when what appeared to be an overgrown black cat stood in front of you.
“What are you supposed to be?” you shout, but he doesn’t answer, instead he poises his claws, quickly telling you, this man was not your friend. You drop the bag, pulling your knife, just as you and James leap onto him. He kicks James away, and you swing the knife, but he ducks, and easily deflects your counter punch. Pushing you away, he takes on James, whose tactic was to just throw as many punches as possible hoping he would land one eventually.
Unfortunately, he doesn’t land any, and instead is kicked into an air-conditioning unit, collapsing onto the floor. You rush him, just before the black cat could plunge his claws into James’ face.
James is able to stand, whilst you block all of your opponent’s attempted attacks. However, he catches you off balance, and you fall to the floor, without time to recover, you wait for the inevitable impact of the claws, but it doesn’t come as James jumps in front of you, taking the claws to his arm.
James tackles him to the ground, flipping him onto his back, but the black cat recovers quicker, and stands over James as he tries to claw his way at James chest, but you slide him an iron bar, which James uses as a stick to hold off the sharpened metal.
You pull the magnum from your back pocket and begin firing shots at the man in the fancy-dress costume, but that proves useless as the bullets simply ping off the man’s protective suit. The bar snaps, and the cat seizes his opportunity, but James holds the man’s wrists firmly, and just about keeps him away.
Soon the sound of your gun, is drowned out by the tirade of gunfire that comes from the sky, as a helicopter sores into view, and begins shelling the two men. Thankfully the man’s suit remains bullet repellent even during the heavy firing, therefore; shielding James.
The man briefly becomes distracted by the sight of a helicopter spinning out of the air, and James chooses his time wisely, and muscles free of the cat’s hold. You grab the rucksack, and then James’ hand, sprinting off the roof, and jumping down the side.
Unfortunately for you, the black cat followed you, sliding down the side of the building.
Feet planted solidly on the ground, you both take off, heading towards the underpass, you used it as shelter, when you heard the sound of the helicopter’s blades slicing through the air. You leapt down, breaking into another heart pounding sprint through the sublevel freeway, narrowly avoiding being hit by cars.
Sirens echo behind you, as you pace your way through the tunnel, you glance over your shoulder to see that the black cat, and Steve, were following you.
James and you climbed over cars, and swerved through the traffic, skilfully evading the police. Just as you were approaching an intersection, cop cars coming from the opposite directing had you and James skidding in different directions.
“Split up!” you yelled, James going one way, you go another. You ran alongside each other, only you were on the correct hand side of the road, while James ran against the traffic.
Once you heard the loud crash behind you, you assumed that it was the police colliding with one another, so ran to join James on his side of the road. As you approached, you watched him overturn a man riding his motorcycle. You make you way on his side of the road, stopping dead as he drove towards you. Just before the wheels could crush you, you grabbed the handlebars, and flipped over the top of James’ head, rotating mid-air, and landing perfectly behind James, as he continued to speed off.
Now on the bike; it was easier to swerve in and out of traffic, but it was still difficult fighting against the flow of traffic, so you crossed over once again.
Suddenly you sensed a force, heading towards you, and you turned just in time, to seize the black cat by the throat, holding him aloft, as James continued to speed. The man was a little heavier than you were anticipating, and was able to use it to his advantage, flipping you over so the bike was leaning heavily on it’s side. James stopped you all from falling, by laying his hand on the road, sparks flew as metal and tarmac met.
You managed to kick, the man away from your bike, and he went rolling off, James straightened out the bike, by pushing off the ground, both of you now, sitting up right.
You dislodged one of your hand grenades from one of your jacket’s pockets, flicking it onto the ceiling of the motor tunnel. You hold your ears as the explosion happens.
Once again, the sound of metal grazing metal filled your ears, and before you could do anything, you and James were skidding off of the bike, that overturned, and skidded away. Both of you rolling across the concrete. Eventually halting, in amongst the rubble and dirt.
“No.” you cried, just as the cat lured over James, preparing to strike, but he’s tackled to the floor by Steve. You stand and point your gun at the man, hobbling to James, who wraps his arm around you.
Soon enough, you are circled by the police, all armed as they advance towards you. You jump when a man made of metal falls from the sky, bearing what appeared to be some heavy-duty missiles in his shoulder pads. You held the gun firmly, the threat level in your head, still remained very high.
“Stand down, now.” The metal man ordered; his weapons trained on you. Shakily you let the gun drop to the floor, you followed as the adrenaline that had been keeping you going wore off, and the pain in your side became overpowering.
“Baby.” James breathes, following you to the floor, holding you close to him.
“Congratulations, Cap. You’re a criminal.” You faintly here the metal man say.
You squeeze James’ hand as your eyes begin to roll.
“Somebody help me, please.” James shouted, holding his hand over the wound in your side.
People rushed to you, but they didn’t help in the way you could have hoped. Ripping you from James’ arms, you try to fight back, knowing they were going to separate you.
You could hear James yelling back, trying to struggle from the men, but they just pin him to the ground. They do the same to you, cuffing you, before sitting you up, an EMT running over to pack your wound.
They lifted you up, and you continued to fight them, all the while hearing James shouting for you, and for the men to let you go.
They placed you in separate vans, the last sound you hear is the heavy slamming of a door.
A/N: I can not tell you have many times I had to rewatch the scene of Bucky’s apartment in order to write this chapter. So much shit happens in space of about 5 minutes, and it’s intense!!!
Part Eight//
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#bucky barnes#bucky x reader#bucky fic#bucky angst#bucky fluff#bucky x y/n#darkbucky#dark bucky x reader#winter solider x y/n#winter soldier#winter soldier x reader#winter soldier fanfiction#winter soldier fic#civil war#marvel fanfiction#marvel smut#marvel movies#james bucky barnes#james barnes#james buchanan barnes#james barnes x reader
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The Crawler’s Day Off
Category: Friendship Fluff
Fandom: Vigilantes- My Hero Academia Illegals
Characters: Koichi Haimawari, Kazuho Haneyama
A sedated smile decorated Koichi’s lips as he leisurely strolled across the sidewalk leading up to the spacious mall looming before him. To celebrate the conclusion of his college midterms, Kazuho had invited him to peruse the mall for a few hours. The mall’s hero merchandise shop had launched a new line of All Might hoodies, so naturally, Koichi was mega-game.
Heat simmered across the pavement as it soaked up the sizzling summer sun blazing in the azure sky. The bare skin of his limbs very much enjoyed soaking up the pleasant heat provided by the rays spearing down from the atmosphere. Though it was the height of the season, Koichi’s trusty All Might hoodie looped around his waist, the sleeves flopping against his thighs with every step. A vigilante never knew when or where they had to spring into action, after all. Since his gain in popularity, Koichi had taken to carting around his hoodie and mask wherever he went, just in case.
“Koichiiiii~!” The young college boy stopped in his tracks, craning his head as his name floated out of the crowd eclipsing the mall’s entrance. After a quick scan, he spotted a shock of poofy magenta hair bouncing around a grinning bespectacled face. Koichi found his smile brightening as he spotted Kazuho. He quickened his pace, eagerly trotting up to her.
“Hey. Have you been waiting very long?” Koichi asked sheepishly, his smile crinkling with mild guilt. Kazuho smiled pleasantly as she shook her head. “Oh, great. Ready to go inside, then?” he asked with a gesture towards the automatic sliding glass doors. Kazuho responded with a bright “Yep!” and they strolled into the massive building together.
As they stepped over the threshold, two things struck Koichi: the refreshing blast of the air conditioner and the cacophony of the throng. People milled about the mall’s central rotunda or meandered towards their favorite stores, all while chattering incessantly. As it was a Saturday, the nearby settlements’ young residents had flocked to the mall to escape the intense summer heat and indulge in some shopping. Shouting slightly to surpass the dissonance of a thousand conversations, he asked Kazuho, “What would you like to do first?”
“Eh? Didn’t you want to go to that merch store or whatever, Koichi?” she asked loudly while playing with the voluminous end of one of her pigtails. Koichi’s cheeks pinkened at her consideration, and he rubbed the back of his neck as his eyes trailed to the colorful signs and cosplayed mannequins adorning the shop’s front. His blue eyes flickered back to the girl, who just regarded him curiously.
“We can go there later,” he decided, though every cell in his body vibrated with the need to have his hands on the new limited-edition hoodie as soon as possible. Kazuho had been nice enough to invite him on the outing, so the least he could do was allow her to enjoy herself. “Is there anywhere you want to go?”
Kazuho’s cheeks turned the color of her hair as her magenta eyes drifted eastward.
“Well,” she offered shyly, wringing her hands and jingling the bracelets around her wrist, “I’d really like to check out the bath products store… They have nice bath bombs…” Kazuho’s gaze flickered to him anxiously, as if she expected him to scoff in disdain. The boy just smiled and began walking purposefully towards that end of the mall.
“All right, then! Bath bombs, here we come!” As he strode off, he heard Kazuho squeak, and her flats slap-slapped after him.
“Wait! Koichi!”
~~~~~~~~~~
The bath bomb store nestled between a jewelry store and a bookstore. Koichi mulled about as Kazuho inspected the various wares piled in the plastic bin, picking up the compressed balls of soap and sniffing them to decide on her favorite aromas. Koichi realized that he was the only male in the store, but he didn’t mind; Kazuho’s eyes sparkled with delight as she sampled the bath bombs, so he was content as long as she was. As he waited patiently for her to choose her purchases, he meandered around, flipping open random bottles of shea butter lotions and shower gels to sniff them. He had to admit, quite a few of them smelled very lovely indeed.
As he sniffed at a bottle of red apple-scented shower gel, a sudden scream made him gasp and drop the bottle. Droplets of viscous ruby liquid splashed across the white tile as he dashed to the storefront, looking left and right. People shrieked and tripped over one another as they raced away like scattered marbles. Koichi’s keen eyes tracked their frantic movements to their origin- the jewelry store next door.
“Put it all in the bag! Hurry up!” A villain cornering a terrified jeweler barked savagely as he brandished a wicked-looked firearm in her face. Upon closer inspection, Koichi realized that the weapon actually morphed out of his hand. He can turn his body into guns? Freaky! Koichi thought as he gawked shamelessly. He only stumbled backward when Kazuho forcibly yanked him, dragging him around the displays of shampoos and conditioners and lotions to the back of the store. The cashiers and other customers huddled behind the register counter, one of them frantically speaking to an emergency operator.
“Koichi! Are we gonna do something?” Kazuho hissed as she squatted down behind a round display, jerking him down into a crouch beside her. Koichi frowned; though he’d brought his disguise, a mall was a terribly busy place. Several pro heroes were bound to be patrolling the complex, and they wouldn’t take well to a pair of vigilantes up-staging them. However, he could hear the frightened jewelry store girl pitifully sobbing as she frantically gathered the gold and silver wares at gunpoint.
“Someone has to do something,” he resolved, untying his hoodie so he could slink his arms through the sleeve and tug the hood up over his head. He fished his mask out of the pocket and strapped it over his face. “Stay here, Pop. Make sure the people in here are safe,” he ordered in a whisper before crawling out from behind the display.
“Okay. Be careful!” Kazuho whispered, her magenta eyes wide as she watched him slowly crawl on all fours back to the front of the store.
The mall was a ghost town; all the patrons had fled en masse, leaving the area silent except for the whimpers of the jewelry shop attendant and the angry curses of the robber. Koichi’s eyebrows narrowed in stark peaks over his oceanic eyes as he peered around the edge of the slim wall adjoining the two shops. One gun jutted out of the gunman’s leg to pin down the quivering security guard hunched in the corner between two bullet-ridden, shattered glass display cases. It looks like he can control the guns independently and produce them from any point on his body… That could be a problem, he frowned thoughtfully.
Still, time was of the essence. Koichi had to try.
Activating his Quirk, he zoomed across the tile, zig-zagging towards the gunman. Though Koichi’d hoped to catch him by surprise, the young girl gasping “oh!” when she caught sight of him rapidly slithering in made the villain whip around. Three pistols sprung up from his shoulders to automatically pepper Koichi with shots. The vigilante hurriedly hurled himself sideways to roll behind an undamaged display, though a bullet grazed his shin and splashed blood across the floor. He hissed at the sharp sting that bloomed across the nerve endings of his leg.
“Who’s there? A hero?” the villain demanded. Koichi heard the girl screech and dissolve into blubbering sobs. Eyes narrowed, Koichi peered into the reflection of a small viewing mirror. Through the cracked glass, he observed the assailant grab the jeweler roughly by the arm and yank her halfway over the counter while pressing the barrel of the gun against her temple. “Don’t you get any funny ideas!” he snarled over the desperate wails of the terrorized woman, who probably didn’t get paid enough for this. “I’ll do it! I swear!” He punctuated the promise with a cock of the gun, making the girl moan mournfully.
“Hey, hey, now,” Koichi called nonchalantly, easing his raised hands over the top of the counter with his arms tensed to yank them down in case the startled gunman tried to blow his fingers off. The unstable villain just watched with bloodshot eyes as Koichi inched his head up over the bullet-nicked counter. “Let’s just take it down a notch, both of us, yeah? I ain’t lookin’ for a fight.”
The villain’s eyebrow twitched as he regarded the teenager skeptically. With his hands still extended over his head, Koichi directed both his index fingers to the crying woman. “I just want the girl, yeah? You can rob the store all you want, but let’s just let her go, okay? This is way above her paygrade.”
“Yeah, but then I’d be deprived of a hostage.”
Finally, Koichi got a good glimpse of the offender. A muscle-bound brute well over six-feet, two-hundred pounds, the young vigilante only hoped to defeat him with a surprise attack with the frightened girl well out of harm’s way. Koichi’s eyes widened as he heard a few of the guns protruding from the villain’s body click, and he waved his hands in a placating gesture. “Look, man! It’s all good! I don’t have any fancy tricks up my sleeve.” He grinned cheesily as he all but lied through his teeth.
“Please,” the young girl pleading miserably through hiccuping sobs. “Just let me go. Take all the jewelry and money, I don’t care, just please- ahhhhhh!” Her pleas morphed into another round of screaming as the gunman shoved her down into the broken glass. His eyes trained on Koichi, who gradually edged himself to the left each time the opportunity presented itself.
“Shut up, bitch. Finish loading up the goods!” he snarled and shoved her harshly away. The girl tripped over her heels and landed on her rump, but hurriedly crawled to the case to begin shoveling rings and necklaces and earrings into the sack through blurry tears. When the man was momentarily distracted by ordering her around, Koichi dropped back onto all fours. He activated his Quirk to zoom up the wall and across the ceiling.
“What the hell-? Hey!” the man yelled, whipping around the shoot several of his guns at Koichi, who zig-zagged across the ceiling a skittering spider. The bullets narrowly avoided him, punching holes in the thin cardboard of the ceiling tiles. The girl took the opportunity to escape; panting, she clambered on all fours away from her assailant. Unfortunately, the man took notice. He materialized a new set of guns fixed directly on her crawling form. “Get back here!”
As the guns exploded with loud pops, Koichi dove down the wall to scoop up the attendant, wrapping his arms around her middle and throwing all his weight to his left. He carried her with him as he rolled over behind another counter. He deposited her near the rattled security guard, who yelled at their sudden appearance.
“Hold on. I’ll get you out of here,” Koichi ordered with a stern point of his finger. The white-faced girl just nodded frantically, irises swimming in a white sea. The villain now stamped around the back of the counter, cursing loudly and shooting in random directions as he gathered up his haul. Koichi carefully timed the firing of the guns with his sharp eyes to rapidly discern a pattern. He pinpointed a minute gap in their interval, one that would allow him to scoop up the two hostages and escape. Koichi had no care to combat the crazed, infuriated man; he’d leave that to the pro heroes. He was fast, not bulletproof.
“Now!” he cried, grabbing hold of the man and woman in the split-second gap between the gunfire. He kicked off the counter using his Quirk to boost his force, sending them hurtling out of the jewelry store into the common area. Koichi slammed into a sofa, flinging the two hostages around either side while he slid down the back of the couch with an agonized groan. He quickly recollected himself, rubbing his bruised nose and rising to peek around the spine of the couch. Though thoroughly rattled, neither hostages were significantly injured. He breathed a sigh of relief.
“Get back here, you little shit!”
“Oop! Time to dash,” Koichi gulped, dropping back down to all fours and firing up his Quirk. He zoomed away, zig-zagging to dodge the bullets raining down around him. He slipped right through the legs of a police officer rushing towards the scene with his gun drawn. It seemed the cavalry had finally arrived, and Koichi had no care to stick around for the conclusion. He’d saved the civilians; that’s all that mattered.
Koichi hurriedly slipped into an abandoned side exit hall and stripped himself of his All Might hoodie and mask, stashing it in a decorative plant and playing the part of the frightened onlooker as a few police officers and a sidekick dashed by. After they migrated off, satisfied the stammering boy cowering behind the fern was not their masked illegal hero, Koichi bought himself a bottle of water from the nearby vending machine. He drained it to the dregs in three large gulps. He tossed it into the nearby trashcan and then sunk onto the metal bench beside it, sagging as the adrenaline caught up to him.
“Ahhh… So much for a relaxing trip to the mall,” Koichi pouted. Still, as he fingered the fabric of his All Might hoodie still stuffed down between the broad leaves of the fresh-smelling fern, he smiled brightly. He saw the woman and security guard being led to safety, shock blankets hugging their forms. The woman paused when she glanced at him, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. As tears filled her eyes, she mouthed a simple thanks before allowing the EMT to lead her away.
~~~~~~~~~~
“Koichi! Are you okay?” Kazuho cried as he limped through the glass double doors of the mall entrance. She rushed up at him, grabbing him by the biceps to look him up and down frantically. “The heroes just led the villain out in cuffs. What a brute! Are you sure you aren’t hurt?”
“I’m fine, Pop,” he reassured her with an amused smile, regaled by her concern for him. “A bullet just grazed my leg; it’s nothin’ major. It isn’t even bleeding anymore.” Kazuho’s head dipped down to critically inspect the wound on his shin. After frowning at it for several seconds, she stepped away from him, cheeks pinkened.
“You didn’t come back immediately… I was worried.”
“Yeah,” he sighed apologetically, rubbing the back of his neck and wincing at the sweat coating his fingertips, “I lied low for a while to keep from attracting attention… I made a pretty good show of myself, after all.”
“You sure did,” Kazuho laughed, pulling out her phone. She beckoned him to look over her shoulder as she pulled up a webpage; the video she showed him featured him zooming out of the jewelry store with the hostages in tow. The headline read, The Crawler’s Day Off? Heroic Mall Rescue by Naruhata Vigilante!
“Wow,” he appreciated with a low whistle. “That was fast.”
“Yup,” she agreed as she pocketed her smartphone. “I would say that was a productive day, wouldn’t you?” At her girlish giggle, Koichi’s body sagged, and he released a miserable whine.
“No! I didn’t get that new hoodie! They’re probably all sold out now…”
“Actually…” As Kazuho shyly spoke up, pressing the pad of her index finger to her lips as she bashfully swayed her hips from side to side, Koichi sprang up like a soldier snapping to attention. She snickered and pulled a shopping bag from behind her back. Koichi’s breath left him in an awed gasp.
“Pop… You didn’t…”
“While you were laying low, I ran by the store and snagged the last one.”
“Thank you!” he trilled, snatching the bag as tears brimmed in his eyes. He cooed delightedly as he pulled the hoodie from the paper bag. He abandoned the container as he raised the article of clothing to adoringly admire it. “It’s spectacular… Pop, thank you!” he grinned, dropping the hoodie to reveal his absolutely beaming grin. Kazuho blushed and played with a chunk of her poofy pink hair.
“Of course. I know how excited you were about it, so…”
“But this must have cost so much! I have to pay you back.” As he went fishing his wallet out of his back pocket, Kazuho grabbed his wrist.
“No, it’s okay,” she refused with a soft smile. She pulled her hand back, and Koichi’s arm flopped limply to his side as he stared at her in bewilderment. Going shy again, she once more swung her hips slowly from left to right and back again. “I was happy to buy it for you. You can just make it up to me by using it well.”
Koichi blinked, humbled by her statement. Then, his grin widened, stretching his cheeks to an almost painful degree. He dropped his hoodie from his hips, depositing it in the shopping bag, before slipping his arms into the new one. “Y-you’re gonna wear that in this heat?!” Kazuho spluttered.
“Yep,” Koichi smiled as he flapped the front of the jacket to settle it over his torso. He then leaned down to pick up the shopping bag. “Sure am. So, wanna head home? I’m starving.”
Kazuho stared at him incredulously for a moment, then laughed mirthfully.
“Sure. How about curry?”
“Yum! My favorite!”
Use it well, Kazuho’s voice echoed in his mind as he strolled alongside her. The image of the woman thanking him then came to mind.
Yeah, Pop. I sure will.
Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!
#koichi haimawari#haneyama kazuho#haimawari koichi#kazuho haneyama#my hero academia vigilantes#my hero academia illegals#vigilantes#mha vigilantes#bnha vigilantes
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A Love That Burns Like the Sun
Their love burns like the sun, seemingly forever until it blinks out. The moments before a star's death are always the strongest though and the older they get, the more they love and love and love.It’s been a long time since Sylvain has drowned in the darkness that was space. Sylvix, Oneshot, Modern AU.
Read on A03 for better quality!
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A Love That Burns Like the Sun
Sylvain’s waiting for his coffee to cool as he watches Felix flit back and forth, his chaotic energy filling the room as he readies for the morning. There’s a piece of toast in one hand and one leg in his trousers as the other tries to pull them over his hips. He trips in his haste, barely catching himself on the kitchen table. Sylvain doesn’t laugh, but he watches the familiar scene fondly, lips quirking into an amused smile as he settles into the hard wooden chair.
The kitchen set is the only thing he’d taken from his parent’s and not because it was theirs; no, his grandmother had left it for them in her will-- them, not him-- as one final fuck you to his father and the way that he deals with gay sons.
Of course, the words his father had used so many years ago had been far more colorful-- so colorful in fact that Sylvain’s grandmother had slapped his father across the back of the head before kicking him out.
“Felix,” Sylvain finally says, “Sit down for a moment. Have some coffee with me.”
Felix pauses. He’s finally shimmied his pants over his hips and there’s a bite out of his toast, his cheeks reddened with his haste. He snatches the food from his mouth to reply with, “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m already going to be late for work.”
“So be late then,” Sylvain tells him with a shrug.
“I can’t--”
“You’re the boss. You can do whatever you want.”
“My students, Sylvain,” Felix bites out. The words aren’t harsh, just punctuated and so very Felix in their tone. He puts a lot of stock into the fencing school and Sylvain loves that about him, he loves how much Felix loves his students.
There’s a but though, as there is with many things.
“How often do we get mornings together, Fe? Just the two of us?” Perhaps it’s a low blow, but Sylvain’s never claimed to be a good person, and judging by the way Felix pauses, it’s worked.
Felix drags a hand down his face, pulling at his skin tiredly. “Syl,” he sighs, eyeing the empty chair across from Sylvain.
“We never had a moment alone, darling.” Sylvain’s lips practically curl around the endearment and he sees the tremble of Felix’s lips. He’s got a retort ready to throw at him, but to Sylvain’s surprise, he drops into the chair instead.
“What’s another ten minutes?”
“Only ten?” Sylvain pouts at that, finally taking a sip of his coffee.
“You’re pushing it,” Felix warns, but it’s all bark and no bite. He reaches for a mug and pours his own coffee, wrapping his fingers around it to warm them. I only drink it black, like my soul, he’d once joked, years and years ago.
Felix had been wrong of course. If anyone had a soul as black as the night, it’d be Sylvain. He only showed his good parts to people, so practiced at wearing a false smile that fooled so easily. And even if it’s gotten better, even if it’s changed over the years, Felix was the only one who’d really ever seen him at his worst and maybe that’s why Sylvain loved him so, so much. He’d seen him amidst those dark moments, pulled him from them without judgement and he’d never left. He was still there, face still cranky and annoyed as ever, but he was still there.
“What?” Felix asks, vexed, and Sylvain realizes that he’d been staring. He’s always staring, really; was Felix just now noticing?
“It’s nothing,” Sylvain promises, flashing him a thin smile and Felix narrows his eyes at him.
“What’s wrong?” There’s a tinge of concern in his voice, just the tiniest bit and it makes Sylvain’s heart practically ache.
“Fe, it’s-- No really, there’s nothing wrong.”
“You were staring,” Felix tells him, concern bleeding into prickliness and as soon as it had come, the man’s worry is seemingly gone.
“Since when have I not stared at you?” Sylvain replies smoothly. Honestly and earnestly, and Felix’s eyes widen slightly as he sputters before turning away to hide the pink dusting across his cheeks. “Flustered even now,” he continues to tease. “Fe, we’ve been married for nearly fifteen years.”
Fifteen years, Sylvain thinks. Incredible and astounding, everyday better than the one before because he gets to wake up with Felix by his side. Their love burns like the sun, seemingly forever until it blinks out. The moments before a star's death are always the strongest though and the older they get, the more they love and love and love.
It’s been a long time since Sylvain has drowned in the darkness that was space.
“Idiot,” Felix mutters, sipping at his mug to stop himself from saying anything else.
“Forever and always.”
There’s a long moment before Felix speaks. “I know you Sylvain. What were you thinking about?” The question is quiet and probing in its approach, but Felix isn’t trying to back him into a corner. He always allows Sylvain to bolt if he wishes.
“Us,” Sylvain answers immediately. Felix blinks, opening his mouth to reply, but Sylvain raises a hand. “Goddess Fe, nothing bad. Just…” His words fail him as he fingers his mug, the warm ceramic a balm across his cold skin. “It hasn’t been easy for us,” he finally says, “But look at us now. I get to wake up with the morning and watch you trip over yourself as you get ready, every day.”
“How mundane,” Felix snorts, dropping his mug back to the table. “What a silly thing to enjoy.”
Waking up every morning next to the love of his life wasn’t something that Sylvain would have thought he’d have, twenty years ago, so he’ll take pleasure in the most mundane of things. Even if it’s as simple as watching Felix trip into his pants, while shoveling breakfast into his mouth.
“I enjoy you,” Sylvain tells him instead, reaching out to grasp at his hand. Felix doesn’t pull away and Sylvain rubs his thumb along the back of his hand. “Stay home today,” he asks. “Call in on your students. Cancel class and laze away the day with me. We can do nothing if you’d like, stuffing ourselves full of snack food and watching shitty romantic comedies.
“Or we could go out, have a picnic or go to a museum. Whatever you want to do.”
“Insatiable,” Felix tells him, but it’s in jest, the closest to telling a joke that he ever comes to.
“You say that like it’s a problem,” Sylvain counters, narrowing his eyes slightly and Felix returns the expression, his own amber eyes practically glowing at the implication. Impulsively, Sylvain places his mug down and reaches forward, grabbing Felix’s chair. He pulls him impossibly close, pressing his fingers into his shirt and pulling tightly--
“Sylvain, you’ll crinkle it--”
He yanks Felix close but doesn’t kiss him, only rubbing their noses in a childish show of affection that has Felix grumbling in response.
“Childish oaf,” Felix chastises, but Sylvain can tell by the hiccup in his breath that he’s not unaffected and resists the urge to further tease him about it. The annoyed tone and burning peach across his nose is plenty enough.
“Have you forgotten what day it is?” Sylvain asks him quietly.
Felix blinks, pulling back slightly to cock his head to the side. It’s not the first time that Sylvain’s remembered something small and silly, holding onto it until he can bring it up later. And really, he doesn’t expect Felix to remember, not really, because Sylvain is the one that’s overly sentimental.
Felix hasn’t put his hair up yet, so Sylvain reaches up and tugs at one of the locks. “It’s the day you said yes.”
Felix looks confused, just like Sylvain knew he’d be. “I said yes in the middle of December,” Felix says seriously, as though he were concerned that Sylvain was losing his damn mind. It’s a tone that he uses more often than Sylvain would like to admit. “I remember because you thought a midnight picnic would be romantic and all I got out of it was a boot full of snow.”
Sylvain frowns at that. “You got a husband out of it.”
“No, I got a husband later on. I remember that because you insisted on a private ceremony at the beach and I spent the entire day with sand in my--”
“It’s the day that you said yes,” Sylvain repeats, pressing his lips to Felix’s cheek in a chaste peck.
“That’s what you said earlier--”
“I’m not talking about the proposal.” Sylvain is quiet when he leans back a little, moving his hand to cup Felix’s cheek instead, thumbing the soft skin and the hard line of his jaw. “I’m talking about--”
“Oh,” Felix breathes. “Oh.”
The night that they never mention, the one where Sylvain spiraled into a drunken panic full of self loathing and regret. The one where an ex-girlfriend dumped a drink all over his lap at the mere sight of him at a club, causing Sylvain to bolt like a coltish fawn before anyone could see the tears of hatred for himself. The night where Sylvain cried and cried and cried, screaming that there was no one, that he’d be forever alone because the one person he actually loved wouldn’t give him the light of day.
The one where Felix grabbed him harshly by the face, pressing their foreheads together and calling him a fool. Where Felix said fucking yes and it was the beginning of the end, but a good change, the best change.
Felix doesn’t like to talk about the night. He’s always been one part embarrassed, one part ashamed about his actions years prior to it, but Sylvain loves that night. He loves that night almost as much as he loves the man before him.
Felix reaches out to grasp Sylvain’s hand gently, squeezing it as he leans forward, pressing their foreheads together like that night so long ago. Sylvain closes his eyes, willing himself to take deep breaths, feeling Felix’s presence before him and soaking it in, taking in the fresh clean soap scent his face. It anchors him, Felix anchors him, he’s always been Sylvain’s roots, ever since they were literally children.
It’s a love that was born with their meeting, carefully crafted over their lifetime until it’s flared into this, into whatever they were, and Sylvain wouldn’t trade the world for Felix.
“I still wonder if you’ll ever settle down,” Sylvain finally. “Every morning is a whirlwind for you.”
“Buffoon,” Felix breathes against him. “Dim-witted fool. I’m here, aren’t I? If that’s not settling down, then I don’t know what is, because only a moron would settle for you.” Sylvain hums at that, smiling into Felix’s hold.
Sylvain pulls back and Felix kisses him, slow and calculated, intent on pulling everything from Sylvain that he can. It’s not like Felix, but Sylvain likes it, he’s into it, he pulls him closer and responds in kind.
“I guess I can play hooky,” Felix murmurs against Sylvain’s lips, fingers reaching up to thread through his hair and scratching at his scalp lightly. “Whatever you want to do,” he finishes.
“I just want to enjoy breakfast with you everyday, forever.”
Felix’s face hardens into annoyance and Sylvain laughs. “Sap,” Felix complains. “Sentimental dolt.” But he doesn’t let go of Sylvain either, fingers still laced together as he reaches for his coffee. The sip he takes is a clear distraction.
Sylvain smiles at him, watching Felix like he’s the sun, squeezing his hand lightly once and then twice. Felix glances back, mug held close to his face as his lips contort into a near snarl. All bark, never any bite; not with Sylvain at least.
But Felix squeezes back and Sylvain files it away, for a rainy day.
Not that he’ll ever need it.
#Sylvix#felix/sylvain#sylvain jose gautier#felix hugo fraldarius#felix and sylvain#fe3h#Fire Emblem Three Houses#fire emblem fanfiction#fanfiction
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A Restarted Tattoo
(A/N: Google Docs says I haven’t touched this since April 27, 2018. Well happy 2/29/2020 babes; I always finish what I start)
Her gut dropped like a stone as Punai looked up at Blackjack.
“Did Dolores send you?”
“No?” Rocked by his calm, quiet tone, Punai continued. “I fucked up.”
“No shit.”
He slipped past her with his laundry, a hiccup in his step either from the ungainly movement or from spotting her go-bag in the hall. But, without a word and without looking back, he continued his way to the stairs as the door to his apartment swung shut behind him.
“What? This isn’t how this is supposed to go-”
“How! How is it supposed to go, Punai?” Blackjack swung around suddenly on the steps, basket clacking loudly on the top of the stairs as he slammed it down. “You say sorry and just waltz back into my life until the next time you get spooked and leave?” Something stretched in his voice at the final word.
“You were gone, Punai. You left for weeks. I didn’t know what I’d done until a week later, when your best friend came by the shop to check whether you were dead. And I. Didn’t. Know. I didn’t think so, but had no way of knowing. You took everything of yours but what you’d acquired since meeting me, so I had no room to think you were coming back. Have you even talked to your best friend?”
“She knows me-”
“Have you ever considered maybe she doesn’t want to?”
Punai rocked back on her heels, as if stunned by an unblockable blow. “What?”
“Do you have any idea how agonizing it is to care about someone who’s doing their level best to keep you at arms distance? Someone only interested in the inane, boring, surface level relationship because otherwise she can’t just pack up and leave when she gets hurt?”
“Oh yeah? It’s not like you’ve let me into all the crooks and ugly things about you!”
“Well funny thing, I can actually admit I should have done that earlier! What do you think the damn key was for?”
She’d hurled it before her mind caught up to her hand.
His face was stone as it clinked on the floor within his grasp, and stone still as she burst forward, skidding on her knees as she scrabbled to pick it back up. Something unreadable shuddered over his face as he tucked the basket on his hip and headed back down the stairs.
“Who’s running now?”
“You don’t get to play that card. Have you looked at your texts?”
“Not ye-”
“Get some damn therapy.”
She growled to herself as she stood up, key clenched in her hand, and she raced down the stairs after him.
“Listen, you ass, it’s not like I expected you to wait around-”
“Oh, no, you did-” he retorted, pushing through to the laundry room. The other occupant took in the oncoming storm and quickly decided to do their reading elsewhere. Blackjack continued, “you obviously expected me to be pining around waiting for you when you finally decided you would deign to officially move in.”
“I needed space! I need air! I can’t just be tied down and stay in one place!”
“What about me makes you think I’d do that to you? Why are you convinced I’m going to try and take away part of your self that is so intrinsic to you? When I say I-” he inhaled “-care about you, I am meaning all of you, you know?”
“That’s not what I’m saying,” Punai replied, anger shrinking into soft hurt.
“But that’s what I’m hearing.”
“Oh.”
A shirt whiffed into the drum of a washing machine. “Yeah.”
Punai took a hesitant step forward as he tossed more clothing in. “What do I need to do? I can promise I won’t vanish again – and I won’t! – but what do I need to prove that? How can I fix this?”
“Well to start- shit!” In turning to face her, hurt boiling over, his hand slipped and tossed detergent down the front of her shirt.
“It’s fine; it’s fine. I have more right upstairs. It shouldn’t stain sitting until I can find a machine-”
“Oh just toss it in.”
“What?”
He was stone, turned away from her to measure out a little more detergent. “Just toss the shirt in. I have a box of your stuff to return, anyway. What’s one more shirt in the pile?” With only a moment’s hesitation, Punai peeled off her shirt and tossed it into the machine, biting her lip as Blackjack suddenly seized her left shoulder. “That’s new. Who- who did the lining? It’s, um, good.”
She glanced at her newest tattoo, the unfinished rose farther down her body mocking her. On the left side of her chest, right above where the curve of her breast began and easily visible above her bra cup, was a playing card - a jack of spades on the top half and a jack of clubs for the bottom. “I probably have her business card somewhere; I got it about a month ago. First mate joked that if I was going to keep drawing it everywhere, I might as well pay someone to draw it on me, so, yeah.” She shrugged – his warm hand on her shoulder staying put. “I am truly, deeply sorry, James. After I gave up panicking I spent so long hating myself, which didn’t help anything, just made me want to hide even more. I know, I know now I should’ve just owned up to my fears and faults and faced them but-”
He pulled her close suddenly. Her face tilted up out of habit, and they gently crashed together – a kiss born of loss and pain, of missing the other and being so close after so long but still so far apart.
“Oh come on!” A basket slammed onto a washing machine to punctuate the exclamation. “Your apartment is literally up some stairs. Have your quarrel and make-up sesh there, not where everyone can see. For Christ’s sake.”
The neighbor angrily shoveled dry clothes into a basket on top of their book as Blackjack peeled himself away from Punai. He pulled off his own shirt and offered it to her, which she accepted mostly to hide the unfinished rose. As she slipped it over her head, he murmured, “I think you should stay somewhere else tonight.”
“What? Where am I going to do that? I don’t have an apartment, much less a bed anywhere.”
“You ought to call Dolores then.”
She raised her eyebrows. “I thought she didn’t want to be my friend, according to you.”
He winced. “I’m sorry; that was unfair of me. Just because it sometimes hurts and you wish it didn’t, doesn’t mean you don’t want to be someone’s friend at all.”
Punai gave him a brief smile. “Apology accepted. Off to dig through my bag for my SIM card so I can call her.”
“You pulled out your SIM card? That’s a little dramatic.”
“Hardly the most dramatic part of what I did.”
Blackjack raised his eyebrows with a tilt of the head to agree as he shut the washing machine and sent it going. He followed her up the stairs to his apartment and her bag sitting outside. As she knelt and began rummaging through her stuff, he slowly unlocked his door and, hesitating, stepped a little inside.
“You might as well bring that inside to look through. Do you want any coffee?”
Punai looked up and met his eyes. “If you’re offering, I’d love some.”
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ch | stevie brewin & GUESS WHO lmao it’s sam sorry
This is your least favourite part. It’s gross, it’s messy, it smells, and it’s just so goddamn tedious.
You wipe your forehead, hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, and kick at the mess on the floor of the motel room.
“Stop. Letting. This. Happen.” Each word is punctuated by a heavy kick and a thud. Your shoulders slump forward in eventual defeat, a long, weary sigh escaping your lips. You swear you can already feel how your muscles are going to ache in the morning, but nobody else is going to clean this mess up for you. Buck up, kiddo. It’s you against… Well, you’re not sure who you’re against yet.
It used to take you six hours to clean up, but now it only takes you four. The cleaning itself is fine; you’re used to this by now and it’s made easier with the new industrial washing machine you have out back. Your knees still hurt and your back still aches after meticulously getting into all the nooks and crannies, but you do this so regularly (down to the minute!) that it barely registers until the morning after.
Your least favourite part, though, is the last part. Before you’re even close to done your shoulders are screaming in agony, a splintering ache that mockingly inches its way up your neck.
You bend down, you push, you pull, you dump. Then you do it all in reverse. By the time you’re done you’re sweating in the midsummer night’s heat, chest heaving with exertion.
“For-- fuck’s sake.”
You take a step back and admire your handiwork. It’ll be a while before grass starts to grow over, but it’s not like it’s grown back in any of the other spots back here. There’s no need to hide what you’re doing out here every Thursday anyway. Everybody already knows. They understand.
Sort of.
Whatever. You push those thoughts from your mind and toss the shovel on top of the fresh dirt. All you want right now is a cold glass of water and a shower. You smell like dirt and copper, and despite your best efforts your hair is a mess of it, too. (Nevermind your clothes, but that’s what the industrial washer is for, remember?)
A moon seems to blink down at you from the sky and in an act of defiance that would baffle naive onlookers you give it the finger and a foul expression. The night’s first breeze blows past with the sound of a mocking chuckle coming from somewhere in the distance. You shake your head and mutter, “If only I could fuckin’ sleep…” on your way back inside.
Your room here at the motel is just within reach when you hear the unfamiliar sound of a car door slamming shut. It makes you flinch and slowly turn. Nobody ever stops here. Nobody ever stays here. Not since the murder anyway.
Who the fuck could it be?
Your mind runs through a number of names and faces, but the person standing in the parking lot wearing sunglasses in the dead of night is entirely unfamiliar.
Shaking a hand through your hair and wiping away the dirt from your hands and face off on your shirt, you call out, “H-Hi there. Hi. Can I help you?”
Sunglasses stares at you - or maybe past you; it’s difficult to tell with, you know, the glasses on - and the moment drags on and on and you’re already thinking of excuses about your appearance, but he eventually says, “Uh. Yeah. You work here? I need a room.”
You stare at him open-mouthed. A nervous skittering arcs up your spine and your eyes dance around your surroundings, waiting for the punchline to this joke.
You wait, he waits.
Then you say, a little shakily, “Sure. Yeah. Let me grab you a key.”
#my writing*#au | still unnamed horror thing#oc | stevie brewin#oc | sam wright#the beginning of my horror thing ....... ik it's short but it's not supposed to be a lot#or make sense really lmao
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Fairy Tale Retellings, Little Red Riding Hood: Rouge, Part Four
Part One- Part Two- Part Three
A falling leaf brushed her ear. “Hurry,” it whispered. It landed on the sandy road and scuttled away.
Poivre twisted her head to see the oaks and willows and birches wearing their golden autumn crowns. She placed her hand against a birch, its white stem and inky markings so like her own.
Another leaf fell. It rested in the crook of her neck for a moment, its tip stroking her cheek like a dry finger. “Hurry, Poivre,” it murmured, before whirling out of her reach, skipping over the road and into the bracken.
“I’ll hurry. It’s not much further,” she said.
“Then hurry,” the trees sang.
She took another step.
***
She was out in the fields when Colette came to her.
Her sister was running, her long braid dancing around her, soft and supple like a snake. Her cheeks were red. “Poivre!”
Poivre straightened and tucked a lock of her own colourless hair behind her ear. “What is it?”
“Come quick!” Colette grabbed her arm and pulled her along. “There’s a fairy, and I think he and papa are going to come to blows over you!”
“What do you mean, they’re fighting over me? And what fairy?” she asked her sister.
“There’s a fairy that says he’s going to marry you and take you away, but papa won’t let him,” Colette panted.
Wolfsbane?!
“I’ll finish here for you,” Colette offered.
Poivre gave her a grateful nod, bunched her skirts up with her hands, and ran, the corn stroking her bare legs, whispering encouragements. Her heart hammered in her chest. Sweat trickled down her back, causing her dress to chafe and rub. For once, though, she hardly felt the prickle of her skin, its insistent stinging.
Jean stood in front of the farm, four other men from the village behind him. One had a shovel, another a gun. The two others had cudgels.
Wolfsbane was only a couple of feet away from the men, his hands balled into fists, his head held high. “Sir, I…” he started.
“Get off my property, and never come near Poivre again. I won’t ask another time, you filthy fairy,” Jean snarled, pushing up his sleeves, showing his arms corded with muscle.
Wolfsbane went crimson. He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Very well, sir. Just know that I intend to marry Poivre. I prefer to do it with your permission, but it won’t stop me if you refuse.”
“Wolfsbane!” Poivre cried out.
He turned to her, golden eyes sparkling. He smiled, and took a step towards her, but Gustave blocked his way, stroking his cudgel lovingly. “Not so fast, fairy,” he said.
“Don’t be an idiot, Gustave,” Poivre panted. She pressed a hand against her chest. Her heart was beating painfully fast.
Wolfsbane stretched his hand towards her, tried to walk past Gustave, but the other man shoved his chest, pushing him back. Wolfsbane narrowed his eyes, upper lip curling into a snarl.
“You heard Jean. He wants you gone, and you’re not to take the fairy girl with you,” Gustave whispered.
“And go I shall, but I’m taking Poivre with me.”
Her heart pitter-pattered in her chest. Her eyes burned with emotion. “Wolfsbane…”
“You’re not taking anyone with you. Poivre belongs to this village,” Jean said, cracking his knuckles. The sound was loud, like a gunshot.
“She’s not an object!” Wolfsbane snarled.
“Look at him, totally smitten with slivering, slithering Poivre,” Gustave snarled. He turned his head to Pierre, the man with the gun. “Doesn’t it just make you want to retch?” They started to laugh, high and sharp and horrible, like magpies.
“Do they rut together, do you think?” Pierre asked.
Jean gagged.
“Don’t talk about me as if I’m not here.” She’d meant to scream it, but her mouth had become parched, and it came out as a hushed whisper.
“Do you?” Gustave asked, poking Wolfsbane with his wooden stick. “Do you rut with her? Do you do it like dogs do, or like lizards?” He almost smashed the end of his cudgel against Wolfsbane’s ribs, causing the fairy to grunt in pain. “I bet that’s the sound you make when you’re ploughing her field,” Gustave sneered.
Poivre balled her hands into fists. Something inside her twisted and curled. I’m going to hit him, she thought, and marched towards Gustave, hands balled into tremulous fists.
Wolfsbane was faster, though. His fist connected with Gustave’s stomach. The man grunted and doubled over, allowing Wolfsbane to punch his face with his other hand. Gustave’s cudgel clattered to the ground. He dropped to his knees only seconds later.
Wolfsbane grabbed his throat with his left hand. He’d barred his teeth. His canines were sharp and almost impossibly white, flashing in the autumn light. “Talk about her like that again and you’re a dead man,” he whispered. Magic curled inside his mouth, dark and twisting like a black ribbon. “Pray tell me: do you prefer to be a dog, or a lizard?”
“Wolfsbane, no!” Poivre yelled. Her cry was punctuated by a gunshot.
The bullet hit Wolfsbane in the shoulder, ripping straight through his muscles, exiting on the other side with a spray of blood. Wolfsbane tilted his head, as if listening to a strain of melody only he could hear. Then, he collapsed, falling almost on Gustave. The magic died in his mouth. He exhaled, a shudder racking his body. The spell fell between his teeth like a dead thing, and curled up and disappeared before hitting the ground.
“What have you done?!” Poivre screamed. She turned to Pierre. She’d rip his throat out with her bare hands. She’d smash his face in with her boots. She’d…
Wolfsbane tried to stand. He doubled over and coughed. Blood so dark it seemed black dripped holes in the sand.
“Iron bullet,” Pierre said.
“Best thing against fairies,” Jean said. “Just finish him, will you?”
“I only had one bullet.”
“You don’t shoot vermin; you crush it,” Gustave rasped. He got to his feet, reaching for his cudgel, murder written in his eyes.
“Wolfsbane, run!”
She launched herself at Gustave, nails catching the soft flesh of his cheek and ripping it. He howled and swung his stick at her. She ducked and kicked against his ankle, causing him to hit the ground again. She stepped on his hand holding the cudgel, stomped on his fingers till she heard them snap like twigs. Gustave screamed, but she wasn’t done yet.
She looked over her shoulder. Wolfsbane was making his way towards the woods, Jean on his heels. Were they talking? Maybe they were, but she couldn’t hear anything but her own heart thumping.
He’ll never make it, she thought. But if he makes it, he’s safe. He can go to grand-maman. Humans don’t go into the forest; only members of the Fair Folk dare to.
“You bitch!” Gustave moaned, palm rubbing past her cheek as he reached for her hair. He wound his fingers in her short tresses and yanked. She screamed as pain ripped through her scalp, then rammed her elbow against Gustave’s stomach. He let go, air escaping his lungs in a soft sigh.
They’ve murdered Wolfsbane, she thought as she sat down on Gustave’s chest. They’ve murdered the love of my life. Her fist connected with Gustave’s face. His nose cracked. Blood poured from his nostrils. It was obscenely red against her white hands, and warm, too. Her hands were slick with it as she hit him again, her fingers slipping on his bronzed skin.
Someone pulled her away. She screamed and struggled, but the hands around her arms and legs were hard like iron, hard like stone.
“We can’t hurt her. What would the village do without a fairy?” Pierre grunted.
“Put her in the basement. It has a lock,” Jean said.
“What about that other fairy?”
Jean set his jaw. “He’s gone into the forest. I daren’t follow. Not alone, at any rate. We’ll go after him later, with a dozen men.”
She twisted and clawed at his face. She aimed for his eyes, but scratched his nose instead. He yelped and raised a hand to slap her, then lowered it. “This village might need a fairy,” he hissed, “but that fairy doesn’t need to have two working legs. Do it again and I’ll break one for you.”
“You’ve murdered him!” she howled. “You’ve murdered him you’ve murdered him you’ve murdered him…”
They dragged her to the farm and brought her inside. She held on to the doorframe, but Gustave came with murder written in his eyes, raising his cudgel to bring it down on her hands. She let go, then, allowing the men to drag her through the living room, towards the basement.
“You’re dead men,” she sobbed. If only she’d been taught how to do proper magic by grand-maman…
They threw her in. Poivre tumbled down the stairs, each step another blow against her ribs, her back, her skull. She landed on the floor in a tangle of limbs and skirts, the taste of pennies in her mouth. The soft click of the lock didn’t stop her from crawling up and hammering against the door. She put her hand around the handle, but it was iron, and she had to pull away or risk her skin blistering and melting.
“Amélie would twist in her grave!” she screamed.
“You shut up, or I’ll come in and make you!” Jean hollered back.
She rested her head against the thick wood. “I won’t do anything for you,” she said. “When I get out of here…”
“When you get out of there, your little bed-fellow will be nothing but ashes and bones,” Gustave said, words strange and twisted. Had she split his lip, or had Wolfsbane done it?
She sobbed again, and buried her face in her hands.
Oh, Wolfsbane, why did you ever come back?
***
Later, when her throat was raw from screaming and her nails had broken on the unforgiving wood of the door, the lock clicked again.
The sounds beyond had stilled a while ago. The men who had gathered at the farm had drunken cheap wine and beer to give themselves courage, and had either fallen asleep or left for the forest. Poivre prayed for the former, but feared the latter.
The door swung open, the hinges moaning.
Poivre flew at the person on the threshold, her teeth bared. Her hands had closed around the slender neck before she realised who it was.
Colette stared at her with huge eyes, her skin chalky white. “It’s only me,” she whispered.
Poivre let her sister go and slumped down against the wall, another sob racking through her body. “Why are you here?” she asked.
Colette sat down next to her and draped her arms around her, kissing her pale hair. “I couldn’t come before, but now, they’ve all gone to the forest, to grand-maman. They said they’re hunting a fairy. They said you’ve lost your mind. Father Gabriel is with them. He said they must purge the forest of sin.”
Poivre laughed. It sounded bitter and hollow, not like her at all. “They’re going to murder him.”
“They must find him, first.” Colette pulled Poivre’s hands from her face and forced her to look at her. “They’ve gone into the forest now that it’s still light. They’re scared. They don’t know the way. But you, you’ve gone into the forest dozens of times…”
If I find him before they do…
Colette stood and brushed the dust from her skirt. She pulled Poivre up and out of the basement, into the living room. The table was littered with empty mugs and bottles. A basket with a red cloth stood in the centre. Colette took the basket in her arms and pushed the cloth away, revealing what was inside. “You must take it and never come back, even if you don’t find that fairy in time.”
Poivre narrowed her eyes into slits. “Why are you doing this?”
Colette looked up at her. Her eyes were moist. A tear dripped down her round cheek. “Because you are my sister.”
Poivre pulled her into a hug. Her bones were sore from her fight and the tumble down the stairs, but she took their complaining as an encouragement to embrace Colette harder. “You’re the only one I will miss from this place, you and grand-maman,” she whispered.
“Just… just don’t hurt papa, please?”
Poivre let go and took the basket in her hand. It was heavy. She put it in the crook of her elbow, testing its weight.
“Please,” Colette pleaded, taking Poivre’s dry hand in her own.
“I’ll do my best, but only because you’ve asked me,” Poivre said slowly.
Colette helped her in her red coat, buttoning it up as if Poivre was a child.
Poivre kissed her sister’s knuckles. Then, she pulled her hand back and went to the kitchen, slipping a knife in her basket.
Colette was crying in soft, tired sobs.
For a moment, Poivre thought about going back to the living room and comforting her, but Wolfsbane had been shot with iron, and there were men hunting him. He needed her more than her sister had ever needed her.
She looked at the bottle of wine in her basket, at the slices of fae bread and cheese wrapped lovingly by her sister of more than twenty years.
She’s my past, but Wolfsbane is my future.
She left the farm behind her without looking back.
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Cupid’s Bow (m)
Written for this request for first time with Jimin
Synopsis: when your pact with Jimin to lose your virginity by the end of Valentine’s Day fails, the two of you decide to just lose it to each other...
Warning: Graphic smut
Word Count: 8,357
You're halfway through The Notebook— right at the iconic kiss scene in the rain, when your phone rings. You curse the person stupid enough to call you at such an important moment as you dive to press pause before you spoil the moment. Checking to make sure the screen stays frozen, you pick up your phone.
"What?" You growl, irritated by the interruption.
"Hey, ___, are you home right now?"
You identify the voice as your best friend's, "Yeah. What do you want, Jimin?"
"Can I come over?"
"What right now? Aren't you at the club with Namjoon?"
"Yeah, but it didn't go very well," his pout is nearly audible on the other end, "Please let me sleep over?"
You glance around the room, taking in the half-eaten boxes of chocolate and the enormous heart-shaped cake on the coffee table with unease, "I'm a bit busy right now, Jimin."
"Oh? Am I interrupting something? ___-ah, did you actually get laid?!"
"What?" Heat rises in your cheeks, "No! Of course not. What would make you think that?"
"Well, if you're not getting laid, then I don't see how you can be so busy."
"I-I… I just am!"
"Well, too bad, because I'm right outside!" He sings into the cell phone.
A loud banging on the door punctuates his sentence. You curse loudly to yourself as you slam down your phone and march over to the front door and wrench it open. You glare at the sight of him in a festive outfit of bright red pants and suspenders, with his loose white shirt sticking to him with sweat, "What was the point of calling if you were just going to show up uninvited anyways?"
"It's because I knew you were going to—" Jimin abruptly freezes, mid-sentence, as he takes in what you're wearing for the first time. His eyes widen comically as he scans you from head to toe, "___, is that a dress?"
"Yeah?" you angrily cock a hip in your tight leather mini-dress, "So what?"
"Nothing. I just never see you dressed up… You look nice."
You stiffen immediately, waiting for him to start laughing. But he never does. Confused, you step aside in the doorway, "Hurry and get inside," you gruffly say, "You're letting the cold air in."
Jimin scrambles to do as you instruct, shutting the door behind him and stepping out of his shoes, "Whoa," he pauses in the living room, "That's quite a collection of desserts you've got there."
You glare at him, "Shut up. Do you want cake or not?"
"Yes, please!" He happily totters after you, "Where's Minah?" He asks as he plops down on the sofa.
"She's out," you say as you cut into the heart-shaped red velvet cake the same garish color as Jimin's ridiculous pants.
He frowns at that answer, "Wait, did you leave your roommate at the club?"
"No!" you exclaim in horror, "What kind of friend do you think I am?"
"Well, if she's not at the club, then where is she?" He asks, scratching his head in confusion.
You pause to concentrate on balancing the cake on the knife and sliding it onto a plate, "With her boyfriend," you finally mumble.
"What?" His frown deepens, "Junhyung is here?"
"Yeah. Apparently he flew all night to get here on time… They have a hotel room in the city, and I bet you we won't be hearing a peep from her until Monday morning when she comes limping home."
Jimin shudders at the mental images, "Ugh, gross."
"That's not the worst part… for the next month, this is all she'll be able to talk about until I blow my brains out," you grumble, slapping the plate of cake on his lap.
"Then you should've gone out and gotten yourself laid to show her up," Jimin exclaims, "Look at how you're dressed! There must have been at least one guy interested in you. Maybe even two!"
You snort at the absurdity of his words, "Wow, you sure know how to make my heart flutter," you sarcastically say before grabbing the bottle of wine off the coffee table and taking a hearty swing without bothering to pour a glass, "We never even made it to the club."
"Wait, really? But look at you! It looks like you've even brushed your hair for once," he marvels.
"Yeah, do you know how much a blowout costs on Valentine's Day? I basically had to sell a kidney on the black market… but one step out of the apartment, and we run smack into stupid Junhyung with an absurd amount of roses in his arms… Minah was so happy, of course I had to let her go. But it would've been so embarrassing for me to go to the club by myself, so I figured that eating an entire cake in front of the TV was a more enjoyable way to spend my Valentine's Day," you retort as you shovel cake from his plate into your mouth.
"You should've just called me," Jimin complains, "I told you that Namjoon and I were going to the club! You could've met up with us instead."
"Yeah, but I didn't want to cockblock you guys."
"Cockblock? You would've been doing me a favor," he insists, "Namjoon is a terrible wingman."
"Really?" You ask in interest, "Oh yeah, how are you getting back from your night out so early?"
"Because of hyung!" He exclaims in anger, "He is truly vile."
You quirk an eyebrow, "He stole your girl, didn't he?"
"Third time this year, and it's barely February!" Jimin rages, "So I was dancing with these two girls and chatting them up for nearly the entire night, while hyung was at the bar getting plastered. And I was really hitting things off with the blonde one! She was dancing with me and getting a bit handsy."
"She was getting handsy?" you repeat in confusion.
"Yeah! I think it's these pants! Girls couldn't stop slapping my ass all night," he explains, jumping to his feet and turning around to model his tight pants for you.
"Oh my," you clap hands over your reddening cheeks to hide your blush. You can see every curve of his thighs and ass under the stretchy red fabric. You squeeze your eyes shut to will away the sexy images that flood your mind. You can definitely understand why so many girls were obsessed with his ass. You're so tempted to give him a little slap to see if his muscles are as steely as they look, but you catch yourself in time and chug another mouthful of wine to bite back temptation.
Luckily, Jimin is too absorbed in his own anger to notice your discomfort, "So anyways! I was talking to this hot blonde all night, and I really thought it could happen with her! She kept batting her eyelashes and licking her lips… That means that she wanted me to kiss her, right?"
"Yup, you should've gone for it, dumbass," you quip as you swallow down the wine, relishing the heady burn in your stomach.
"Ugh, I know!" He groans, raking his hands through his messy hair. Your eyes catch on the action before you look away. "I'm just so rusty. I waited too long. And before I could make a move, stupid Namjoon-hyung swooped in with his stupid ugly dimples and it was game over."
You choke back a laugh at that description, "Alright, so maybe he stole the hot blonde. But you really can't be too picky in a situation like this. What about her friend?"
"No chance with her… She was a lesbian," he dully mutters.
You raise an eyebrow, "Jiminnie, sweetie. Just because a girl rejects you, doesn't mean she's a lesbian," you gently inform him.
"What? No, obviously! But this girl was seriously a lesbian."
"Wait, really?"
"Yeah. I thought it was an excuse to blow me off… Until half an hour later… I was chatting up a different girl… And then she comes swooping in and starts dancing with her… Which was totally cool with me, because I thought—" He abruptly stops, mid-sentence, and blushes.
"What did you think?" You ask in curiosity.
But his gaze drops to his lap, "Nothing," he mumbles.
Then it hits you-
"Oh God!" You shriek in amusement, "Park Jimin, did you actually think…?"
"No!" He yells in embarrassment, "Of course not!"
"Liar!" You yell back, "You thought they'd invite you to a threesome?!"
His face reddens so much that he turns the exact same shade as his crimson pants, "No! Of course not!"
But you've already collapsed to the ground, howling with laughter, "You pervert!" you choke out between fits of laughter.
His blush spreads down below the collar of his flimsy white shirt, "Ugh, I knew I shouldn't have come here," he groans, rising to his feet.
"No wait," you wipe the tears from your eyes and grab his sleeve before he leave, "I'm sorry for laughing at you… but you have to admit that it's kind of funny."
"Speak for yourself," Jimin huffs, plopping back down onto the couch next to you, "You're all dressed up just to sit at home and eat cake."
"How did we fail our mission so hard, Jiminnie?" You sigh deeply, "Lose our virginities by the end of Valentine's Day… Well, at least our roommates got lucky."
"Hey, at least I tried," he shoots back, "You made no effort, whatsoever! Do you enjoy being a virgin?"
"No, but I had no choice!" you defend yourself, "Minah ditched me. What was I supposed to do?"
"Have you looked in a mirror today?" Jimin yells in frustration, "Do you not see the way you look? You could've just stepped outside, and there'd be guys lining up. This is just sheer laziness, ___-ah!"
Flustered by his half-compliment, half-insult, you're unsure how to respond, "I… I'm sorry?"
He simply scoffs and shovels another bite of cake into his mouth, "You should be. What club were you and Minah planning on going to, anyways?"
"That new place on the other side of campus," you explain, "You know, the hiphop one?"
"What? Seriously? That was the club Namjoon and I were at just an hour ago! Oh, come on, ___. If you just left the house, you would've ran into us!" He groans.
You can't help but laugh at the irony of the whole situation, "I'm so sorry, Jimin. Is it too late to go back?"
"Yeah," he pouts, "It was such a sausage fest when I left. I bet it's even worse now."
"Ooh, sausage fest?" You perk up, "That sounds like my type of party."
"Well… I guess if you really want a wingman, we can go back…" he reluctantly offers.
You think about it for a millisecond before cringing, "Nah. Let's just sit here and eat away our feelings," you say, solemnly saluting him with a fork.
He laughs as he playfully mimics your gesture. You shove the forkful of cake in your mouth and hit play on the remote. The two of you are quiet for a few seconds, watching Allie and Noah yell at each other in thoughtful silence.
"Do you know what's weird to think about?" You muse, interrupting the silence.
Jimin glances from the TV over to you, "What?"
"If we didn't know each other and met at the club…" You muse, tapping your bottom lip in curiosity.
"You mean if we didn't go to high school together? And were just strangers?"
"Yeah. We both like hiphop, so we would've ran into each other at the club eventually… Isn't that weird to think about?"
His face settles into a frown, "Yeah that is…"
"Do you think we would've gotten along?" you anxiously ask, trying to stifle your nerves with a swallow of wine.
"Probably not," he admits.
"What?" You exclaim, thoroughly offended.
He laughs at your expression, "I mean, we probably wouldn't have met in the first place."
You cross your arms over your chest, "What do you mean?" you icily ask.
"Don't get mad," he chuckles, reaching over to pat your knee, "I just don't think that I would have ever approached you."
"Oh? Is that so?" you angrily shove his hand away, "I see… Well, screw you too, Park Jimin."
"What? No, that's not what I mean," he backtracks in alarm, "I would have never approached you, because you're so out of my league."
Shock chokes off your voice, and tense silence envelopes the room. "Wh-what?" you manage to sputter out.
Jimin nervously rubs the back of his neck, "Isn't it obvious? I mean look at you," he wildly gestures at your tight minidress, "I'm not stupid. I know there's no way you would look twice at me if we weren't already friends, so why bother?"
Your jaw drops, "Jimin, are you serious right now?"
He blushes, "I'm just being honest here."
"That makes no sense!" You angrily protest, "How am I out of your league when you're literally the sexiest guy I've ever laid eyes on?"
Jimin falls deathly silent at that, his eyes opened wide eyes to pop from his skull. Embarrassment floods your system and the fact that Allie and Noah are now aggressively making out in the rain in the background makes it all the worse. If you could rewind time and take it all back, you'd do it in a heartbeat. Instead, you settle for ducking your head to hide the hot flush that's overcome your features, and will the ground to open up and swallow you whole.
"Y-you think… You think I'm sexy?" Jimin chokes out, interrupting the tense silence.
You ignore him and pour as much wine into your glass as it can possibly contain.
"Wait, ___," He says, grabbing your wrist before you can drown yourself in alcohol, "Do you really mean that?"
The two of you fight for control of the wine glass for a few seconds before you relent to his superior strength with a deep sigh, "It's not my personal feelings, per say," you nervously stammer, "But it's just a fact of life! Grass is green, Park Jimin is sexy. Obviously."
You're too embarrassed to look at him after your confession, but you can feel the warmth from his beam even from where you're sitting.
"So… just hypothetically speaking… if we were complete strangers meeting for the first time at the club… Would you have…?"
"Yes," is your instant response before you have a chance to think about what you're saying.
"I-I didn't have a chance to finish my question," Jimin stutters, rubbing the back of his neck.
You swallow hard, "What were you going to say?"
"I was just wondering… Would you have…" He pauses to lick his lips, and the wet sound frazzles your nerves, "Would you have gone home with me?"
You twist your hands in the material of your dress, "My answer is still the same."
"You mean that as a joke, right?" Jimin asks, nervously awaiting the punchline, "You mean you felt this way before you got to know my personality?"
There's a beat of tense silence. It's not too late for you to laugh this off and go back to the way things were before this whole mess… But maybe it's the alcohol running through your system, or this entire absurd situation, but for some reason, you find yourself admitting the truth with a miniscule shake of your head.
"Good lord," Jimin chokes out when he processes the meaning of that seemingly insignificant action.
Then neither of you can speak.
The two of you have always been friends. For years, since the early, budding days of high school. Just friends. Jimin had been dating another girl when you first met in Freshman year of high school. By the time they'd split up, you were already in a long term relationship that would last until college. The timing just never matched up. You never stood a chance. And, as a result, you have never let your thoughts wander. Never let yourself fantasize about the what-ifs or what-could-have-beens… until now.
"___," Jimin whispers your name, breaking you from your reverie, "You know… we don't have to both fail our missions tonight… We could… we could help each other."
The breathless, smoky quality of his voice rattles you to your core. You rub your hands over your bare arms as you consider your answer. This could ruin things with one of your dearest friends… But you've shoved your feelings down and repressed yourself for long enough. You want this. You've wanted this for so long. And now that he's offering it to you… Damn right you're going to take it.
"I think… I think that's a good idea."
Another stretch of silence. You stare determinedly at your lap, but can't help but notice the way Jimin's hands clench into fists at his sides.
"This isn't because you're drunk right now, is it?"
You laugh humorlessly, "I wish I was," you admit, "Fuck, I think I need another drink right now…"
But Jimin swoops in to pull the glass from your hand before you can bring it to your lips, "Don't," he says as he pushes it across the table, far away from your reach, "I don't want you to be drunk for this. I want you to be able to—" Then, he stops and blushes, as though remembering what the two of you were about to do.
Your eyes narrow in on the way his lips quiver before he sinks his teeth into the plush skin. His front teeth leave little white marks in his bottom lip before he drags them away, leaving swollen redness in his wake. You can't look away from the delicate curve of his cupid's bow. His upper lip is just as full as his bottom one, forming a perfect heart shape when his lips purse slightly from nerves. The curve of his upper lip tightens, then, as though loosening an arrow from that perfectly shaped cupid's bow to shoot straight to your heart. Your whole body jolts forward in response, making you crush your lips to his.
There's a moment of agonizing immobility where you hover there in awkward silence, waiting for him to respond. Barely a second passes before insecurity cripples you and you move to break the kiss, determined to walk straight out the room and off the balcony to moderate the embarrassment.
Jimin weaves his fingers through your hair and deepens the kiss before you can walk off the edge of the earth in utter humiliation. You're so mesmerized by the softness of his billowy lips on your own that you don't notice how strange it is to be kissing someone who is supposed to be just a friend. But then his hand slides up your knee and the reality of the whole situation comes crashing back down on you.
You break the kiss with a little gasp and immediately train your eyes down at your lap, unable to look at him as your cheeks fill with color. You just kissed Park Jimin. Your friend, Park Jimin. There's really no going back from this…
But…
Since you've already ruined your friendship irreparably… You glance at him from under your eyelashes. Might as well make it worth it.
This time when you kiss him, Jimin reacts straight away, cupping a hand on your cheek to guide you closer. And when he touches your leg again, you force yourself to remain immobile, even when his hand begins to creep under your dress.
"Is this okay?" he breaks the kiss to rest his forehead against yours and look into your eyes.
You nod and angle your body so he has better access to your legs. And when his hand begins to move again, you squeeze your eyes shut, paranoid that he'll see straight through you to all your deepest fears and insecurities. But you can't ask him to stop. You can't when you want this so badly you could die.
"How far have you gone before?" Jimin asks as he slowly trails kisses down the line of your jaw.
You bite your lip at the combination of the uncomfortable question and the even more nerve-wracking feeling of his tongue on your pulse point. "S-second base," you admit in a choked voice, "I've gone as far as second base… What about you?"
Jimin doesn't respond for a second, taking his time in sucking a hickey below your ear before responding, "Third base."
Your eyes widen as the meaning behind that statement dawns upon you. "You… you mean you've gone as far as—oh god… giving or receiving?"
When he glances up at you, there's a slightly sheepish look on his face, "Both," he confesses.
Your stomach plummets. So you're the only actually inexperienced one here… What have you gotten yourself into? "Oh," is your simple response.
But Jimin catches onto the look of distress on your face and quickly grabs your hand before you can shy away, "But it doesn't matter to me. I don't care that you don't have much experience. In fact I can…" he stops to blush and awkwardly card a hand through his hair, "I can teach you, if you'd like."
Your heart stutters, "Jimin… I… I would like that."
He sucks a breath between his teeth, "Ok…" And then, to your surprise, he suddenly drops to his knees, kneeling before you on the floor with his face mere inches from your stomach.
You jerk back with a squeal and protectively curl your knees to your belly, "Ah, Jimin, what are you doing?!"
He blinks up at you in confusion, "I thought… I thought you wanted me to teach you?"
You can't respond for a moment, trying to slow the rapid pitter patter of your racing heart at the very thought of him doing what he was about to do to you... Jimin is seriously the hottest guy you have ever laid eyes on and the thought of him seeing you naked… and touching you. A chill of disgust runs down your spine. No. You're definitely not ready for that… But on the other hand… There is something you definitely are ready for.
Jimin dejectedly rises to his feet and twists his hands together, "I am really sorry if I came on too strong or pressured you to do something you aren't comfortable with. This is my fault."
You shake your head at the absurdity of his words and grab his hand to quickly yank him back down on the couch next to you, "No, that's not what I meant," you hurriedly explain, anxiously safeguarding the one and only chance you'll ever get with him, "I just… I wanted to touch you first… Jimin, will you teach me?"
The subsequent look of wide-eyed awe on his face is just short of comical. He swallows so hard that you can see his Adam's apple bobbing up and down in his throat before he finally responds, "Y-yes of course," he stammers.
You smile in relief and lean over to quickly kiss his lips, then trailing your kisses lower to the hollow of his throat. You take your time licking and nipping the tender skin before glancing up at him for approval, "Jimin… Is this okay?" you ask as your fingers ghost over the first button of his sheer white shirt.
He swallows again before nodding and unhooking his suspenders to allow you better access. Still, it's a bit awkward and you have to rise to your knees on the couch cushions in order to reach the buttons. The thought that it'd be much easier if you just swung your legs over his lap and straddled him flits across your mind, but you hastily repress it, beyond mortified by the very idea. Instead, you twist your body and uncomfortably lean over to undo the rest of the buttons. Finally, you reach the last one and pause for a second before pushing his shirt apart. Then you freeze.
"What the fuck, Jimin?!"
He jumps in surprise and instantly tries to cover his naked torso, embarrassed, "What, is something wrong?"
You groan and shove his hands out of the way so you can ogle at him more, "This is so unfair," you complain, "I seriously thought you were squishy like me. Why didn't you tell me you were so fucking buff?"
Jimin's fair cheeks redden at the unexpected praise and he buries his face in his hands, but you can tell that he's smiling, "Ah, you should've seen me last year. I've don't have abs anymore."
"Really? Then what the hell are these?!" You angrily demand, running a hand over the muscled ridges of his stomach. God, he's so fucking hot. You're practically drooling at this point, and it takes full concentration to keep from jumping him.
Jimin simply laughs into his hands, clearly pleased but too embarrassed to say anything. You take that as an opportunity to continue to explore the hard expanse of his torso. You feel like quite the pervert as you hungrily grope and pet at him, as though trying to eat him whole. After a minute of silence, guilt weighs heavy on your conscience, and you make to pull away, but then Jimin moans.
You freeze at the sound. Could such a hoarse, guttural noise have come from your pretty little friend?! It's by far the most delicious noise that has ever graced your ears—deep and musical and so genuine that it makes your toes curl. You would do anything to hear that sound again. As though possessed, you find yourself dropping to your knees in front of him and sliding your hands down his stomach to his waist, "Jimin," you breathlessly whisper his name.
He gasps when your hands dip too low and he quickly catches them with his own, "Ah, stop, ___... I think I should do this myself."
You open your mouth to protest when you notice how red Jimin's become. His cheeks are almost the same shade of crimson as his pants and he can't make eye contact anymore. You nod your agreement. Jimin gulps before carefully unbuttoning his pants and pulling down the zipper with utmost care. Your mouth waters at the sight of the silky black fabric peeking from his open fly. Oh, how you're dying for just one little taste.
Jimin pauses for a moment, then grits his teeth and sits up to pull his pants down to his knees, then kicks them off each ankle. And then he's left sitting there in only his thin black boxers. Neither of you can speak for a moment.
You're too busy admiring him from head to toe that you don't notice his uneasiness. He looks as picturesque as a bronzed statue come to life before you, every feature sculpted with the utmost care and his golden skin so hot under your touch that you feel like you're melting. All of this for your first time… How did you get so lucky?
You swallow tightly as you run your fingertips up and down his densely muscled thighs, "Jimin," you whisper as you creep a hand up a leg of his boxers, "Can you take these off?"
He still can't bear to look at you, so he nods at the ground before courageously hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and slowly dragging them down. And then you're eye to eye with the first naked man you've ever seen in the flesh… And quite possibly the most attractive one.
You have no idea what you had been expecting. He was always just a platonic friend. So you've never thought much about what his penis would look like… Consequently, you're alarmed by the sheer size and intensity of his swollen red dick.
His manhood looks nothing like what you would've imagined for the soft boy. He is so thick and hard that it looks like an iron rod is pointed straight at you. And his cock is so flushed with blood that the head has turned a violent shade of red.
"___."
The sound of your name breaks you out of your reverie, and you quickly snap your hanging jaw shut, suddenly aware of the fact that you've been gawking at him like he's sprouted a third limb. You're scared out of your wits, but there's no way you're going to let your fears mess things up. You want this too badly.
"Jimin… Can I touch you?"
"Y-yes. Please."
That last word crumbles your resistance. Before you know what you're doing, you reach out and wrap a hand around his erection. A strangled moan catches your attention. You glance up to watch Jimin throw his head back, lips parted and brow furrowed. Your mouth waters and you can't help but give him another stroke.
"Ah!"
This makes you stop at once, alarmed by the volume of his outburst, "Jimin, are you okay?"
He hastily nods and reaches down to yank your hand back in motion, "Yes, yes, just don't stop."
His pace is quicker and rougher than yours, harshly tugging your hand up and down his hardness until he's sure you won't stop. Then he pulls his hand away from yours to grab his own hair instead.
You're bewildered by the hard pace he's set. The skin of his cock is unbelievably soft beneath your hand, and you can't imagine that your rough motions feel good. But he's moaning so loud, helplessly writhing against the couch and dragging his hands through his mussed hair as thick beads of liquid leak from his tip and smooth the motions of your hands. You lick your lips, trying to ignore the sudden tightness in your groin, and increase the speed of your pumps.
You're just getting into the rhythm of things, figuring out the perfect pace that wrings the loudest moans from his beautiful throat, when Jimin's hands suddenly shoot out to grab yours, "Ah, stop, ___. You're gonna make me come," he says with a nervous, breathless chuckle.
You allow him to peel your hands off of him in confusion, "Already?"
Jimin's jaw drops in shock, "What did you just say?"
Realization suddenly hits you about how insulting your comment might have been perceived, "Oh no, I didn't mean that!" You rush to defend yourself, "I meant… Well I just… I wanted to try other things too!"
"Oh…? Like what?"
"I just thought… I thought you were going to teach me how to suck you off."
Jimin doesn't say anything for a few seconds and simply gawks at you with eyes as wide as saucers. Then, he abruptly breaks eye contact with a groan, a hand darting down to squeeze around the base of his cock as tightly as he can.
You blink at the strange sight, "Jimin, are you okay?"
"No, I'm not," he growls and he applies more pressure to his angry red dick, "You almost made me come again. Fucking hell!"
"Huh?… oh." Pride suddenly blooms in your chest, warming you from the inside out. You can't help but giggle at the tortured look on his face, "Let me suck you off!"
He shakes his head, "No way."
"Pleaseee?" You whine, playfully sticking your tongue and leaning down to try to lick him.
Jimin is a bit sluggish with arousal and doesn't push you back in time before you've managed to flick your tongue over the leaking head of his cock. A violent shudder courses down the length of his spine. He digs his nails hard into the palm of his hand and it takes nearly ten seconds of harsh breathing before he can speak again, "Fuck it, ___-ah!" He curses, "I almost came again! Can you please calm the fuck down?!"
You burst into laughter at the look of utter distress on his face, "I thought you were supposed to be the experienced one, Jiminnie," you tease, even as you run your tongue over your lips and consider the taste of his pre-cum. It's warm and unpleasantly bitter on your taste buds, but you'd happily swallow every drop he's got to offer if he continues to make those beautiful noises.
He flushes beet-red in response, "It's… it's been a long time since I've done anything, ok?"
You pause at that, "When was the last time anyone's touched you like this?"
"Um… Two years ago? Maybe three?"
"Oh," your eyes widen, "It's been that long?"
He sheepishly rubs the back of his neck, "Yeah… Which is why I want to make this last."
You smile and kindly massage his tensed thighs, "It's okay, Jiminnie. Take as long as you need. Just let me know when you feel better so I can suck you off… Would you prefer to come in my mouth? Or maybe my chest?" You ask, frowning when you remember a handful of those sleazy porn videos you've sneakily studied in the past.
But Jimin adamantly shakes his head, "No."
You blink in confusion, "Oh… Do you want to come on my face then? …or my feet?"
"What? No! No to all of those, what the hell?"
You purse your lips shut before you can accidentally reveal the weird porn you've watched.
"___, the only place I'm cumming is inside of you."
Your mouth forms a perfect "O" in surprise at his unexpected burst of dominance, "O-oh-kay."
Jimin stares at you with hopeful eyes, "So is it okay?"
"Yes, of course! Please hurry and take my virginity."
His eyes darken at once. Then, he's shooting to his feet, "Condom," he whispers, "Fuck, do you have a condom?"
"Shouldn't you have one?" you shoot back in astonishment, "I thought all you horny kids carried one in your wallet!"
"I don't know, I just don't. Please tell me you have one, ___..."
The slight tremble in his voice gives away his desperation. You bite your lip in sympathy, "Maybe Minah does? Hold on… Let me check."
Jimin grabs his erection with a whimper as he watches you scurry away. You can feel the heat of his gaze on the back of your heat, no doubt staring at you with pleading puppy dog eyes as you burst into Minah's room to search through her drawers. You sigh in relief when you find a giant box of them in the top drawer. Clearly she's well prepared for Junhyung.
Trying not to dwell on the unpleasant thoughts of your roommate's sex life, you grab a fistful of condoms, then rush back into the living room. Jimin is visibly relieved at the sight of you, "Oh thank god."
"Never have I thought I'd ever be grateful for Minah's active sex life…" you murmur as you immediately begin tearing through one packet.
"I'll buy her new ones," Jimin says, impatiently watching you struggle with the wrapper, "Fuck, I'll buy her anything she fucking wants if you just get it on right now."
You eye him in amusement, "Jimin, you've waited twenty-one years for this. Can't you wait another minute?"
"I really can't," he whines, "I feel like I'm going to die. Please hurry, ___."
"This would've been quicker if you had a condom, Jimin," you lightly chastise him as you finally rip the wrapper with your teeth and throw the foil across the room, "In fact… Wait a minute—why didn't you have a condom?"
"I just didn't have one," he impatiently brushes you off as he pulls the condom from your hands to roll it on himself. His eyes roll back at the feeling of even his own hand on his achingly hard length, and the sight is almost enough to distract you. Almost, but not quite.
"Wait… Jimin… This makes no sense… If you knew you were going to lose your virginity tonight… Why didn't you bring a condom?"
"Huh? Oh that? Um… I don't know. Guess I just forgot. Come on, ___," he pressures, reaching for the zipper on the back of your dress.
You shake your head and step out of his grasp. Your mind is running a thousand miles a minute and you need a moment to think. Jimin isn't the type to just forget about such things. Especially not something as critical as potential STDs or pregnancies. The Park Jimin you know brings flashlights and first aid kits even to strolls through the park. How could he not bring protection to a one-night stand with a stranger?
And then it hits you—
"Oh my god… You weren't actually serious about losing your virginity!"
"What?" Jimin glares at you in irritation as he angrily strokes his neglected erection, "I am dead serious. Take that damned dress off and I'll show you how serious I am…"
You don't say anything as you continue to stare at him with huge eyes. You know that you're making him antsy, but you can't bring yourself to move as a hurricane of thoughts continue to churn in your mind. He hadn't been planning on following through on your virginity pact from the get go. Which means… The story of the hot blonde and Namjoon and the lesbians… It must have been exaggerated. He wasn't serious from the start.
But then why is he here with you right now? He's clearly very prepared to lose his virginity to you. There's no way he could be pretending. His hard cock, flushed a brilliant shade of crimson at this point, is testament to that. He was not willing to fuck a random girl in a club… but he is for you? That can only mean—
"Oh, Jimin," you gasp, breaking from your trance to launch yourself at him.
He groans under the force of your attack, but quickly adjusts, eagerly sitting straighter to allow you to straddle his hips and angling his face to deepen your frantic kiss. He wants you. Not some random girl in the club. Not just anyone, but you.
You pull away briefly to claw at the zipper at the middle of your back, but you can't quite reach in your position on his lap, "Jimin," you groan, "Take it off of me."
He doesn't have to be told twice. Before you even finish your sentence, his hands are clasped on your back and with a hard tug, your dress is completely unzipped, falling apart in his hands. He anxiously tugs at the hem and you relent, pulling the entire garment over your head and revealing that you've forgone a bra.
"Fuck, you’re so beautiful," he croaks, hands instantly darting forward as though to touch you before he remembers his manners, "___-ah… Can I-?"
You giggle and grab his hands to fold onto your chest, "You don't have to ask."
His hands instantly squeeze your breasts, and then it's your turn to moan. "Ah, ___, you're so fucking hot," he groans as he brushes his thumbs over your nipples, "God, I could spend all day just touching you like this… But not right now… I'm really sorry, baby. But I don't think I can wait any longer."
You blink through the haze of pleasure clouding your brain to look down at him, and you nearly choke on your own spit at what you see. Jimin is drenched in sweat, his soft brown hair pushed off his forehead as he pants for breath. His blown pupils crowd the irises, engulfing them with such dark hunger that your mouth waters.
Jimin whimpers then, breaking you from your thoughts as his trembling fingers dig into the flesh of your hips, "Please, ___. I need you."
That snaps you back into it. You scramble to position yourself so fast that you nearly fall over on the sofa. Jimin quickly positions you on your back and clambers on top of you. His chest sticks to your with sweat and he's breathing so hard that his pants rattle your frame. "Are you ready?" he asks in a hoarse voice as he shoves your underwear down your thighs.
You eagerly nod your head. You've never been so ready in your entire life. You lift your hips off the couch to kick your panties off your legs, and then you're entirely naked before him. Jimin is too desperate to properly admire you in your naked glory. Instead, he murmurs a short apology before lining himself up with your entrance and slowly pushing in.
Your heart is pounding in your chest at the uncomfortable stretching sensation. It took a good second for Jimin to pop his thick head into your narrow entrance, but after that initial pain, the discomfort seemed to dissipate. In fact, Jimin seems a hundred times more uncomfortable, quivering like a leaf above you, his entire face twisted in agony.
"Fuck," he curses when he eases himself halfway through. Then, his hips jolt forward by instinct, cramming the last few inches inside of you in one go.
Pain flashes through your system, making you clench up with a shout as your body tries to physically push this alien item out of you.
"Shit, shit, shit," Jimin curses, "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry. It just… it feels so fucking good," he says, practically whining the last part, "You are so fucking wet and tight and—ugh. This is the best thing I've ever felt, ___-ah."
You smile tightly at him, "I'm glad, Jimin."
He groans again, panting from the effort it takes to hold still inside of you, "I wish I could show you how good this feels."
He looks so hot right now that you can't bring yourself to care about your own pleasure. Just making him feel this good makes your heart fill with joy. You reach up to lovingly wipe a bead of sweat from his forehead, "I think you can move now, if you want."
Jimin's eyes widen in shock. Then he's abruptly pulling out to plunge himself back into you. You wince, but it doesn't hurt as much as the first time. Jimin sets a shaky, non-rhythmic pace, too disoriented by the foreign pleasure to hold himself back. It doesn't exactly hurt, but discomfort blossoms in your chest with every thrust forward. Instead, you try to focus solely on Jimin's face, and how beautiful he looks with his eyes squeezed shut and his forehead furrowed deeply from the pleasure.
"Oh my god," he gasps, "Holy fucking shit, ___!"
"That's it, Jimin," you encourage him, soothingly raking your nails down his sweaty back, "Just let it go."
The brunette boy catches his bottom lip between his teeth, biting down hard to bruise as his hips stutter uncontrollably. It only takes another minute, and then he's grabbing your hips with a cry of your name, spilling into the condom. He rides out his high with a deep, guttural groan, and barely has the energy to remove the spoiled condom and toss it before he collapses on top of you, utterly worn out.
You giggle at his intense reaction and stroke his sweaty hair out of his face, "That was quick," you tease.
He snaps his head up from where he's buried your face in your shoulder to flash you an expression of utmost indignation, "___!"
You laugh and playfully lean up to peck his swollen lips, "It's ok! It's to be expected for your first time."
He blushes at the reminder, "How are you, by the way? Did it hurt a lot?" he asks, eyebrows knitting together in concern.
You shake your head and smile, "No, don't worry. It didn't hurt as much as I thought it would."
He smiles back at you, "I'm glad."
"…and besides, it was only like two minutes of pain anyways."
"___!" He shouts your name in embarrassment, "Ugh! It wasn't that quick, was it?!"
You kindly pat his cheek, "Maybe like three minutes, max?"
A hot crimson blush threatens to overwhelm his milky skin as he ducks his head into your neck in utter humiliation, "You don't understand how good it feels, ___-ah," he complains, "It's seriously the best thing ever! You wouldn't last three minutes either!"
You laugh in response, "I'm sure I wouldn't, Jiminie."
His eyes flash, and before you know what's happening, Jimin has your ankles clasped in both hands, then shoves your legs apart with no preamble. "Jimin!" you shriek in surprise, "What are you— oh fuck!"
Jimin chuckles at your reaction and licks you again, boldly stroking his thick tongue up your slit to circle your clit, "Ten bucks says you won't last two minutes," he teases.
You open your mouth to hotly protest, but at that second, his plush lips encircle your sensitive, untouched clit, and then he begins sucking. Your hips arch straight off the couch with a shout of his name. Oh god. What the hell is this feeling? How can anything feel so fucking amazing?
You've masturbated before, both with your hands and toys, but nothing can compare to the delicious, slick motions of his tongue on your clit. It feels like electricity is collecting through your veins to burst in the pit of your stomach. You've never felt such intense pleasure before in your entire life, and it's almost frightening.
"Jimin!" You cry out his name, over and over on repeat, "Oh god. Jimin, please!"
Your thighs tremble uncontrollably around his head as you barely fight the need to lock your legs around his head. Jimin simply laughs, causing incredible vibrations against your mound, before he suddenly pushes two fingers inside of you. You've already been stretched out by his dick, so the intrusion of his fingers feels amazing. Like the hole in your core that you didn't realize you had is finally being filled up.
And then Jimin crooks his fingers upwards, hitting that one little spot, and suddenly you can't breathe at all.
"Oh my fucking god!" you curse, eyes rolling to the back of your head as the first orgasm anyone has ever given you smashes into you with the brute force of a semi-truck. This time, you can't resist curling your legs around Jimin's head as you messily grind against the heat of his mouth, inundated with such pleasure that you can't speak.
It feels like an eternity before the waves of your orgasm finally dissipate. You sigh deeply in satisfaction and loosen the cage of your thighs from around Jimin's head. He pops up from between your legs a second later, drenched in your juices and laughing his ass off.
"That took probably less than a minute!" He exclaims in delight.
Your jaw drops in astonishment, "No way! That was at least three minutes! …right?"
Jimin giggles and leans down to kiss you, "It's okay, baby. We'll get better with practice…"
You peer at him from under your eyelashes, "You're saying that as though there will be a next time…"
Jimin jerks up in alarm, wide eyes staring down at you imploringly, "Won't there be?"
You take a second to squeeze your eyes shut and pray for strength. You have to say this now, or else you'll forever regret it, "Well, you can at least buy me dinner first before trying to get into my pants again, you horndog." You purposefully keep your tone as light and teasing as possible, but underneath your cool façade, you're wracked by nerves.
To make matters worse, Jimin doesn't respond for a minute and simply stares at you with unreadable dark eyes. As the seconds slip by, your anxiety builds and builds until you can't take it anymore. You're just about to open your mouth and tell him that you're just kidding and that you're perfectly fine keeping your relationship platonic, when Jimin suddenly bursts into loud, borderline hysterical full-bellied laughter.
You stare at him in shock as he laughs so hard that his eyes crinkle to crescent shapes and he doubles over to clutch his stomach. Anger bubbles up your throat. You rise to shove his still-naked body off of yours in humiliation, but he suddenly grabs your face in both hands, stealing away your attention.
"If I knew that this would be all it'd take to convince you to date me, I would've propositioned you years ago."
You frown at his handsome, smiling face for a few seconds, unable to process his cryptic words. And then realization finally comes settling in. "Oh."
Jimin is beaming so brightly at this point that it almost hurts your sensitive eyes to stare at him straight on. He is positively glowing. You've never seen anyone so beautiful before and you can't help but grin back.
"Sushi or pasta?" He asks, breaking your reverie.
"Huh?"
"Sushi or pasta?" he repeats, raising an eyebrow at your confused expression, "I need to know what you prefer so I know where to take you for our first date."
"Oh!" And then you're smiling so hard that your cheeks hurt, "Sushi."
"Sushi? Great choice. Okay. I'll pick you up tomorrow at seven then."
But to his surprise, you shake your head, "No."
"No? What's a good time for you then?"
"Right now," you coyly smile, "Let's have our first date right now and order take out to recover our energy… and then maybe… round two? Let's try to make it past three minutes this time, Jiminie," you say with a playful flick of his nose.
Jimin reddens at the snide remark, but can't help laughing, "Girl, I'm setting a timer this time… It's more impressive if you can make it to a full minute."
Your jaw drops in indignation, but before you can shoot back a retort, Jimin abruptly disentangles his limbs from yours and springs to his feet, "Ok I'm calling the restaurant now!"
"You little shit!" You yell after him as you watch him dash across the room for his phone, "Take that back!"
But he simply sticks his tongue out at you as he dials in the number, "Make me!"
You stare at his still-naked figure as your filthy mind conjures all the ways you could make him... How did you go from a night of sad solo drinking on your couch in front of The Notebook, to this? Best. Valentine's Day. Ever.
Author’s Note: So I started this fic in feb 2016... Luckily seeing sexy ass brunette Jimin during the Wings Tour yesterday completely reignited my interest in this fic. I hope you enjoyed it, and please do not ask me about sequels :)
#bts scenarios#bts scenario#jimin scenarios#jimin smut#bts smut#noonanet#chimichanga#AKLSDJFKLSDFJK IT'S FINALLY HERE AFTER OVER A YEAR
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Roleplay Server Log #234
“Raptor Rescue Fin, Ashe Runs Away From Home”
[Sweet Alex] Is happily baking with her door and all her windows open.
[GK] Is loafing on her porch and making small talk with his head inside her door and his tail in her garden.
[Sweet Alex] Throws him a cookie and laughs as he snaps it up -
[Ashe] Goes walking by grumpily-
[Sweet Alex] Spots him outside - Ashe?
[GK] Pulls his head out of the doorway- Hey kiddo! Why so pouty?
[Ashe] - Because I'm running away
[GK] Oookay.
[Sweet Alex] Puts her hands on her hips- That's a silly thing to do. There are all kinds of monsters who'd love to take a crack at a little unprotected dragon.
[GK] Yeah, and you're not preped to rough it at all. You need at least some armor and a weapon.
[Ashe] - I don't care!
[Gk] Uses a paw to scoot him closer- You should. This is a survival game. It's dangerous-
[Sweet Alex] Comes outside- Why do you want to run away sweetheart?
[Ashe] - Because Mama doesn't even care for me anymore. She's all about helping Willow and Oak!- He tries scooching away from GK
[GK] That's bullshit. Your mama loves you tons. Nether she tried to snap TLOT's head off just for getting too close when you were a baby.
[Ashe] Huffs- I don't care! She won't even read with me anymore...
[Sweet Alex] Do you want her too? Your reading comprehension is very high. I'd think you'd get bored from someone reading too you.
[Ashe] - But reading time is something we always did! Just the two of us! After Willow and Oak would fall asleep...
[GK] Did ya tell her that?
[Ashe] - No. She won't listen...
[Sweet Alex] Wouldn't listen? What did she say?
[Ashe] Grumbles- Didn't tell her...
[GK] Then that doesn't mean she didn't listen. I think you're just jelous of Willow and Oak.
[Sweet alex] You have to understand Ashe, you're a big kid, she's trusting you to act responsible. She knows you're smart and don't have to be watched every second. Willow and Oak aren't there yet. It's a full-time job keeping them out of trouble.
[Ashe] - I DON'T CARE!- The end of his yell is punctuated by a burst of void energy
[Gk] Sneezes at the weird energy-
[Sweet Alex] You just did something your mom has done for you so many times Ashe. Only big ender dragons can share energy like that.
[Ashe] Growls and turns away from them, determined to continue running away-
[Gk] Grabs Ashe with his hooves- Don't you go off all half-cocked like that. I bet your mama's worried sick about you.
[Ashe] - LET GO!
[Gk] Nope. What's it gonna take kiddo? Just gonna go hide in the woods and say fuck you to everybody? Trust me, that's a shitty way to live your life.
[Ashe] - No! I'm gonna go across the bridge!
[Sweet Alex] You have friends, people who care about you. Don't run away.
[Ashe] - Mama doesn't care anymore
[Gk] That ain't true.
[Sweet Alex] She's probably looking for you right now, worried like crazy.
[Ashe] - If she were then she would have called out by now! But she hasn't! Because she's too busy with Willow and Oak!
[Gk] Fine. We'll do this your way. Alex?
[Sweet Alex] Is running around shutting the windows and packing her inventory. - I'm on it.
[GK] Grabs Ashe by the scruff and plunks him on the bigger dragon's back-
[Sweet Alex] Runs up and jumps on a fat part of Gk's tail - ready!
[Gk] Downsweeps his wings powerfully and flies the opposite direction of the bridge and down the coastline
[Ashe] - Where are we going?
[Gk] It doesn't matter. I thought you wanted to run away?
-The ground rushes under them and the coastline gives way to heavy woods and then more plains-
[Ashe] Huffs-
[Gk] Finds a decent clearing in the woods and lets his passengers slide off sideways- Okay. Let's see what you got. We need wood. Get punching-
[Ashe] - But we're dragons!
[Gk] Then knock em down, if you can.
[Ashe] - But we don't need it! We need a cave!
[Gk] Caves have mobs. Do you feel like fighting to clear one out?
[Ashe] - No...
[Gk] Then- Gestures at the trees.
[Ashe] Groans but does start throwing himself at the trees-
[Sweet Alex] Pulls out a pick and whispers to Gk- Aren't you being a little hard on him?
[Gk] He wanted to rough it. We're camping.
[Ashe] Grunts as nothing is happening yet-
[Sweet Alex] Picks the ground out a bit to get some stone. Watching him from the corners of her eyes-
[Ashe] Finally gets a wood block to break- There! I got wood!
[Gk] Hears a bit of mooing and whips out his tail to smash the cow before gathering up the meat - You need more then one Ashe-
[Ashe] Whines-
[Sweet Alex] Stops what she's doing to swat a tree, the blocks break easily under her blows and she makes a quick crafting table before plunking it down-
[Ashe] Starts throwing himself against the tree again-
[Sweet Alex] Makes a quick shovel and starts clearing away the dirt in a square and piling it up to make walls. The end result is a dirt hut that's partway into the ground.
[Gk] Is pacing back and forth in the trees and manages to kill two more cows- Better hurry kid, it'll be dark soon.
[Ashe] Grumbles and manages to break a second block-
-the sky is getting a rather rosy pink-
[Sweet Alex] Finds a little patch of coal in the lowered floor and wrings six torches out of it with a little left over
[Ashe] Is still working on knocking out a third block of wood-
[Ashe] - Uncle GG! It won't break!
[Gk] Shifts down into his Herobrine shape and walks over. - That's cause you're doing it wrong. Do it like this- He hauls back and punches the chunk of wood out of place with a vicious right hook-
[Ashe] Grumbles but does shift to his human form-
[Gk] Shows him how to punch the blocks out most easily-
[Ashe] Only goes to the bottom of the leaves before moving towards the next tree-
-Theres a bit of groaning and clattering from the woods-
[Sweet Alex] sticks a torch by the doorway - Get inside! The suns going down!
[Ashe] Notices a few endermen and chitters at them-
[Gk] Come on dammit- Pulls his clothing-
[Ashe] Folds arms and huffs as he's dragged-
[Gk] Gets him inside and down the one step to the lowered floor.
[Sweet Alex] closes the opening with a dirt block and a single torch to fill the remaining hole
[Ashe] Is looking at the blocks in his hands-
[Sweet Alex] Can I have some of those?
[Ashe] - Hm? Okay
[Sweet Alex] Has already put togeather a crafting table and uses it to make a furnace before feeding it some of the wood.
[Gk] Gives her the steaks and she adds those in as well. Giving him a pat on the head.
[Ashe] - So what do we sleep on?
[Sweet Alex] Pulls out a cloak and wraps it around her shoulders- The floor, if you can, there weren't any sheep today.
[Ashe] - The floor?
[Gk] Pulls out the bit of hot meat and shares it with them-
[Ashe] Chews on it-
[Sweet Alex] I doubt I'll be able to sleep but it's okay. I've waited out the monsters plenty of times.
[Gk] quietly- And even invited a few of them in...
[Sweet Alex] Oh shush.
[Ashe] - It's not big enough in here for our dragon forms...
[Gk] Nope. One day isn't enough for that kind of build. - He leans up against the wall and draws up his knees. - I've had worse.
[Ashe] Pouts-
-Outside theres a lot of noise as the woods come alive with clattering skeletons, hissing spiders and creepers and the moans of zombies-
[Gk] Time for the night shift to clock in.
[Sweet Alex] Huddles down and tries to ignore the noise.
[Ashe] - I'm cold!
[Sweet Alex] Opens her cloak like a wing - come sit next to me-
[Ashe] Hurries over-
[Sweet Alex] Wraps him up next to her and puts her arm around him. Her hearts are beating a little quickly at the volume of monster noises outside-
[Ashe] - At least the endermen are nice...
[Gk] Maybe to you...
[Ashe] - No, mama's told her children not to hurt any of the humans or brines
[Gk] Yeah, but these guys are natural spawns for this seed. There are far more wild Endermen here then there are of the ones your mom brought with her.
[Ashe] Curls up a bit more-
-A bit of a cold breeze blows through the open hole and carries the distant laughter of a witch-
[Gk] Starts to snore a little-
[Ashe] - Uncle GG is loud...
[Sweet Alex] Yawns- Well he does have rather tiny nostrils as a human...
[Ashe] Snuggles in a bit more-
-A spider crawls up on top of the shelter and explores the edges, peeping inside but unable to see past the light of the torch or get into the small hole.
[Ashe] Gives off a small puff of void energy towards the arachnid-
[Spider] Is confused and repelled and goes away hissing-
[Ashe] Takes his goggles off to rub at his eyes-
[Sweet Alex] Rubs his shoulder to try and comfort him a bit-
[Ashe] Leans against her and tries to fall asleep-
-The night passes slowly and the mobs make their rounds. As it starts to get light Gk stirs and cusses because his neck is sore-
[Ashe] Wakes up and squints- Uncle GG?
[Gk] Yeah?
[Ashe] - What now?
[Gk] You're gonna ask me? Alex is the expert.
[Sweet Alex] Wakes up as well. - We need seeds, and water. Ore for tools.
[Ashe] Fumbles around for his goggles-
[Sweet Alex] Unbuckles her cloak so she can just stand up without uncovering Ashe- I'll dig. You two forage.
[Gk] Walks outside and there's a preganant pause and then an explosion that takes out a corner of the shelter- YOU MOTHER-FUCKER!
[Ashe] Jumps and hears a tinkling as his goggles break from the shock wave of the creeper-
[Sweet Alex] GK! Are you injured?!
[Gk] Fuck no! Just mad as hell! - He's sitting in the middle of a small crater
[Ashe] - Uncle GG? I think my goggles broke...
[Gk] Ah fuck....
[Ashe] Is kinda able to see the exit and so heads for it-
[Gk] Climbs out of the hole and holds up his hands so Ashe doesn't fall in-
[Ashe] Makes some clicking noises-
[Sweet Alex] You sound like a bat.
[Ashe] - It helps...
[Sweet Alex] Hmm. Well, do what you need too. - She takes out a stone pick and climbs down into the creeper hole - I'll start digging here. You got a decent head start-
[Gk] Fucking creepers....
[Ashe] Where do we go Uncle GG?
[Gk] Well, we should cut down all this grass before we go anywhere. and keep your ears open for animal noises-
[Ashe] - Okay- Swats just above the grass
[Gk] Just swing a bit lower and you'll have it.
[Ashe] Does so and is rewarded with grass breaking-
[Gk] Good. Make sure you're picking up the seeds. - He's looking for any movement in the woods and not having any luck-
[Ashe] Keeps clicking to help him navigate-
[Sweet Alex] Can be heard industriously picking away.
[Gk] Damn my shitty luck. Alex? Give me some of that stone! I'll fix the shelter-
[Sweet Alex] Obliges, and Gk gets to work laying blocks in the gap-
[Ashe] Wanders a bit deeper into the trees-
[Gk] Finishes and then looks around for Ashe-
[Ashe] Isn't visible-
[Gk] fuuuck....
[Sweet Alex] What is it?
[Gk] Nothing! -He darts off into the trees to look for Ashe-
[Ashe] Sniffs the air, smelling endermen and starts heading towards them, shifting into his dragon form-
[Gk] Is marking his trail with cobble blocks and sniffing around for the baby dragon-
-There's two ender amongst the tree's just wandering around as Ashe approaches. The two begin hissing at the dragon-
[Ashe] Pauses, tilting his head curiously at the noise, he's beginning to realize these are not his mother's endermen-
[Gk] Also smells the endermen and runs faster towards the faint scent-
-The endermen lunge at Ashe, scratching at his scales and ripping a few from his body-
[Ashe] Tumbles backwards with a yelp, flapping his wings trying to buffet the endermen back-
[Gk] Hears the commotion and bursts into the clearing with a fireball in each hand-
[Ashe] Recognizes the blue blur and races for it-
[Gk] Does a flying leap over Ashe and mashes the fireballs into the endermen's open mouths with a wild yell-
-The endermen scatter, teleporting while on fire-
[Ashe] Is whimpering-
[Gk] runs back to him- What were you doing?! I told you these ones weren't friendly!
[Ashe] - But... But... They smelled similar
[Gk] It doesn't matter! You want to call me your uncle, you should listen to me! Just because two things are similar doesn't mean they're the same!
[Ashe] - I'm sorry...
[Gk] Hugs his neck. - I am too. Stay close to me kid. It's too dangerous a world to just wander off with your head in the clouds. Change back to human and I'll carry you.
[Ashe] - Okay- He shifts back
[Gk] Hefts the kid in a fireman's carry and takes him back to the clearing. - Alex?!
[Sweet Alex] Pops up like a mole- What happened?
[Ashe] Sniffs a little-
[Gk] He got scratched up by some wild enders.
[Sweet Alex] There's some meat left. You take it- Offers him the food-
[Ashe] Quietly- Thank you- He starts eating the meat
[Gk] Puts him down gently- I'm going hunting, you stay here. We don't have much time and I don't want to go to bed hungry-
[Ashe] Just nods-
[Sweet Alex] Ashe, you can keep me company then, just climb down a little so I can see you from where I'm working-
[Ashe] Tentatively gets to the edge of the hole and drops himself down a couple of blocks-
[Sweet Alex] Goes at the wall with the stone pick and bits of rock dust chunk away around her in scattered pixels-
[Ashe] Clicks, pauses, and then clicks again- Alex?
[Sweet Alex] Yes?
[Ashe] Something over there is different...
[Sweet Alex] Looks - There's some gravel?
[Ashe] - Oh, it sounds different when it comes back
[Sweet Alex] So those noises are giving you some kind of range and density information?
[Ashe] - I think so...
[Sweet Alex] Puts her ear to the wall where the gravel is - I think there's a pocket here...
[Ashe] - A cavern?
[Sweet Alex] Maybe a small one. I hear water- She goes after the gravel and clears it away, as the last block explodes, an arrow flies out of the dark hole and pings off the cavern wall beside her- With a yelp she draws a stone sword and flattens to the wall-
[Skeleton] Pokes it's head into the muted light of the tunnel -
[Sweet Alex] Goes at it with the sword and keeps bashing until it poofs to bones-
[Ashe] Is a bit confused and doesn't want to get to close because of the water-
[Sweet Alex] Well... I can use the bones at least. - She pokes her head into the hole and sticks up a torch. - Ah, it's just a small pool of water.
[Ashe] - I don't like water...- Doesn't notice the clouds beginning to gather overhead
[Sweet Alex] Gives me an idea actually- She climbs out and goes inside the rebuilt shelter for a moment, remerging with a stone hoe and a handful of bone meal - Let me have those seeds.
[Ashe] Tosses a flower out instead-
[Sweet Alex] That's pretty, but not what I need- She's tilling the ground as she talks-
[Ashe] - Sorry- He digs around a bit and manages to toss out the seeds
[Sweet Alex] Bangs the seeds into the ground and used the bone meal to grow them into wheat. She knocks the wheat out with a practiced swipe and puts the remainging seeds back down- Come on Ashe. I'll show you how to make bread-
-The clouds gather heavy and dark overhead-
[Ashe] - Down there?
[Sweet Alex] Takes his hand and helps him down the step inside the doorway- I hope Gk gets back soon.
[Ashe] - My eyes are starting to hurt...
[Sweet Alex] Then I'll narrate. Just close your eyes.
-Outside it's getting dark enough for the mobs to come back out_
[Sweet Alex] Explains what she's doing and then puts a dirtblock with a torch in the doorway again. It clear she's worried about Gk.
[Ashe] Fumbles a bit and puts the wheat in a v shape-
[Sweet Alex] Keeps glancing at the doorway as it gets darker. She's helping Ashe along and soon the bread is made-
[Ashe] - I did it!
[Sweet Alex] Good! It's always handy to know how to cook. -She passes him a loaf of warm bread. - Enjoy. You earned it.
[Ashe] Takes a big bite and then speaks with a mouth full- Where's Uncle GG?
[Sweet Alex] I don't know... He said he was going hunting. - her belly gives a little growl and she eats some bread herself, saving a loaf for the brine.
[Ashe] - We should go look for him!
-there's a crash of thunder outside and the heavens open. The rain pours down heavy and pings off the partly stone ceiling-
[Ashe] Backs away from the opening with a whimper-
[Sweet Alex] Gk is strong. And water doesn't hurt him. We'll wait for him here- She sits down on the floor and opens her cloak for him again- Just sit with me. I'm cold.
[Ashe] Sits down next to her- I don't like how we still don't have beds...
[Sweet Alex] We need to find some sheep first.
[Ashe] - Miss Lie has some!
[Sweet Alex] I thought you said you wanted to run away?
[Ashe] Makes unsure noise-
-There's a frightening noise from outside, like someone choking a zombie and a heafty thump on the wall-
[Ashe] Jumps a little-
-There's a bit of light in the doorway and Sweet Alex reaches for her sword as something swats the blocks away-
[Ashe] Squints at the blurry figure-
[Gk] Stumbles into the little pool of light and slams the blocks back down- Fucking mobs!
[Ashe] - UNCLE GG!
[Gk] Don't hug me kid, I'm soaked to the bone-
[Ashe] - Okay...
[Sweet Alex] Did you have any luck? You were gone for a long time-
[Gk] I wasted my time chasing a chicken and then an ocelot beat me too it. I got some eggs though. Is there any food?
[Sweet Alex] Just bread- Offers the loaf-
[Gk] Thank you. - He eats it with gusto and plops down on the floor-
[Ashe] Draws his knees up to his chest- I miss my bed...- The unspoken part being that he misses his family to
[Gk] Just gives him a knowing look-
[Ashe] Sniffles again-
[Sweet Alex] Snuggles him close-
[Ashe] - I... I think I wanna go home...
[Gk] You sure kid?
[Ashe] Nods-
[Sweet Alex] You're not going to run away any more?
[Ashe] - No...
[Gk] You got a good life Ashe. Your mom loves you and so do your siblings. You're lucky. And I hope you got some respect now for all the Alex's and Steve's that do this shit all the damn time.
[Ashe] - Yes Uncle GG...
[Gk] Good.
[Sweet Alex] I want to make sure you get home safely. We'll have to wait for the rain to stop, and GK to dry off.
[Ashe] - Okay- He curls in a bit closer to Sweet Alex- I hope Mama isn't to mad...
[Gk] Takes a bunch of the wood and stuffs it in the furnace, and then adds cobbles so they'll cook back to stone. The flames from the transistion heat the small room a bit.
[Sweet Alex] I think she'll just be glad to have you back.
[Endrea] Has been flying non-stop looking for Ashe since she realized he was missing. She left Willow and Oak with Alexsezia and has been flying since the rain started. Not caring about the small sores forming on her because of the water. She flying worried circles as she tries to figure out where Ashe might be-
[Endrea] Finally getting exhausted nearly crashes into the large tree as she lands above where Doc and the others are-
[Doc] Hears the thump and looks up in concern- Endrea?
[Endrea] Lashes her tail about a bit- Have you seen Ashe?
[Doc] No? Is something wrong?
[Endrea] - I can't find him, I've been looking for at least a day
[Lie] - Calm down Endrea, and please come down here, it's raining and I can see your sores
[Doc] Pokes a bit more out from under Deerheart's wing- Come down here and I'll give you a dry pill. That looks pretty bad. Between me and Deerheart we should be able to find him-
[Endrea] Climbs down, her wings drooped from exhaustion-
[Deer] - Oh Endrea. Where are Willow and Oak?
[Endrea] - With Alexsezia
[Doc] Scuttles out from under Deerheart's wing and puts three of the pills in Endrea's mouth- Just swallow.
[Endrea] Does swallow- Please, I don't know where he is... And not all the enders on this seed obey me...
[Doc] Rocks back like a gopher and turns on hir pinpoint. Xe swings hir head back and forth with hir eyes closed and ends up pointing northwest- He's that way, and actually coming closer at a much faster rate then he could fly on his own...
[Endrea] Perks and immediately rushes in that direction-
[Deer] - Endrea wait! You're exhausted, if you push yourself any farther...
[Doc] Grabs Endrea's tail and pulls her up short-
[Endrea] - But my child...
[GK] Comes into view with Ashe and Sweet Alex on his back-
[Endrea] - ASHE!
[Ashe] Ducks a bit in shame-
[Gk] Lands with a clatter of hooves and kneels so his riders can get off safely-
[Sweet Alex] looks dirty and tired-
[Doc] what the heck happened to you guys?
[Ashe] - Mama...
[Endrea] Leaps at them and whisks Ashe off of GK, wrapping herself around her child, nuzzling him and making certain he is okay-
[Gk] Somebody was determined to run away from home. Said his mama was too busy with his little brother and sister, and didn't love him anymore...
[Doc] That's ridiculious!
[Lie] - Took the words right out of my mouth Doc
[Endrea] Is busy cleaning Ashe-
[Doc] So where were you?!
[Gk] Nowhere. Middle of. We did some survival.
[jewel] every child has their moments
[Sweet Alex] Leans on Deerheart's side- Anyone have any food? I'm beat.
[Doc] Sheesh... I do Alex. Here- Xe offers a sandwich and Alex takes it gratefully.
[Ashe] Whimpers as Endrea licks a spot where one of his scales had been pulled out-
[Endrea] - Your scales, what happened?
[Ashe] - Not nice endermen...
[Endrea] - Oh Ashe- She nuzzles him, careful to avoid the tender spots as she cleans a bit more of him
[Gk] Loafs to watch-
[Doc] Gets a pill for him too- Eat this Ashe. What happened to your googles?
[Ashe] - They broke
[Doc] Ah well, you were probably due for a new pair anyway. - Xe pulls out hir command block and opens the creative to get raw materials to make some new ones.
[Endrea] - I'm just glad your safe. Thank you for finding him...
[Gk] I didn't find him. He was with me and Sweet Alex the whole time.
[Endrea] Stiffens a little- You... Knew?
[Gk] Yeah, we intercepted him making a beeline for the wilderness-
[Doc] Holds up the googles proudly- All done!
[Endrea] - You knew... And you didn't think it wise to let me know he was okay? HOW LONG WERE YOU WITH HIM!?
[Gk] Scuttles backwards a little bit- I didn't want him to see me telling his mom where he was over the chat!
[Endrea] - I HAVE BEEN FLYING NON STOP FOR AN ENTIRE DAY LOOKING FOR HIM!
[Gk] Well I figured you might find us...? - Is kinda balled up with his wing tentacles writhing as he's yelled at-
[Sweet Alex] Gk was trying to teach him a valuable lesson Endrea!
[Doc] Sneaks over and hands Ashe his new googles-
[Endrea] - AS IS REASONABLE! HOWEVER THERE IS SUCH A THING AS PRIVATE MESSAGING!
[Gk] teeny bit defensive- You know I'm no good at that fancy shit! I didn't know how to use the chat at all till I got here!
[Sweet Alex] We can do PMs?
[Endrea] - I FLEW IN THE RAIN THE ENTIRE TIME IT WAS FALLING! MY WINGS ARE TO THE POINT THAT I CAN'T FLY ANYMORE RIGHT NOW! THIS IS HOW WORRIED I WAS!
[GK] Ummm- He actually looks a little bit afraid-
[Doc] Is motioning frantically for Lie to make calming blossoms
[Lie] Motions to all the calming flowers already there-
[Ashe] Puts his new goggles on-
[Doc] Endrea... just calm down okay? Everything is fine now.
[Endrea] - No, it isn't- She turns away from GK with a huff and curls around her child
[Doc] Shutting up now... - Xe goes back to Deerheart and pulls one of her wings over hir coils again-
[Deer] Quietly- Do not piss the mama dragon off... Got it
[Gk] Is scrunched up in corner and only his eyes are visible in the shadows-
[Lie] Approaches GK- You okay?
[Gk] Is a little shaky and whispers to her with his slight sibilance. - Just dirty, hungry and tired. I got blown up by a creeper, fell in several holes, and I've been without good food or sleep the whole time we were gone. I also wasted several cows and set two Endermen on fire.
[Lie] - Then rest, you've deserved it. And feel free to raid my garden or the food chest in my house
[Gk] Do you think she'll kick my ass if I try to slink off?
[Lie] - I honestly don't know
[Gk] Sleep it is then... - Tries to curl up comfortably-
[Lie] Gives GK a friendly pat-
[Gk] Nearly inaudible whimper
[Mix] Well, that went surprisingly well. Festiv was smart, you probably planned some kind of bodily horror, CP.
[Raptor Leaders] -talking by their thrones in the back of the room, glancing at them repetitively before parting and coming over-
[Cosm'c] No joo den kxuk 0ei rekx uho loh0 jkhedw nxako o0oj. No uho naccadw ke jfoub ke kxuk vhaodt nxem no xulo nhedwot adutlohkodkc0. Av 0ei uho naccadw ke rhadw ij, Mix ev kxo Whispering Swamp kharo, udt CP, vhaodt ke Mix.
[CP] - I was planning on ripping a leg off... Now what are they going on about?
[Mix] Glad Festiv was smart, now. That probably would've went over bad..
[Mix] Uh.... They admit we are very strong and...
[Mix] They're willing to talk to TLOT
[CP] - Does that mean I can wash this crap off of my face now?
[Mix]... No, but I should probably put some on them before they get there................. *thoughtful look
[CP] - Let me guess, you want me to entertain while you apply this crap to them?
[Mix] Yeah. Try not to mutilate them?
[CP] - Absolutely no promises... Actually, hold still a sec...
[Mix] Huh? -holds still-
[CP] Pulls up her code and looks through her memory files before copying one- I'm getting pretty annoyed at not being able to understand these assholes
[Mix] Oh, alright
[CP] - Now go hurry this shit up
[Mix] A um weadw ke we mubo jiho kxuk kxo hojk uho hout0 ke mook 0ei ucc.
-Mixed Raptor okays-
[Mix] See ya in a bit! -swoosh out to do so-
[CP] Folds his arms with a huff, integrating the code into his translation one to make understanding and speaking to the raptors seamless-
[Cosm'c] Te 0ei kxadb CP xuj u muko? -glancing at cp then back to Eld'ri'm- (Do you think he has a mate?)
[Eld'ri'm] Houcc0 Cosm'c? -unamused face- (Really?)
[Cosm'c] 0oj houcc0! -amused expression- (Yes really)
[Festiv] -Just lightly amused expression-
[CP] Listens to them before sighing- 0oj, A te xulo u muko, uckxeiwx jxo tat dek semo ed kxaj utlodkiho (Yes, I do have a mate, although she did not come this time)
-Startled raptor noises-
[Cosm'c] Tumd! Jxo mijk ro edo cisb0 odkak0! (Damn, she must be lucky!)
[CP] - Dek oloh0edo neict uwhoo nakx 0ei (Not everyone would agree with you)
[Cosm'c] Kxo0'ho veecj kxod! -paps tail a bit, jingling- (They are fools then)
[CP] - Kxo0 uho nehhaot. Kxo0 scuam rosuijo ev m0... Lecukaco komfoh udt kodtodsaoj ke mihtoh (They are worried. They claim because of my... Volatile temper and tendencies to murder)
[Festiv] Eih badt uho lecukaco udt fhedo ke mihtoh, vhaodt CP. Ak teoj dek adxarak eih uracak0 ke celo, deh eih uracak0 ke suho ureik eih muko. A rok 0eihj celoj 0ei tojfako kxejo kodtodsaoj. -friendly look- (I bet she loves you despite those tendencies because we are the same)
[Cosm'c] Mu0ro najxoj 0ei neict ro u rak wodkcoh, rik 0ei sud'k jamfc0 kumo u hufkeh ad u tu0. Ak kuboj kamo. (Maybe wishes you were gentler)
[CP] - Odeiwx, A kxadb jxo'j ucmejk tedo eik kxoho (enough, I think she is almost done out there)
[Eld'ri'm] Xedojkc0, uj cedw uj 0ei'ho dek xihkadw XOH, A te dek joo kxo fhercom nakx kxejo kodtodsaoj. -shrug- (Honestly, as long as you're not hurting her, I do not see the problem)
[CP] - Doloh, A't doloh xihk xoh (Never, I'd never hurt her)
[Eld'ri'm] Kxod A ted'k joo kxo fhercom, vhaodt CP. (Then I don't see a problem)
[CP] - A um dek 0eih vhaodt. Cok mo fik ak kxaj nu0, kxejo kojkavasukoj 0ei batduffot? A um kxoah wet ev nuh, m0 semadw aj doloh jemokxadw ke kubo cawxkc0 (I am not your friend, those testifcates you kidnapped? To them I am their god of war)
[Festiv] Wet ev nuh? Uj av. 0ei uho zijk u mud, zijk udekxoh nxako o0o. Dek u wet. (God of war? As if, you are just a man)
[CP] - 0oj, udt loh0 tavvasick ke wok ke we ucedw nakx ujjadado khafj cabo kxaj edo (Yes, and very difficult to get to go along on asinine trips like this)
[Mix] -Poking back in- They're ready! Kxo vhaodt aj hout0 ke mook 0ei.
[Cosm'c] Uchawxk, xoho no we! (Alright, here we go)
[Raptor Leaders] -To the door and pop out of building-
[TLOT] Ready for what?
[Pinapple] Hopefully not to eat us or something.
[Steve] It's okay, you're safe with us.
[CP] Just teleports out-
[Steve] At Cp- How did it go?
[CP] - Annoyingly boring
[TLOT] Then it could have been much worse. Do they want to have a treaty or just for us to fuck off?
[Festiv] -Clearly the calmest, actually walking rather than the other two who bound forward to the group. Shi's keeping even with Mix, mostly.- Kxaj edo aj kxo vhaodt? Udekxoh nxako o0o?... Rik u coutoh. A joo den, nx0 xo lodkihot xoho veh xaj foefco. -To Mix.- {Shi seems a bit uninterested initially, but approving, and a bit understanding by the end.}
[Steve] Hides behind TLOT, clearly uncomfortable and peeking over his shoulder a bit-
[Testificates] Stay in a tight group behind Steve.
[TLOT] Greetings! I guess you fellows are the tribal leaders?
[Mix] 0oux, TLOT aj ojjodkaucc0 kxo kojkavasukoj wet den, rik xo'j u weet fohjed. Nxod xo veidt eik foefco nodk majjadw xo nuj hout0 ke semo ammotaukoc0. -Gestures at TLOT a bit and nods.- {She's assuring the raptor a bit before smiling.}
[Cosm'c] -Examining them each carefully before grinning, several teeth very prominent.-
[Festiv] A joo. Nacc 0ei efohuko uj khudjcukeh? -Stops before the group, looking at them once over, pausing and Eyeing Steve's helmet.- {Questioning tone directed at Mix}
[Mix] I'll be the translator!
[Festiv] -More to hirself than anything.- Kxuk xocmok... Seict ak ro?... {Shi seems questioning about the helmet Steve's wearing.}
[Festiv] -Takes a deep breath- Coutoh ev foefco, A um Festiv, udt kxo ekxoh kne uho Cosm'c udt Eld'ri'm. A idtohjkudt opfcehohj ev 0eih foefco sumo udt noho.. touck nakx, ussehtadw ke kxo ect nu0j. A toofc0 ufecewaqo uk kxo cejj ev 0eih foefco. No noho uskadw ad eih rojk adkodkaedj, uj uwoj uwe, kxo vcojx ruwj mujj baccot eih badt. No xulo de najx ev kxuk xuffodadw uwuad. -Gestures at Cosm'c and Eld'ri'm before dropping hands.- {Shi's explaining something, and apologizing at one point.}
[Mix] Festiv says they're deeply sorry about the loss of some of the testificates, and that shi and her people were only acting on old ways. Something about how the testificates uhhh.... Killed a bunch of them a long time ago. Preemptive action to prevent it again.
[Coffi] We've never seen anything like you!
[Milk] Apart from Father Steve's armor.
[TLOT] My husbands adorment is very, very old. It and my helm were found in an ancient sand temple full of murals of my previous existence, before... before the foul NOTCH destroyed my memories and took away my powers.
[Steve] Takes his hand nervously- I don't mean any offense. It's been mine for so long, I feel near naked without it.
[CP] Is snickering-
[Stevie] Has his sword lowered, but is keeping a wary eye on all the raptors-
[Mix] Kxo0'lo doloh jood ud0kxadw cabo 0ei. {Explaining what Coffi said}
[Eld'ri'm] .... -Seems lowkey interested in TLOT's cape. And Stevie's sword. Trying to get slightly closer to look at them while not making them uncomfortable.-
[Cosm'c] -circling them slowly, looking quite predatory, but her thoughts are calm and peaceful.-
[CP] Makes a small ball of fire in his hand-
[TLOT] Uses his powers to spread a calming feeling-
[Steve] Is watching the circling raptor fearfully-
[Festiv] -Taps foot a little bit, nodding before speaking on hir own.- A't ujjimo je. No uho cedw calot uj ak aj, udt kxo wodesato aj uwoj ectoh kxud olod ij. A teirk ud0 nxe tatd'k vadt xulod nakx kxo Watchful Eyes dukaed homuadj. Kxo wodesato nuj nakxeik mohs0. Dedo noho jfuhot. De xuksxcadw, octoh... Dedo. Ucc noho baccot. Rik kxuk xocm.. Ak huajoj giojkaedj ev u fhefxos0... {Explaining in turn, giving a gesture of her claws at one point. There's a great sadness toward the end followed by hopeful curiousity.}
[Mix] Alright uhhh...... Hir people, if not here, were likely killed like... a long time ago. A really long time ago. The killing of their people was brutal, everyone was killed, baby, old. All of them.. Wow...
[Cosm'c] -Circles a bit closer to Stevie, nosing head down to look at the sword. Seems she's interested in it too.-
[Stevie] - Steve, want me to nudge them back?
[Steve] Shakes his head slightly. He doesn't want to agitate them.
[TLOT] Then I am sorry for your loss, and assure you. We are not here to make trouble.
[Mix] Something about a prophecy linked to Steve's helmet?
[Steve] Looks stunned - ME?!
[CP] Bursts out laughing-
[TLOT] I presumed it was special because of where it had been placed...
[Mix] I'll ask about it.
[Mix] Nxuk fhefxos0?
[Cosm'c] -Tries to doot snoot on sword gently, curiousity evident-
[Stevie] Checks on the villagers real quick before returning his attention to the raptors. He jumps back in surprise at the nudge-
[TLOT] Do your kind use the gems? We could trade with you. That would be good for normalizing relations.
[Cosm'c] -Doots snoot against it again gently before scooting back to Eld'ri'm- Aj jxuhf! Cabo eih scunj. Rik sect. {Explanation of sword feeling}
[Stevie] - What are they doing?
[Mix] -Looks over to Eld'ri'm and Cosm'c- Uhhh... I think they're interested in your sword. Eld'ri'm seems interested in TLOT's cloak though. They've probably never seen stuff like that.
[TLOT] At Mix- Did they say what kind of prophecy? It's nothing bad i hope. - stops- Oh! Thank you. It was a gift from my Testificates.
[Mix] I think Festiv's trying to put it into words. They are old, it's probably been muddled a bunch. Like playing telephone, but with multiple generations, you know?
[TLOT] I can try reading their minds directly. If one of them can focus on a visual reprentation maybe?
[Festiv] -Finally, with a touch of uncertainty- Kxo ehawaduc vehm aj cejk, rik rujasucc0... U Warrior eh vhaodt neict semo rouhadw u jbicc ev octohj, udt no neict ro vhoo. Ak nuj.... loh0 luwio, rik giako xefovic. A... um nedtohadw av kxuk aj kxo jbicc. Udt av je.. Nxuk nacc xuffod den. {Talking about the skull, and what it means. Freedom, maybe?}
[Mix] Uhh... A warrior or friend comes with it, and it will.. bring freedom? Of some kind. Uncertain. Skull of elders? So it's apparently really, really old. Shi's not sure how to take it.
[Eld'ri'm] -Scoots closer carefully and tries to nibble a bit on TLOT's cape end-
[Festiv] -Notices that and taps foot a bit, bells ringing. It gets Eld'ri'm to stop, embarrassedly returning to his spot.-
[TLOT] Runs a hand over his hem and pulls away a square of the same fabric about the size of a rug and holds it out. - Sate your curiousity, if you wish.
[Steve] I prefer not to fight... unless.. are you being opressed by someone? Or something?
[CP] - Hey Stevie, you should give then your sword
[Stevie] - No
[TLOT] I can make you another. Easily.
[Eld'ri'm] -Excitedly snaps up the fabric, teeth fitting around,and somewhat on, TLOT's hand, pulling away in a way that surprisingly does not harm him. It's like the raptors done that before- Uffhosaukot! Jevk. Kujko cabo scekx no boof. Aj daso. Vooc, Cosm'c! {Excited, appreciatively, talking about how it feels, maybe?} -Holds fabric out after nomming on it lightly to Cosm'c-
[Mix] Uho 0ei roadw effhojjot jkacc? Eh uho 0ei mohoc0 vouhvic ev kojkavasukoj uvkoh nxuk xuffodot ke cudt 0ei xoho? {Asking about what Steve wanted to know}
[Festiv] -thoughtful look and slight shake of head.-
[Stevie] - I'm more concerned about what my brother will do if I'm unarmed
[Festiv] De, mohoc0 nehhaot. No xulo rood ucedo veh mud0 wodohukaedj, eik xoho ad kxo jou. Ak xuj bofk ij juvo vhem kxo vcojxruwj. Ad vusk, ro0edt u von eloh kxo 0ouhj, no xulo dek jood ud0 ev khio suijo veh nehh0.. {Admittal and thoughtful pondering}
[Mix] No, they've.. Mostly stayed here because they know it's safe here. Very few have found this place.
[TLOT] Lets go of the fabric - Stevie.... do you really think a sword would be effective if he really wanted to hurt you?
[Cosm'c] -Feeling fabric curiously and nibbling on it a bit too-
[Steve] But surely you'll expand your village with children and run out of room eventually?
[Penut] We're okay... with having you guys around. As long as you're not killing us!
[Stevie] - It has in the past
[TLOT] Please?
[Stevie] - Why?
[TLOT] Just sighs- He still didn't get an answer as to if they wanted to trade.
[Mix] Oh sorry, I didn't ask. What are you hoping to trade?
[TLOT] I guess it depends on what they have and what they want. I just thought it would be good for acclimating everyone to their presence.
[Mix] Alright, I'll ask!
[Cosm'c] -Scuttles up to Festiv and carefully eases fabric into hir claws, excitedly- Vooc kxaj! Aj jevk, cabo kxo jxoof! {Excitement about the fabric}
[Festiv] -Feels fabric and turns it over a few times, dotting it with careful holes from hir claws- lod'k jood jxoof ad u nxaco.. Kxaj aj je jevk... {Agreement}
[Mix] Kxo0 nudk ke bden av 0ei neict cabo ke jkuhk khutadw? Mu0ro uj u nu0 ke rhadw 0eih foefco rusb eik. Kamoj xulo sxudwot xoho. Aj kxoho ud0kxadw 0ei't cabo? {Asking about trading and some explaining why.}
[CP] Starts sneaking up on his brother to yank his sword away-
[Festiv] -flicks fabric around a bit- Uskiucc0.. A neict dek madt meho ev kxaj vurhas. Uk coujk ke jkuhk nakx. Ak'j don udt tavvohodk, semfuhot ke nxuk no xulo. No xulo misx no seict khuto, uj nocc. Womj, reebj ev muwas, udt ect uhkavuskj. Av ak fcoujoj 0ei, ev seihjo. {Hir offers and deals.}
[Mix] Shi likes the fabric. They have a lot they could trade, like jewels, books of magic which I think are enchanted books? and.. old artifacts.
[Eld'ri'm] -Doots his snoot to TLOT's cape, nibbling on it-
[TLOT] What do they want in return? Besides fabric? What kind of diet do they have also? Just meat? We have so much unusual food on our server.
[Mix] Judging by those chompers, I'd say meat.
[TLOT] But one of the ones on our server took Doc's pie? Are they markedly different? They look similar enough.
[CP] Yanks Stevie's sword from his hand and launches it into the top of a nearby jungle tree-
[Stevie] - What the Nether brother!
[Mix] Yeah, definitely different. I can tell. Lightfoot have molars in the back. Not many, but definitely have some. Their diet's Fish and meat and sometimes veggies. But I'll check.
[Mix] Uho 0ei jiho kxoho ajd'k ud0 veet no sud wok 0ei? Nxuk te 0ei ouk, mouk? {Asking}
[Cosm'c] -swoosh to tree, scaling it with ease and grabbing the sword in her mouth- !-nom on it-
[TLOT] Faceplams-
[Steve] Cp! That was rude!
[CP] - No, that was hilarious
[Festiv] -Gives fabric to Eld'ri'm- Mouk ev ucc badtj, jemo vajx nxod no suksx kxom. Av 0ei sud adsehfehuko whoodj ad no sud jemokamoj ouk ak? Rik ijiucc0 ak wokj ij jasb eh teoj dekxadw veh ij. Nxuk badt ev moukj te 0ei xulo? Eh vajx? No xulo xut heiwxc0 kxo jumo veet veh uwoj. U sxudwo ad fuso neict ro... daso. {Fish and meat. Not really many vegetables. What have?}
[Mix] Yeah I was right, Mostly meat. Fish when they can catch them. Don't eat vegetables because it gets them sick. Shi wants to know what meat we can offer because a change of pace would be nice.
[Cosm'c] -gnawing on sword at top of tree-
[Stevie] - I hate you brother
[CP] - Good
[TLOT] I have some ideas. I'll get back to them.
[Steve] Is so annoyed he kicks Cp in the shin- I am so telling Lie how bad you're being!
[Testificates] Collective gasp-
[Eld'ri'm] -Shies away from Steve to sit by Festiv and play with the fabric-
[CP] Slowly turns towards Steve as he's beginning to catch on fire-
[Steve] Shrinks a little but stands his ground-
[TLOT] Warning growl from TLOT- You deserved that Cp.
[CP] - The Nether I did you asshole!
[Mix] -Slight bristle-
[Steve] Lip quivers a little- Just because he's not a little kid anymore doesn't mean it's okay to treat him like shit!
[TLOT] He has a point. I can tell you're showing out in front of company Cp...
[Mix] -Tapping foot a bit angrily, biting lip-
[Festiv] 0eih vhaodt aj giako idhic0.
[Mix] 0oux A bden. Xo'j wekkod rokkoh jadso A mok xam rik... Ak'j.. Ak'j u fhesojj, houcc0. {They're talking about CP}
[Creme] Well he is a god of war...
[Cheez] Surely anything not related to battle bores his greatness?
[Stevie] - I'm one of his favorite targets
[Jelli] Did you commit some horrible crime?
[TLOT] Sibling rivalry
[Jelli] Oh....
[Coffi] Does that mean this Stevie is a minor diety of peace?
[TLOT] Snorts-
[Stevie] - Wait, what?
[Mix] -Stalks over and grabs CP, lightly toasting her arm in the process, and Steve, angrily tapping her foot. It kind of looks comical given her height compared to CP though- Fucks sake. We are trying to do a bunch of political shit, and you two are fighting like Babies! -angry huff- Save it for when we get home you fuckwits!
[Festiv] -Amused but admiring gaze-
[Cosm'c] -gnawing on that sword-
[Coocont] No! He doesn't have powers! He must be clergy.
[Cheez] That makes more sense-
[Creme] at Stevie -You must have lost your hat on your long journey to get here. We'll arrange for you to have a new one when we get home.
[Steve] Ow Mix... I don't want to fight with him at all. But he's being horrible.
[Mix] Still!
[Stevie] - I'm not a clergy
[Testificates] Look confused-
[TLOT] They're from a different seed-
[Testifictes] Assorted - Ohs! and Okays! [Weird forgien people]
[Festiv] -Trots up to TLOT, sifting through hir inventory carefully.-
[TLOT] Watches hir curiously-
[Festiv] -A golden bell, similar to the ones they all have, is what shi pops out, holding it out to TLOT in a friendly manner.-
[TLOT] Takes it curiously and turns it so it jingles - That's lovely. Such a soothing noise.
[Festiv] -Sways whole body, several jingles echoing out. The other two's heads shoot up, homing in on Festiv.-
[Steve] Rustles around in his own inventory - I have an idea! A couple of wool cubes fall out and bounce on the ground as he connects the loose ends to his kitting needles. His fingers are a blur as he works on two small objects and then ties them off. He holds them out to Festiv proudly- It's a pair of striped fingerless gloves that match hir colors-
[Festiv] -Examines gloves for a moment before taking them and putting them on, looking almost excited at the sight.- Ex! Kxaj aj daso, loh0 daso! {Very approving}
[TLOT] Good job my lamb.
[Steve] Looks proud. [There are still three balls at his feet, though they're smaller now. ]
[Festiv] -Lowers claws so Eld'ri'm can feel the gloves-
[Eld'ri'm] -Feels gloves carefully before chittering and nosing at the three balls hopefully-
[Steve] You want a pair too? Or I can do something else?
[Eld'ri'm] -Noses wool balls more-
[Steve] Attatches the balls to his cane sticks and bleps a little in concentration. After a moment he ties it off and gently puts a colorful beret on the raptors head.
[CP] - And now he's clothing the raptors, joy
[TLOT] Oh hush.
[Stevie] - I'm not getting that sword back... Am I?
[TLOT] I'll make you another! Geeze.
[Stevie] - I liked that one...
[Eld'ri'm] -Delighted crooning, presenting the beret on his feathers to Festiv-
[Festiv] -Smiles and pats Eld'ri'm- Ak ceebj weet ed 0ei, Eld.
[Steve] Stevie! Please let it go!
[Stevie] - Alright alright! Sheesh...
[Cosm'c] -soft crunch, peek out from tree top at them-
[TLOT] That one should be careful not to break their teeth on that. It's pretty hard.
[Cosm'c] ... -crunch crunch-
[CP] Floats up into the air again-
[Cosm'c] -notices soft fluffies on Festiv and Eld'ri'm and hops down, padding up to Steve still gnawing on the sword-
[Steve] Takes the remainder of the balls and turns them into a skinny long scarf. He loops it into itself and holds it out. - trade me? Stevie would really like that back.
[Cosm'c] ...?
[Festiv] Kxo ce0uc vhaodt nudkj xaj jxuhf rusb. Kxo vhaodtc0 fhaojk nacc khuto kxo jevk cedw jkhaf veh ak. {Wants sharp back. Will trade.}
[Cosm'c] Ex! -Holds lightly eaten sword out to Steve-
[Steve] Loops the scarf around Cosm'c and takes the sword. - Thank you.
[Stevie] Looks at the slobber covered sword that has tiny chunks missing-
[TLOT] Well it has character now... vintage style.
[CP] Has shit eating grin wondering if he can pull it off a second time-
[Steve] Gives Stevie a push so he'll go stand with the Testificates-
[Stevie] - I'm going, I'm going
[TLOT] Tell you what. Find me an open spot and I'll make you a summoner. Then you can call me if you need to trade or have problems with the local villages.
[Festiv] -Squints a bit before nodding and turning. Gestures back at the big building. Shi points at the top of it, which seems relatively flat. There's clear platforms showing there's a way to get up.-
[TLOT] I'm on it. He strides past Cp and points at him - I'm watching you. - He works his way to the top and lays the rough shape of a summoner out of cobbles and then leans down, putting his hands on it. There's a hush and the blocks flip numbers and become the right materials. He sets fire to the top and there's a kind of pulse as the silent call begins. He dusts his hands and heads back down.
[Steve] Takes out a quill and writes out the poem he knows so well on a piece of paper. - Just read this near the flames and we'll come right away. Mix? Can you scribble a translation on here too- Holds out the quill and paper to her.
[CP] Is eyeing the sword again-
[Mix] Sure. -Takes it and carefully starts translating it.-
[TLOT] Comes back down-
[Stevie] Is wiping his sword off on the ground-
[Cosm'c] -Edge over to try and nom sword some more-
[Mix] Aaannnddd there.
[Stevie] - Oh for Nether's sake...
[Steve] Ah ah ah! Don't do it... That's not nice.
[Festiv] -peeks at writing- -in a very off, heavily accented, kind of like Mix's but a lot more apparent and hilarious??, manner- Een a Square ring of gold....
[Mix] -soft snort-
[TLOT] Oh for.... Here... He pulls a diamond out of the creative and offers it to Cosm'c
[Cosm'c] -Chomp the gem-
[TLOT] Close enough-
[Milk] Can we go home now?
[Coffi] Stomach growl-
[Creme] Little yawn-
[Stevie] - I do still need to work on my gift for Alexis...
[Mix] -Gives paper to Festiv, sharing a few soft words before smiling.-
[TLOT] We won't send any villagers over just yet, but I'll come back in the next couple of days whether you call or not. I'll bring stuff to trade at least. Okay?
[CP] Yawns-
[TLOT] Gives the raptors a polite bow. -
[Festiv] -Only one to give a proper bow back, similar to the one Mix had done upon greeting them. The rest are too distracted.- Joo 0ei kxod, TLOT. {See you then, TLOT.}
[TLOT] Cp... how about just making a hole back to the cage? I'll take this bunch into town and get them fed and beds and take them home tonorrow myself.
[CP] - Now you want me to do more work?
[Mix] Just do it or I'll deck you, CP.
[TLOT] Mentally- I was giving you a chance to show off.-
[CP] - You can't even reach me
[Mix] Not with that attitude, and I got about 5 stacks of dirt with your name on it, bud.
[TLOT] Sighs- Whatever- He does a little pose and circles his hand to to make a shimmering portal -
[Testificates] Look unsure but Steve helps them through
[Steve] Stevie? You coming?
[Stevie] - Absolutely- As he's stepping through he's rammed in the back by his brother
[Festiv] -Seems interested in portal-
[TLOT] Give me a chance to tell my Testificates what's going on and you can come visit us as well if you want.
[CP] Slips through-
[Stevie] On the floor- Ow...
[Steve] Helps him up-
[Stevie] - Thanks...- Looks around- Um, why is the door closed?
[Mix] -Hops out and stretches arms over head-
[TLOT] Comes through and closes the portal - Because Cp. I'll tend to it.
[CP] Tp's outside of the door-
[TLOT] Swats out the blocks beside the door to make a 2-block hole.
[CP] - HEY!
[TLOT] Ptttth-
[Mix] -soft snort-
[Stevie] - Well, I better go find Steffan...
[Steve] Gives Stevie a brotherly hug- Thank you for coming along. Sorry about your sword. We'll get you a new one.
[Stevie] - Eh, I think I have enough for another
[Bee] What-what is this place? I've never seen so much gold...
[Penut] Thumbs at Cp- It's one of his builds.
[Bee] It's amazing!
[Cheez] Meh. Wait until you see the Doctor's castle. It's massive.
[Spork] What Doctor?
[Steve] Doc is a brine that runs the server. One of the head admins on our seed.
[Candelabra] What's a server?
[TLOT] Thumbs back at the two consoles with their trailing redstone wires - Your whole world, my original spawn seed, is in the one on the right.
[Candelabra] Looks at it fearfully - We walk amongst gods...
[TLOT] Doc keeps everything tidy, but they aren't the only Herobrine here. They're the golden dragon.
[Spork] Impressed hush, and then- Does the goddess Lie live here too?! And Splenderousman?
[Steve] Yep. We'll come up near her house once we get out of here.
[Spork] Woooow.
[Milk] Should we tell them TLOT, about... Markus?
[TLOT] Rubs the bridge of his nose bump- ...go ahead.
[Steve] Let me do it, please. - addresses the three they rescued- I'm gonna share a secret with you, and if I think you won't keep it, then we can't let you go home. But you may discover it on your own and that would be even more confusing. Do you understand?
[Candelabra] Can we stay if we... just want too?
[TLOT] I'll consider it.
[Spork] I won't tell a soul.
[Bee] Enraptured curious look- Me either.
[Steve] You know there's more then one Herobrine, there's also more the one NOTCH.
-Collective frightened gasps from the three.-
[Coffi] It's okay man. Most of them are docile as fuck.
[Coocont] And the brines keep the bad ones locked out of this world.
[Candelabra] Points up- Is it.. safe out there? Topside?
[Bee] So who is Markus?
[TLOT] He's the... like the father of all the NOTCHs. And some of them are bad kids and others just want to be left alone.
[Steve] He's a very sweet person. Stevie calls him father and he claims Cp as one of his sons as well.
[Jelli] I heard he was also dating the purple magick gal...
[Penut] I saw them walking together the other day! Holding hands. You could tell he was lovestruck. - Clasps his own hands and sighs- it was so sweet. He has weird hair though.
[Spork] I thought NOTCH was bald?
[Milk] I heard Doc made him a rug for his head?
[Cheez] No! It's real hair! Drillby saw it up close!
[Candelabra] You speak so casually of our gods.
[Coffi] Well.... they're our neighbors.
[Pinapple] Splender feeds on happy energy, so he frequently comes to town to play with our children and visit with us.
[Creme] Yeah, and Lie comes to trade every few days.
[Jelli] We don't see the Doctor quite as often though, they get around the seed a lot, so they're usually just passing by overhead.
[Bee] Imagine seeing a dragon so often they're just... hey there goes the dragon... Wow...
-The offensive pod uncurls from where it's testing and lowers itself to investigate those in the cage -
[Stevie] - That thing seems to just get more and more curious...
[Bee, Spork, and Candelabra] All move closer to the door so they aren't underneath it.
[TLOT] Well it was the first one she made, and it is on a rather boring guard duty assignment. Not much happens down here.
[CP] - FIX THE FUCKING WALL TLOT!
[TLOT] He gently ushers all the Testificates out of the cage and faces Cp before slowly, delicately, sliding two blocks back into the hole he made.
[Testificates] Assorted snickers-
[CP] Catches on fire in irritation-
[TLOT] Gives Stevie a little push so he'll walk with the group and they just tromp past Cp.
[CP] - I fucking hate you
[TLOT] Blows him a kiss-
[Testificates] More snickering-
[CP] Just teleports up to the surface-
[GK] Is slinking along the ground, passing through Lie's yard-
[CP] -GK? What are you doing?
[Gk] Jumps a little- Oh. It's you... I got yelled at.
[CP] - By who?
[Gk] Endrea...
[CP] Scoffs- What? Did you steal her kids or something?
[Gk] Makes a face- Kinda...
[CP] Blank faces for a moment- WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU DO THAT!?
[GK] Balls up in shock- Ashe tried to run away from home!
[CP] - SO!?
[Gk] So... me and Sweet Alex took him out in the woods for a bit of survival...
[CP] - Oh my fucking... YOU IDIOT!
[Gk] But it worked! He's the one who decided he wanted to come back home!
[CP] - DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MANY TIMES STEVIE TRIED TO RUN AWAY!? HE'D ALWAYS COME RIGHT BACK!
[GK] Teeny whimper-
[CP] - YOU ARE SUCH AN IDIOT! YOU'RE A DRAGON! YOU SHOULD KNOW HOW POSSESSIVE DRAGONS GET ABOUT THINGS!
[TLOT] Comes up in time to hear most of it. - Just can't calm down today can you?
[Testificates] The ones from the village look totally unfazed, but the three outsiders are staring at the Herobrine screaming at the fearsome red dragon in shock and awe.
[CP] - WILL YOU TALK SOME SENSE INTO THIS MORON! HE RAN OFF WITH ENDREA'S KID!
[TLOT] So I heard.
[Mix] -just removing feathers and letting hair down as she follows TLOT and the testificates up-
[Steve] You what?
[GK] I was just trying to show him how you guys do it! Steves and Alexs!
[CP] - Without telling his mom I'm assuming!
[Gk] No... not really... He would'a seen me telling her where he was and run off again!
[CP] - THERE'S PRIVATE CHAT!
[Gk] I DON'T KNOW HOW TO USE THAT SHIT!
[TLOT] Calm down please.
[Mix] CP needs a nap. -just, quietly-
-There's the noise of a slamming door and something dashes across the yard grabbing onto CP. It's CN-
[CP] For Nether's sake what now?
[Testificates] Regard the little tiny NOTCH with a mixture of suprise, dread and fear from the outsiders.
[CN] Looks up at him- No... Nobody was here...
[TLOT] Where's Lie?
[CP] Groans and face palms- My thoughts exactly...
[CN] - I don't know... She and DN's brine were building and then I went and took a nap down in the storage room...
[Steve] Are you okay?
[CN] Sniffles but nods a little-
[Mix] Ya need a hug buddy? We can find Lie pretty easy....
[CN] Doesn't really know Mix well so clutches to CP a bit tighter since he's the most familiar-
[CP] Sighs and just picks CN up- I'm gonna show you something
[TLOT] Makes a little hand wave to his group- Take the survivors into town, feed them and set them up in the hotel.
[Coffi] Yes Lord!
[CP] Grumbles but walks towards the front of his and Lie's house-
[Gk] Shrinks down and swipes a bit of food from Lie's garden before going into her barn to sulk amidst the cats.
[CP] Stops in front of Notch's house and puts CN down before kicking open the door-
[Stevie] - Brother!
[TLOT] Looks at Mix- Job well done eh?
[Steve] Thank you for helping us.
[Mix] Haha, yeah... Was a trip. Nice to.. do things that I haven't in a long time. -shes a bit conscious of how her accent's picked up after all that speaking, but smiling none the less-
[TLOT] So what does the face paint signify exactly?
[Mix] Which ones exactly? -Rubs at her own, smearing it-
[TLOT] Yours, Cp's? I'm assuming theirs just that they're leaders.
[Mix] Mines more traditional tribe painting. I saw the River Dancer's paints, it looked neat as fuck. Ours is just denouncing us as the Whispering Swamp tribe. Technically I should've added healer to mine, but I didn't have the patience.
[Mix] CP's was basically stating he was a fearsome warrior. But, a dependable one. Usually. And that he was a leader. But I only did half the leader one. -shrug a bit-
[Mix] Steve would get part of mine, a friendly mark, a spiritual one... -taps chin a bit- Yeah.
[TLOT] I think this is something that should certainly be preserved Mix. Would you mind drawing out the basic designs and what they mean for me? If you go talk to Alexsezia she'll give you some paints and a big blank book. I feel this should be in the librairy.
[Steve] Should we tell the Lightfoots we found these raptors? You said their community was essencially destroyed with your seed.
[Notch] Leaps in fear and spills his tea on his lap- OWWW!
[CP] Looks at CN- If you can't find Lie or I, just fucking come here...
[Stevie] - Brother there are nicer ways to open a door you know! Hello father
[Notch] Cp you scared me half to death! - nods at Stevie-
[Flux] Sips her tea calmly-
[CP] - So?
[Stevie] - He's been an ass all day. He shoved me into a different server
[Notch] What the fuck Cp?!
[CP] - None of your fucking business- Starts storming off while Stevie sighs and CN follows CP
[Notch] Errrrgh
[Mix] Alright, I could. What marks all should I do? Just, everyone who went with or..? And that's a good idea... I mean, its not their usual thing but I can already see them picking at the culture they're spawned with but.. that might be useful...
[TLOT] Whatever you think is useful Mix. In this instance, you're the expert-
[Steve] Gives Mix a pat on the back -
[Flux] Picks up on the signatures of the three visiting testificates- Interesting
[Mix] -blink, blink... soft gasp-
[Mix] Oh.
[Flux] Sets her cup of tea down and transitions to her mist form before appearing before the group outside- These three... They are not from around here...
[Mix] -softer, to herself- Oh.
[Village Testificates] Are startled and jump a little.
[outsider Testificates] Little eeks of terror-
[Coffi] - They're from our original seed mistress.
[Milk] we rescueded them from raptors!
[Flux] - Raptors?
[Cheez] Uh. Like the thing Father Steve's armor was made from?
[Creme] They were like dragon people!
[Mix] Hey. Hey Steve.
[Flux] - I see, then I suppose a welcome is proper?
[Steve] Yes Mix?
[Pinapple] TLOT said we were supposed to feed them mistress. They were in a prision.
[Mix] I just came to a startling realization. Want to join my tribe?
[Flux] - Then I will not keep you from your jobs
[Steve] Looks at her weirdly- You're not gonna make me do some kind of painful intiation are you?
[Mix] Nah, I'm not mean like that. I'll just need to borrow you from your husband for a while.
[Testificates] Thank you mistress Flux- some polite bows
[Steve] How long?
[TLOT] Looks a bit unsure.
[Flux] Walks back towards Notch's house-
[Stevie] Looks inside- You okay father?
[Mix] -Thoughtful expression-
[Notch] Just a bit hurt. And now my pants are all wet. Fucking Cp....
[Mix] Like, an hour maybe?
[Stevie] - Want me to grab you some healing flowers?
[Steve] Oh! Okay. We don't sleep well apart, that's all. When?
[Notch] Please.
[Mix] Whenever you've got the free time, doesn't matter that much to me.
[Stevie] Jogs across the courtyard to grab healing flowers-
[TLOT] watches Stevie curiously- Something wrong?
[Stevie] - Nothing to bad?
[Steve] Great!
[TLOT] When you finish with the book come and show it to us. That would be a good time. I'm assuming the info is something you want him to know anyway?
[Stevie] Returns to Notch's house with a couple of the flowers- Here you go father
[Notch] Puts them on his crotch- Thank you Stevie.
[Mix] That'll work for sure, and yeah, kind of.
[Flux] Frowns a bit, remembering what TLOT had told her-
[Steve] What's it called again? The tribe name?
[Flux] - Do you need help Notch?
[Mix] Whispering Swamp.
[Notch] No, I'm okay. The hot liquid kinda fell on a tender spot is all.
[Steve] I like it!
[TLOT] Wry smile- It's been our prefered biome for a long time... plenty of slime blocks-
[Steve] Little blush-
[Mix] -snort-
[Flux] - If your certain...
[Stevie] - Well, I'm off to see if I can't find Steffan, we had some plans
[Notch] Sits back - Yeah I just need to sit for a minute.
[Flux] Goes to grab a carpet to clean up the mess-
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Top Cat – Hoyt Curtin
“The indisputable leader of the gang”
*Warning : Cat Porn*
*
Yes, that Top Cat. The wise guy cartoon alleycat from New York City with his gang always trying to get one over on Officer Dibble. It was a staple of my childhood in the 1960s and certainly contributed to my impression of the city where I now live. As did the music. Like many of Hanna Barbara’s cartoons – Huckleberry Hound, The Flintstones, The Jetsons – the music was composed and recorded by Hoyt Curtin, a Californian specialist in the punchy joyful bright slices of cartoon sound. Top Cat the Theme Music is only 42 seconds long and is thus the shortest piece of music in My Pop Life to date.
From the funky horn fanfare to the stuttering trumpet intro to the glamorous celebratory vocal refrain (which reminds me somehow of Isaac Hayes’ Shaft (see My Pop Life #60)) and the crisp xylophone punctuation, this mini cartoon symphony is a marvel of crushed sound & misheard lyrics.
Top Cat ! whose intellectual close friends get to call him T.C.
Strode right in, it’s whipping to see…Top Cat !
Hmmm. Well that is what I’ve always sung, from the age of five. Nonsense. Wait. OK according to the lyrics bible Genius.com (which is highly recommended by the way…) it is :
Top Cat ! whose intellectual close friends get to call him T.C.
Providing it’s with dignity…Top Cat !
I genuinely just found that out. Prefer my five year old version somehow. Anyway. The music always made me feel that it had been played on a single that jumped – we had some of these – a scratched record – where a groove was missed and the tune would jump forward 15 seconds. Somehow Top Cat does this in its second 20 seconds. Check it out – it is completely wild, and probably quite hard to play. It is a masterpiece theme tune to a masterpiece cartoon that ran from 1961 for only 30 episodes. Which were endlessly repeated.
Top Cat, Benny the Ball, Fancy Fancy, Choo Choo, Brain & Spook
The format was as follows – a street gang of cats living in dustbins by a fence eating fish-heads, and thrown-away fast food. Led by smart status symbol Top Cat – T.C. – Benny the Ball, Choo Choo, Brain, Fancy Fancy and Spook were all expertly delineated characters in bright colours and working-class NYC accents. Their enemy was Officer Dibble who was a human, constantly trying to foil their get-rich-quick schemes. I suppose there was a strong symbolic element here – a representation of the poor underclass, finding ways legal or usually otherwise to make ends meet. The voices were all superb. Arnold Stang was T.C.
Mimi, Roxy and Boy in Brighton : a very rare picture of them together
Back there in Sussex we always had cats – indeed apart from a brief spell at the LSE and a handful of years in Los Angeles, I have always had a cat, or two, or three. I believe them to be superior to dogs. They clean themselves. They bury their toilet. They give themselves their own status. They are spirit animals who give your home life and soul. When they die, I am bereft for a long long time.
My first cat was called Caesar, a big male tabby given to me when I was one year old. I remember burying him in the garden of our house in Selmeston when Dad was still at home, so I would’ve been seven or eight, and so would Caesar. Then we got white tortoiseshell Sheba and black & white Kitty Little. We also had dogs during this period of my youth – Corgis Raq and Bessie, and then Welsh Sheepdog Brutus who used to chase cars. When we became homeless in 1970 (see My Pop Life #84 ) I don’t know what happened to the animals. After nine months the family were re-united in Hailsham and I think Sheba and Kitty Little were still with us but this may be a feline hallucination. I’ll ask Mum. I have a memory of finding Sheba dead under the kitchen tap one school morning in Hailsham because she had eaten string and was trying to drink water to lubricate herself. Pets give you these horrific moments and even if they live long, they will inevitably die before you do. Certainly by the time Rebecca was born we had grey/white Lucy who lived a very long life and eventually died as Becky turned 18. Once I moved to London for university in 1976 there were no pets allowed in Halls of Residence beneath the Post Office Tower, however when I lived in Finsbury Park with Mumtaz in the early 80s we had Monty, another tabby, and when I left, in 1985, he stayed. Or did he? I think maybe he moved in with me for a bit, then went back to Mumtaz…
London 1990 – Honey, Hardy & me
In the mid-80s I got a flat in in Archway Road N6 and when Jenny moved in we got two beautiful Siamese kittens, Hardy and Honey.
Hardy and Honey, about six months old
Such beautiful animals, they both talked a great deal and were sweet companions. One night when we came in from a theatre show they were missing – then a small miaow led us to the top of the wardrobe where they were nervously looking down. Then a movement under the bed – a Ginger Tom ran out through the cat door into the back garden. He had bullied them. Eaten their food. Ginger Toms do that in my experience. Anyway a few weeks later the same thing happened. There Hardy and Honey were again, on top of the wardrobe. We had discussed what we would do if it happened again. Plan A. Jenny walked down to the cat door and locked it. Then the Ginger Tom (for it was he!) ran back there and got trapped in the bathroom (which was the back room due to the weird Housing Association conversion we were in). I ran a tap and filled a jug. Ginger Tom was hissing and growling and Honey had come down for a ringside seat and got trapped in the room. I tipped water onto the Ginger Tom’s head until he submitted, then finally opened the catflap and out he went. We never saw him again. Nor did Honey or Hardy.
Hardy in Highgate, 1992
When we went to Scotland on holiday once a year – a 12-hour drive up to the West Coast & the islands – we would take the Siamese with us. They would be locked in the cottage when we went for walks. I remember Hardy growling at the sheep one morning. When we were in Los Angeles Jenny’s school friend darling Betty would stay in our flat and look after them. We would go back and forth. Then when we returned from Los Angeles in 1995 we knew we wanted to move out of Highgate.
Honey got out the front door on the day we packed up the van to move temporarily to Kilburn and sometime that night got run over on that busy road. Heartbreaking doesn’t begin to describe it. I had to scrape her body off the road with a shovel and bury her in the back garden. I felt sick. Later we got another strange Siamese called Tia who never quite fitted in, never liked Jenny but used to swoon at me. Hardy and Tia came to Brighton with us but we were away so much during that period – in LA and elsewhere that we eventually gave them away to a lovely old lady who had just lost her two Siamese and needed some grown ones because she couldn’t bear raising another kitten. She would write to us about them every now and again which was lovely. They died there in the Sussex countryside about ten years ago.
Marvin aged 20 weeks
At some point in 2004 we visited Stockholm with Amanda Ooms and met her sister Sara who had helped Andy Baybutt and I with The Murmuration (see My Pop Life #87) and met her new kitten Otis. What a great animal! He was a Devon Rex breed, with only one type of fur (most cats have three : down, fur & guard fur) and he was super-intelligent and friendly. Bless Otis he passed away last week (Feb 2019) aged 15. Anyway we were ready to re-cat ourselves and decided to get a Devon Rex, then found Marvin from a breeder. Such a beautiful little boy he was, who would climb up from the ground up my legs, my body up to my shoulder and sit there. He lasted a mere 9 weeks before cutting his mouth on a wicker basket and getting very weak. We took him to the vet who did a blood test and told us he had a factor 8 deficiency which meant his blood couldn’t clot and a transfusion wouldn’t work he would never live a long life. That was simply awful. I held Marvin’s little body to my chest through the night listening as his breathing got shallower and shallower, stroking him and whispering love into his absurdly large ears until he gave a big sigh, a final tiny rattle and passed over. Jeez that was sad.
Chester
Eventually in April 2008 we decided to brave another Devon Rex and Chester arrived. What a cat he was. Like an old chinese man. Very communicative. Very funny. He would crawl under the duvet every night. After a year we decided to find him a mate. By then we’d found a breeder that we liked, Michelle on the outskirts of Sheffield, whom we’d dropped in on one day while visiting my dad who lives in West Yorkshire. Her house was full to the brim with cats, all friendly and smiling, purring and relaxed, draped over the furniture, window ledges, feeding kittens, greeting us. She had all the queens inside – about twenty five females, and all the males outside in the yard and a back shed.
Michelle’s queen Orientals
Devon Rex mum and smigel kittens at Michelle’s
Mimi’s mum, and, possibly, a very young Mimi
It is an extraordinary house. We saw the new brood upstairs of tiny little pieces of Russian Blue Cornish Rex fur and said we’d be back in 10 weeks for a girl. Mimi came back with us in the Jeep on the 200 mile journey and Chester fell in lust as soon as he laid eyes on her. We had to separate them for a few nights, then it was obvious (from the howling) that we would have to spey dear Chester. After that they got on famously….most of the time….
Chester, me, Mimi – late 2008
Mimi kitten with Chester aged 15 months
Despite this clear blow to the head, Chester was not very good at fighting
A very special animal, Chester also had a congenital problem, this time with arrhythmia – an uneven heartbeat. He died aged four while I was filming in Nashville and Jenny and I weren’t getting on. I flew back and we buried him in the back garden in floods of tears, his early death re-uniting us as a kind of awful sacrifice.
Mimi we felt was lonely then. We worried about her. Michelle heard about Chester dying young and offered us another Cornish Rex so I drove up to Sheffield again and came back with the most affectionate cat I’ve ever met – Roxy, a bonkers tortoiseshell female. Mimi hated her.
Roxy is a one-off weirdo. I would actually say she has special needs. In the nicest possible way of course. She loves to sit on a shoulder. Feels safe up there. Then she will purr and push her face into my beard, squirming with joy.
She would get out of the garden and wander down the road shouting at the top of her voice as if she was lost. People would pick her up and say hi where do you live? I could hear them over the garden trellis. We put a collar on her with the address and my mobile phone number engraved on it. One day, sitting in the Peace Statue cafe in Hove with Andy my phone went.
“Hello, do you have a cat called Roxy?”
“Yes I do”
“She’s in the hospital”
“OK thanks I’ll come and get her”.
Luckily I was on my bike and when I got home there was a nurse on my doorstep with Roxy and her winking eye, like butter wouldn’t melt. After three months, Mimi still hated her. Roxy tried to make friends but no. What to do?
Boy’s first night in Brighton – oh god, there’s two other cats here…
Get another cat! This time it was to Basingstoke and the last of a litter, a beautiful black Oriental. I met his father who was a Siamese and his mother who was a mushroom Oriental softie. Roxy swooned for the Boy as soon as she saw him. She licked him, chased him and bit his throat which was rather alarming. But that is what cats do when they play. She was teaching him how to fight.
She has taught him everything since. They sleep together, wash each other, play and fight together. Mimi kept her disdainful character intact, and when it was that we came to move to New York City, we brought Roxy & Boy with us and left Mimi in Brighton. Mimi is an outside cat, she was the queen of that hill in Kemp Town.
Mimi & Delilah-Rose, Brighton 2008
So we found her a home in Norfolk and later received some lovely photos of her looking very pleased with herself as a nine-year old girl’s pet and the only cat in the house (her one true desire).
Roxy we wouldn’t allow outside because she got lost every time, and Boy could take it or leave it – and he liked to bring back worms and slow worms (legless lizards) from outside and leave them – alive – in the kitchen. But we’d already decided not to let the cats out in Brooklyn because of
TOP CAT!
THE MOST EFFECTUAL TOP CAT !
The local alley cats here have thick fur because they sleep outside in all weather. They slouch and have scars and behave like tough guys. They are huge. They are contemptuous. They probably have leukemia. We imagined them meeting Roxy & Boy and speaking in Brooklynese :
“Yo. What’s your name – puss-in-boots? What you doin’ down here? Welcome to the hood. You is European?! Don’t make me fuck you up kitty kitty.“
Scarcely anyone in New York speaks like this anymore, they’ve all moved out to Long Island or Westchester, or Jersey. I mean it’s noticeable when you hear that Top Cat twang on the streets, like an endangered species. But I think the cats still talk like that even if the people don’t. The cats haven’t been gentrified yet (although there are gangs of “cat lovers” who go out and spey them and give them injections for leukemia). So Roxy and Boy stay in. They have space, pretend trees to climb, food, beds, water, toys, windows to look out of with sunshine coming in. Now and again Boy demands go out out onto the stairs so he can scratch the stair carpet. Actually he is very dog-like. He plays fetch and guards the perimeters. They are content. I love them with all my heart as I have loved all my cats, but maybe a little bit more. They are, of course, our little kids.
Mimi & Chester in Brighton
Boy & Roxy in Brooklyn
These are the two opening sequences I remember :
youtube
A sample of one episode ‘the maharajah of pookajee”
youtube
My Pop Life #215 : Top Cat – Hoyt Curtin Top Cat - Hoyt Curtin "The indisputable leader of the gang" *Warning : Cat Porn* *
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Bakugou Katsuki, played by Theon
OOC Info
Name: theon
Age: 18
Pronouns: he/him
Triggers: [redacted]
Second Choice Character: remy lebeau (Comics), loki (MCU)
Discord: [redacted]
IC Info
Muse Name and Alias: katsuki bakugou (“kacchan”)
What is your primary canon(s) for this character? boku no hero academia, both anime and manga
Approximate Age: 16-17
OTPs/BroTPs: kirishima/bakugou
NoTPs: midoriya/bakugou, uraraka/bakugou
Give us a bulletpoint outline for what your character’s history might look like:
somewhat of a bully from birth, bakugou has never had a good reputation as anything nearing heroic: but what he lacks in tact (— and, some might argue, intention), he makes up for in sheer, unhesitating power.
his power — or quirk, as he calls it — is a combination of the powers of his assertive mother and soft-spoken father, resulting in an ability to spark instant, targeted explosive blasts from his palms.
passing the exams to enter the prestigious u.a. high with ease, bakugou has a sharp mind hidden under his sharp tongue, though his propensity to leap into battle before thinking things through makes many people think otherwise.
being kidnapped by a league of villains while in his first year at u.a., he was given the opportunity to join their ranks — an opportunity which he rejected with contempt, a testament to how deeply his adoration of heroic ideals is rooted, despite how villainous his actions may make him appear.
his powers mirror his personality: quick to ignite, with a burning, dangerous temper. his arrogant need for superiority and recognition belies an inner craving for validation and attention borne of childhood flattery and hidden insecurity.
Interview (Must be answered in character, third person, including both narrative and dialogue. Answer these as if you’re responding to a roleplay reply. Feel free to write as much as you like, but make sure there’s at least a good paragraph for each.)
What would it take for you to switch sides? (hero to villain; villain to hero; neutral to either)
Katsuki smirked, righteous anger running hot through his veins and fueling the reckless abandon with which he leaned forward, face barely inches away from his captor. “You morons have tried to convert me before — remember how that turned out?"
His fingers twitched behind his back, wrists chafing painfully against the thick rope that bound them together as he struggled against his restraints, sparks flickering between his fingers.
"There’s nothing in this damn world that’d make me someone like you,” Katsuki spit, voice dripping with obvious contempt. “Now — fuck off.”
How would you describe yourself? How would your friends describe you? How would the public describe you?
“That’s a stupid question,” Katsuki replied, with a dismissive snort. He glanced down at his hands, heat burning comfortingly under his palms: embers, waiting to burst into flame. Shifting his gaze back up, his lips curled into a familiar expression, halfway between a sneer and a smirk.
“I’m going to be the best hero that U.A.’s ever seen,” he said, leaning back and stacking his hands behind his head. I don’t have friends, he bit back, harshly. "Nobody in my class would disagree.“ It’s a non-answer, and Katsuki knew it, but this was who he was, what he was: a fighter, a competitor, a weapon. Anything outside of that was meaningless.
"The public will see,” Katsuki proclaimed, jabbing a rough thumb towards himself. “I’ll be top of the rankings in no time, the minute U.A. stops holding my hand and starts letting me beat the shit out of some bad guys.”
If you could gain any superpower/swap your superpower for another, what would it be and why?
“You’re fucking kidding me,” Katsuki drawled, punctuating his words with a sharp snap. A spark danced between his fingers, a tiny explosion filling the room with a harsh pop. The sound echoed and faded, leaving only the impatient tapping of Katsuki’s feet to fill the silence.
“Why the fuck would I want someone else’s Quirk? I have everything I need, already.” It was a part of him, now, the sting of recoil as familiar as the smell of glycerin that clung to his skin. It’s a part of me. The thought rises unbidden, lingering in his mind — it frustrates him, letting an angry growl slip by his lips. “Stop wasting my time.”
What is a secret you have never told someone?
“The point of a secret,” Katsuki muttered, dragging his pillow over his face, “is that you don’t tell them, moron."
The pillow was dragged off his face in a swift whump, and he winced at the sudden flood of light that assaulted his eyes. "Fuck you,” he growled, without malice. Rolling over, he pulled the covers up over his shoulders, pushing his face into his pillow. “I’m not doing this slumber party bullshit with you.”
Silence. The guilt rolled into Katsuki’s chest, faint and unfamiliar and goddamn annoying, and he sighed, a hand coming up to smooth the permanent furrow in his brow. “Fine. Here’s a secret: the first time I went mountain climbing, I fell and broke my arm. I said it was because my rope came loose, but actually, I accidentally blasted a hole through my fucking handhold and slipped. Happy?”
He rolled his eyes, shifting against the unfamiliar sheets. “Now go the fuck to sleep before I knock you out myself.”
If there was one choice in your past you could change, what would it be?
Katsuki snorted, taken aback by the question. “Regrets just get in the way,” he said, dismissively. Still, he cycled through his life silently, considering. All that shit with Deku, he thought, before he cut that train of thought off as quickly as it’d arisen.
“Not studying my ass off when I should have,” he said, noncommittally. “I came in third, but I deserve to be the top of this damned class.”
If you had one day where you could do anything you want, free of consequences, what would you do?
“Blow Deku to shreds,” he said, out of habit. Katsuki shoveled another spoonful of chili into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “That’s a dumb idea. It’s never going to happen, so there’s no point thinking about it.”
He drummed his fingers on the table, tipping his head to the side impatiently. “I guess I’d go into the city and upstage all those half-rate heroes who can’t do their damn jobs right. Always collateral damage this and extra precautions that, but fuck that — there won’t be any fucking damage if I get there first and destroy whatever villain’s stupid enough to get in my way.”
Extras
(Anything else you want to show us? This section is completely optional, but feel free to include things like headcanons, rp sample, playlist, etc.)
personally, i think my portrayal of bakugou is more reliant on his internal thoughts, beliefs, and emotions than anime!bakugou. at this point, he’s a little more mature, a little more tempered — but still that same fiery pain in the ass, at his core.
very excited to potentially write with y'all! let me know if i misunderstood any part of the app / did something wrong 0:
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