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negasonicimagines · 3 years

Text

Revelation; Part One

warnings/kinks: a/b/o (if you’re penis-repulsed this isn’t for you), smut (duh), brief daddy kink, even briefer mommy kink, cum-eating, cum-marking, cockwarming? (does it count if it’s a/b/o?), light bloodplay, borderline somniphilia (consensual), poisoning, suicidal ideation, allusions to cheating, mentions of conversion therapy, vague mentions of s*xual ass*ult (it doesn’t actually happen in the story, it’s just referred to a lot due to the nature of this universe)

uh… this is another one of those stories that’s just kinda Heavy, please be careful & don’t continue reading if doing so is unsafe for you. I have a variety of other works that don’t have such intense themes, which you can find on my masterlist!

request (+details): Omegaverse: Alphas Yukio and Ellie with a beta reader, but it turns out that reader is a late-bloomer omega who goes into her first heat unexpectedly. / Omegaverse: The setting could be anywhere. The three of them waking up with reader burning hot, believing to be sick but is actually going into heat. The reader could be by themselves when it happens and her alphas come home to a omega in heat / I can’t get this omegaverse idea out of my head, and I hope you don’t mind me telling you this. Reader being alone and confused when her heat came, her alphas gone on a mission. During the time they were gone, Reader made a nest of her alphas’s clothes out of instinct on their bed. By the time Yukio and Ellie returned, Reader is a hot mess from trying to get off, moaning their names and begging for her alphas to help her for she don’t know why she feels like this and is scared.)

synopsis: After Wade discovers you're dealing with suicidal thoughts, he takes it upon himself to help you out, leading to one disaster after another.

author’s note: thank you so much to the lovely anon who requested this for spending so much time with me & making sure everything was juuuust right! Fun fact: we pined, started dating, and broke up, started dating again, and broke up again all before this was published 🙃 sorry everybody, it’s been a rocky road for the past… forever.

Standing guard after school for a few extra bucks is a pretty sweet deal, you have to admit. You mostly just sit around with a pair of binoculars munching on your snack of choice, using a gun loaded with tranquilizer darts to drop anyone who threatens the safety of the school and its residents. If given permission, or an order to do so, you can use your bow and arrow to really take down your enemies.

You’re pretty lucky in life overall, you also have to admit, with two alpha girlfriends and a variety of friends and acquaintances, not to mention the advantages your mutation gives you.

It makes you feel even more guilty for what you’re really thinking about right now. Not Ellie, not Yukio, not keeping an eye out for threats, nothing but a simple question:

Would it be more efficient to slit your wrists with the point of one of your arrows, or to fling yourself from the top of this turret? Which would hurt worse? You look from the sharp arrow you hold in your hand to the plush grass below, managed by some of the other students.

It’s far cheaper to pay students to maintain the yard and house, not to mention it gives students like you a way of earning the kind of spending money that other students receive from their parents or from jobs in town. Your post would be snatched up in no time if you were to pass.

Speaking of parents.

Your father’s exact words to your mother were “I hate that you use a highschool mistake to keep me trapped with you forever!” the last time you happened to hear them argue. They were no longer invited to parent-teacher conferences after that.

It’s a fine reason for him to be angry, but, unfortunately, you’re the highschool mistake he was talking about. The one he’s always talking about whenever they fight. Maybe if you were gone, he’d finally be free. Maybe you’d finally be free from his resentment. He, fortunately enough, rarely lashes out at you directly; however… There’s always been a distance.

Would he love you more if you were gone? If you saved him from… Well, you? You’ve always wanted him to love you, to look at you with something other than anger or resentment. Would he finally be proud of you, for owning up to every horrible thing you are and have done by paying the ultimate price? Would everyone?

You’re holding the bladed tip of the arrow right against your wrist, almost like a normal person might hold a bracelet to their wrist -- trying it on for size, without really thinking about it.

Suddenly, though, Wade’s here. And he’s definitely thinking about it. He yanks the arrow out of your hand, accidentally snapping the wood that makes up its length.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I- Uh, I don’t know,” you mumble, embarrassed, because you honestly don’t. Being alone with your thoughts gives them the space to grow from their poisoned roots into something dark you don’t really recognize as yours.

“You- You don’t know?!” Wade questions, and the unusual severity of his tone stuns you to the point of laughter. “This isn’t fucking funny, what the hell is wrong with you? Why were you-?! What were you-?! What the fuck are you doing?!”

“I’m standing guard. What the fuck are you doing?” you echo dryly, resorting to quips to avoid telling him any more than he already knows.

“I’m freaking out! I can’t kill you for apparently wanting to kill you, so that’s all I can do! I thought you were on antidepressants!”

“I am. Have been for years. They don’t cure depression, they make it easier to manage.”

“Apparently fucking not! Come on, let’s go talk to somebody and get you an appointment with a psychiatrist. You’ve been on the same prescription all these years, right? Maybe you just need your dosage upped.” Wade’s not asking, he’s telling, his hand wrapped around your bicep to pull you along, although his grip isn’t as tight as you’d expect for a man of his stature, let alone an alpha.

Why does he care so much? He’s always so gentle, even when you piss him off like this. Tears well up in your eyes but you blink hard. You know he’s been through worse. That most people here have. You have no right to cry.

Wade yells at a surprised Charles Xavier until an appointment is set up, which goes pretty well. Four days after that incident, you meet with the psychiatrist who agrees that upping your dosage is the smartest decision, frankly, she’s surprised it wasn’t done sooner. And, after about a week of your new dosage level, you’re feeling better than ever.

Way better.

“You… You’d really wanna do that? For everyone to know I’m yours?”

Ellie nods, cheeks darkened. You’re straddling her, and the two of you have been trading heated kisses with Yukio. Who would’ve thought more of the medication you were sure killed your libido before you could even develop one would be what rescued it?

“Of course we would. I know you don’t like to stereotype, but some of the stereotypes have truth to them. We’re… Territorial,” Yukio reminds you.

“I’m… A beta,” you remind her in a teasing echo of her tone.

“Our beta,” Ellie cuts back in. “Absolutely perfect.”

“Even if I’d rather not let you guys, y’know…” Your hand rubs at the space between your neck and your shoulder - where they’d likely mark you with their teeth - nervously. “...today? Or go farther than what we’re doing right now?”

“Of course, baby! The fact that you’ve even done this much…” Yukio trails off, looking over you. Your lips are swollen and still slightly parted as you continue to pant a little. The top few buttons of your (well, borrowed from Ellie) flannel are undone.

“We’re so grateful, and so proud of you,” Ellie continues, drawing your attention back to her. “We’re willing to wait as long as you need, even if that waiting only ends because you’ve decided that being with us like that isn’t something you want.”

“I do. I always have, I just… I don’t know.”

“The feeling’s still there, in your stomach, right?” Yukio wonders.

“Yeah, a little. It’s like… I know it’s not wrong, but something doesn’t feel quite right. Maybe I should just try to ignore it, I mean, you two have needs-”

“Hey. You know better than that, Y/N. We don’t, okay, babe? Not like that. We wanna have sex with you, not- Not hurt you. You understand that, right?” Ellie reassures you.

“I do, I just feel bad for being such a- I don’t know, a tease?”

“We love you. As in, you. If you forced yourself to do something you didn’t want to, just for us, how would we forgive ourselves?” Yukio says what she’s said a million times, but every time it surprises you. You tend to see yourself as only being valuable in what you can offer others— protection, a laugh, some good advice every now and then —you never expect anyone to care for you outside of that. But here they are. Absolutely perfect.

And you were thinking of flinging yourself off a tower a couple weeks ago. Should you tell them? They just think you went for an overdue checkup, which is technically the case. You don’t know what’s worse, hiding it or telling them. You’ll have to talk to Wade, he’s good at giving advice. Might not be good advice, but he’s definitely good at giving it.

“Everything okay, sharpshooter?” Ellie hands gently squeeze your hips to get your attention.

You blink back out of your thoughts, smiling a little and blushing at the nickname.

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Sorry, I just zoned out. I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.”

“Everything okay?” your alphas ask, again, in unison. Your alphas. They probably couldn’t handle it if you had a problem they couldn’t solve, the guilt of not being able to provide for you would overwhelm them.

“Yeah, totally,” you reply, because it is, now, especially here with them. Ellie starts to button up your flannel.

“Oh, we don’t have to-”

Ellie gives you a pointed look, then looks down at her crotch, then back up at you. Your blush deepens.

“Yeah, I’m guessing a cold shower’s in order,” Yukio agrees. “El, you can go first.”

“We can’t go together?” Ellie asks.

“Well, I don’t wanna leave Y/N alone. Our brave little beta did a lot more than usual. Don’t want you to feel used, baby,” Yukio explains to you both.

“Oh, duh,” Ellie agrees. You give her a quick smooch on the forehead before dismounting her and allowing yourself to be pulled into Yukio’s arms. Ellie grabs some clean clothes and heads off. As soon as the door shuts, Yukio giggles, and you look to her with a curious, confused expression.

“Now you’re all mine to cuddle.” Yukio gloats, kissing the top of your head. “Mm… You smell really good, babe. New shampoo?”

“Ish, yeah,” you agree, despite the fact that you started using it nearly a month ago at this point. Maybe the body heat you built up from the makeout session made it smell stronger, though.

Yukio keeps sniffing you, but you don’t call her out on it. She’s a little bit quirky, sure, but there’s no need to make her feel self-conscious about it when the tickling sensation feels kinda nice. She tosses in a few soft presses of her lips against your skin, too, so it’s not like she’s the only one who benefits.

Yukio eventually stops this, though, instead requesting to scent you. You’ve told the girls before that they don’t have to ask, but they— especially Yukio —seem to prefer to. You figure it’s likely to reassure them that you not only tolerate but appreciate their alphahood.

“I love you, you know that? Not just ‘cause you make me smell like petrichor. I’m surprised Ellie doesn’t spend all day huffing your scent, I… I know I would, if I could smell it.” You didn’t mean for the sad envy to ring so clearly in your words, but it’s as sharp as a knife, cutting deep enough to make Yukio gasp softly with sympathy as she rubs your wrist against her scent gland, eyes snapping open.

“Well, next time it’s about to rain, we’ll go outside, then. Every time it’s about to rain,” Yukio insists. “Who- Who told you?”

“Wade. I was just curious. He said Ellie smells like a campfire, the scent even clings like it. He even said I smell a little weird. Most betas smell like something, but I’m just… A blank canvas.”

You feel her rumble a bit with a growl, and her arms wrap tightly around you… Protectively? You blush.

“Y-Yukio?” you nervously ask, caught off guard. Ellie’s usually more of the growling type. Yukio’s pretty good about keeping her possessiveness and any other “negative” alpha traits in check. This side of her doesn’t come out often.

“What was he doing that close to you?” she snarls protectively, and if the growl wasn’t enough to get your heart racing, that was. “Sm- Smelling you?”

“Yukes, Wade’s the same age as my parents. Honestly, he’s- He’s kinda- He’s nice to me. We’re friends. I think if he was going to hurt me, he would’ve done it by now. You two keep forgetting I’m just a beta. No one wants a piece of this pie except for you and Ellie.”

“You’d be surprised at the way some alphas… It’s sick, but they- Because betas, you know, they don’t really produce slick like omegas do, and they don’t have quite as much give, uh… So, some alphas, um, they… Just let me hold you, okay?” Yukio requests. “I can’t talk about it, it’ll make me too mad.”

“I respect that. Thank you. I, uh, I didn’t realize that at all, so thank you for helping me be even safer,” you reassure her. She’s trembling. “Do you want me to hold you, instead?”

“No, no, this will make me feel better. I just… I love you. Can you just…? Just- Just say you’re mine.” This is a request Yukio has semi-often. When she feels weak in comparison to other alphas, when she feels overshadowed by Ellie, any time she needs reassurance or is just feeling bad, she’ll probably ask. You get it, being hers (and Ellie’s, of course) makes you feel better, too.

“I’m yours, Yukio. Always yours. You make me so happy, both of you. Happier than- You make me feel so-“ You get a bit choked up. These girls, these alphas… They’re so important to you.

“Oh, no, baby, please don’t cry,” Yukio implores, watching your eyes water. You turn so that your face doesn’t just rest on her chest but is buried in it.

“It’s just that no one ever loved me before you two. No one, ever. Not my parents, not my ’friends,’ no one. I don’t know why I’ve been so emotional lately, I’m sorry.”

“No one at all?” Yukio questions, but that’s the missing puzzle piece, she realizes. You’re always treating hers and Ellie’s love for you like it’s something you have to earn, no matter how much they insist being yourself is enough. She fully grasps now that it’s never been enough before.

She holds you even tighter.

“Mm-mm,” you confirm, shaking your head a little. “You and Ellie just mean the whole world to me. And- And… Wade’s my friend, too. Can I still, y’know, spend time with him?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I just- He’s a nice guy, but… I don’t want him to put you in danger. You can handle yourself, though. Can’t you, sharpshooter?” Her fingers trickle up your ribs as she says the nickname, making you giggle and squirm.

“Absolutely, but it is nice to have two strong, sexy alphas take care of me instead every now and then,” you admit, albeit a bit teasingly, blushing softly. You turn back so that you can see her adorable face.

“Really?” Yukio asks, but she knows.

“Really,” you agree with a smile.

“I’m yours, too. You know that, right?” Yukio checks, fiddling with your hair a bit.

“Mhm. It’s nice to hear you say it like that, though.”

“I can think of other ways you might like to hear it,” Yukio flirts.

“Yeah, you think so? Show me,” you tease back.

“I will…” Yukio trails off as she trails her finger along your jaw, tipping your head up to the perfect kissing angle and- “Eventually, little beta.”

“I- I’m taller than you,” you weakly protest.

“Your breath still hitched,” Yukio reminds you with a giggle and a gentle tap on the tip of your nose.

You stutter a little more before giving up, burying your face again and whining.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I just can’t help myself. You’re too cute,” Yukio half-heartedly apologizes, still chuckling to herself as she strokes your back.

Ellie returns from her shower, inky tendrils of hair ruffled around but with no product in.

“She’s asleep?” Ellie asks, sounding a bit disappointed, but there’s still a significant amount of fondness in her tone.

“She’s not,” you mumble back, and both girls chuckle, Yukio untangling herself from you. You can’t help but pout a little, already missing the bubblegum-haired alpha.

“I know Yukio’s your favorite, but you could at least act a little bit happy to see me,” Ellie half-jokes, and you smile, pulling (though she doesn’t give any resistance) the girl back into your bed. She holds you the same way Yukio did, but you don’t really mind the lack of variety.

“You’re both my favorite,” you argue. Ellie takes a deep breath, likely taking in the way you’re completely embraced by Yukio’s scent.

“I don’t think that’s how favorites work,” she chuckles.

“Out of all the people in the world, you two are both my favorite,” you insist. She takes the hand you have resting on her ribcage and holds it inches from her scent gland. “Please,” you say, before she can even ask. Ellie takes a whiff again.

“Did she leave anywhere untouched?” She wonders.

“N-not really,” you stutter, because now you’re thinking of where she didn’t touch you.

“Well, she’ll have to share a little, then,” Ellie says.

You hum with delight as she scents you.

“You make a new friend?” Ellie questions.

“Huh?”

“You smell… Different,” she responds, looking at you… Well, differently. “Like roses.”

“I have a new-ish shampoo?” You offer, but that just seems to intensify the look.

Your phone rings. It’s Wade. You wriggle out of Ellie’s loose hold on you, answering.

“Hey, you know how I’m your academic advisor?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Well, apparently, thwarting your suicide attempts isn’t my only job. I also have to tell you when they need you in the office, which is now.”

“Seriously?! I didn’t even throw that pencil at Richard, and even if I did, he deserved it for being such a-“

“Oh, right! Should’ve opened with the good news. Your parents are here to visit.”

“What?! That’s-“ You sigh, not wanting to alarm Ellie any more than you already have. “Okay. I’ll be there. Just give me a second to get dressed.”

“Wow, no shame at all. I salute you. Toodles!” Wade hangs up before you realize he misunderstood you.

“What’s wrong?” Ellie asks.

“Nothing, just… My parents are here.”

“Your… Parents?”

“Kind of have to have those to exist, usually,” you remark, and she snorts.

“I know- I- Well, we’ve known each other for a while, and you don’t really talk about them, so I sort of assumed…” Ellie trails off.

“Oh, um, yeah, no, they’re very alive,” you confirm with an awkward chuckle.

“Right. I’ll go get ‘Kio, and we’ll all go, okay?”

“Uh- Um- Yeah.”

“What is it?”

“My parents, they kind of… They- I love you. And I’m not ashamed of you.”

“But they’ll be ashamed of you,” Ellie understands.

“I haven’t seen them in so long, they don’t even know that I like girls, let alone that I’m dating two, or that they’re both alphas… I want you and Yukio to come with me, but, if they start to- If they’re how they are, I-“

“Give my energy to helping you instead of hurting them,” Ellie uses Piotr’s words.

“Perfect,” you agree, and Ellie smiles back, but it falters. You didn’t mean to worry her so much.

“I’ll go get Yukio. You get changed, okay?”

“Mhm,” you agree, and she heads off to the bathroom. You steal one of Ellie’s band tees and an oversized cardigan of Yukio’s for comfort, finding a pair of high-waisted bottoms to tuck the tee shirt in. You throw on a pair of sneakers, and when the girls emerge from the bathroom, you pop in to freshen up.

Once you’re done, Yukio’s caught up on the situation and the three of you make your way to the front offices.

Wade meets you outside.

“Oh em gee, Y/N, you’ll never believe it, I actually went to high school with both of your parents.”

“Uh… Cool?” You respond, because you’re not entirely sure how to.

“Yeah, uh, I get now that it’s probably not really good news that they’re here, huh? No wonder I found you doing that the other day.”

“Doing what?” Yukio and Ellie ask, though for some reason, Ellie’s is tinged with suspicion, maybe even anger.

“I- Listen, it’s not a big deal, I got my prescription updated and all that good stuff, okay?” You prime them. “I was thinking about killing myself the other day and Wade caught me.”

“Thinking?! You’re gonna call holding the fucking tip of an arrow to your wrist thinking?!”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Ellie sounds as angry as Wade does, but she looks pained. This is why you didn’t tell them.

“Hey, she doesn’t need this right now,” Yukio argues, but she looks hurt, too.

“I mean, I was just considering if it would be more painful than jumping off of the turret,” you mumble, your defense embarrassingly weak.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Ellie decides, and Yukio nods. You three follow Wade to Xavier’s office. Wade breezes in, but you’re practically stuck in the doorway, nervous to look at even the backs of their heads, before they turn around.

“Y/N,” your mom says with a grin, but you know all too well how fake that is. She approaches you, pulls you into a hug, and you want nothing more than to push her away and scrub yourself clean. She doesn’t really love you. The second you speak out of turn, or make a mistake, or give her any excuse, she’ll remind you of your worth. (Or, rather, the lack thereof.)

She slips back into her seat next to your father, in front of the desk where Xavier sits, simply observing.

“It’s been so long,” your father says, but his smile is almost blatantly fake. “Your hair, it’s different.”

“Like you said, it’s been a while,” you say, giving a grimace and an awkward chuckle.

“I don’t think I like it,” he says, like he’s giving his opinion on a sculpture in an art exhibit by some long-dead artist who doesn’t care what he thinks. Like it’s something just… Objective.

“Not sure what to do about that,” you reply sheepishly.

You don’t fully realize that you’re holding Ellie’s hand until she squeezes it reassuringly, three times. A secret code. You step further in to make room for the girls.

“So, uh, I have to ask… Why the sudden visit?”

“Well, we got an e-mail about your medicine, and we wanted to come check on you. Make sure this is the right environment for you,” your mother explains.

“You weren’t sure before you stopped talking to me for two years?” You half-joke, playing dumb.

“Has it really been two years?” A normal person would be asking this rhetorically, and they’d be embarrassed. Your mother, though, is simply trying to gaslight you.

“Longer,” you assure her.

“I thought this place was supposed to provide conversion therapy,” your father says, eyeing your hand, then Ellie’s other hand. “You’re such a fucking liar,” he hisses to your mother.

“Wow, maybe my mom dying when I was young was for the best. Better than this for sure,” Wade jokes, gently elbowing your side. You chuckle, grateful for even the slightest ounce of comic relief.

“You’re even more of a freak than you were in high school.” You squeeze Ellie’s hand tight as your father’s expression darkens even further.

“Funny you should say that, considering-“

“Wade,” your mother cuts him off.

That’s weird, to say the least. You just file that away for later. You have bigger fish to fry, like surviving this visit.

“Y/N, why’d you go for a check-up at all? You barely needed the anti-depressants in the first place,” your mother wonders.

“Because it wasn’t barely. Why else would they raise the dosage?” You ask, and the expression on her face is as stupid as the question she asked.

“Don’t speak to her that way,” your father scolds, like he didn’t just call your mother a fucking liar himself. “You are so ungrateful for everything we’ve done for you, do you realize that?”

“I’m sorry, what have you done for her, exactly? Answer quickly, please,” Ellie retorts.

“El-“ you start, but realize this isn’t anger, but advocacy.

“Well, we sheltered and fed her for over a decade,” your father remarks, smirking like he’s won.

“That’s your job!” Wade argues.

“Mr. and Mrs. L/N… I politely asked that you refrain from visiting the campus, and while I appreciate your concern for Y/N’s well-being, I must ask that you remain respectful of her, her fellow students, and my staff. Causing unnecessary conflict is exactly the reason you were almost banned when you last visited,” Professor Xavier finally speaks.

“Almost banned?!” Wade wheezes.

“Yeah,” you sigh, and Wade’s laughter immediately ceases. “I was cheating in school, according to- To Dad.” The word is poison in your mouth.

“Come on, we all know you’re not smart enough to get those grades on your own. Probably screwing some teacher, just like Mom.”

“That’s enough,” Ellie snarls, eyes glowing orange.

“I never screwed a teacher!” Your mother protests at the same time.

“Oh, that’s right, you just blew Mr. Morin. My bad. Wow, Y/N, you really must be something special for all these alphas to be fawning over you. Maybe I did fuck up once or twice, after all, I’ve heard daddy issues-“

“Well, you visited! Now get the fuck out,” Wade chirps.

“Mr. L/N, must I repeat myself? I know you and Mrs. L/N were interested in a tour. Perhaps a less crowded area would help ease your minds,” Xavier reminds you all of his presence once more.

“That sounds like a great idea,” your father agrees.

“I’m starting to get a bit of a headache, maybe you could show us your room first and I could lie down for a bit in there?”

“I-“ You look to the girls, not wanting them to have to deal with her alone.

“Actually, Miss Phimister and Miss Kitsuna would be perfect additions to a rescue team. The orphanage your friend Russell came from was actually part of a network for mutant trafficking, and we found another hub in Maine. The jet takes off in fifteen minutes, and you two will be back in time for dinner. Better get ready and briefed.”

“But-“ Yukio starts, looking to you.

“Go, be superheroes,” you tell them, and they head out. “Uh, how about we swing by the library first, to give them time to change, and then to our room?”

“You share a room with them? Somehow, I’m not surprised.”

“We were roommates before we started dating,” you correct him.

“Dating… Aw, I bet you really think that’s what it is, too. Having parents in a sham of a marriage really did a number on you, huh?” Your father condescends.

“You know, it’s pretty fucked up how fixated you are on her sexuality. Do you like to picture it, you goddamn creep?” Wade defends you, and your skin crawls. You’d never thought of it that way before.

“Let’s just get that tour started, ‘kay?” You squeak. The sooner you get this over with, the sooner they’ll be on their way, hopefully.

“Good idea, Y/N,” Wade says. “Come on, Textbook, let’s go.”

“You didn’t just call me-“

“Oh, but I did, Textbook. Hey, Y/N, did you know that was your dad’s nickname in highschool? ‘Cause he was so fuckin’ easy to shove in a locker.”

You cover your mouth with your hand, trying not to laugh and failing.

“Just show us the library already, Y/N,” your mother says, pinching the bridge of her nose.

You take your parents to the library, as requested. Wade keeps pace with you while your parents fall back. You can’t hear their exact words, but you know your parents are bickering.

“You never said it was this bad.”

“It’s not that bad. It’s definitely been worse,” you admit, busying your eyes with the paintings that line the walls so that you don’t have to meet Wade’s gaze. You might just cry if you do; you can feel the sympathy radiating off of him.

In these past few months, Wade’s been more of a father than your dad, even more of a mother than your mom, but for some reason that doesn’t make you feel more justified in how you feel about your parents. In fact, it just makes you feel worse, and even if you’ve never actually expressed it, you’re still ashamed of the fact that you wish Wade was your father instead. He actually cares, while your parents are simply legally obligated.

From the day you met, Wade’s always been there for you. If you were to tell your parents what you almost did the other day, they’d just call you attention-seeking and insult you in other ways. All they’d do is make you want to try again.

You and Wade stop at the entrance to the library and wait for your parents to catch up. They do, and you open the double doors to reveal the room.

“It’s like Beauty and the Beast,” your mother gapes.

“I thought so, too,” you agree, attempting a smile, but your parents just ignore you, wandering around the large room. Your mother excuses herself after a few minutes of spinning, saying that the dizziness is making her headache worse.

“All these books and you’re still… The way you are,” your father comments, looking at you with such disdain.

“Winner of the science fair with her loving partners, three years in a row?” Wade questions. “Oh, or maybe you’re talking about the fact that she’s a published poet. How embarrassing for you, I’m sure.”

“Wade,” you protest under your breath, embarrassed. They don’t even know that stuff. After middle school, you stopped telling them about your accomplishments. You figured out that all they’d do is ruin them for you.

“No, no, trust me. It’s more about the fact that she’s slutting around with alphas and won’t even save us the embarrassment of them being girls,” you father spats.

“That’s enough,” Wade snarls.

“Oh, that’s right, we can’t forget that she’s yours, too. I guess anything with a dick is daddy considering I was too busy putting food on the table to play dollies,” he remarks, and you suddenly feel light-headed.

“Seriously, Textbook, I really don’t want to hurt you, especially not in front of Y/N, but I fucking will if you make me.”

“Just go,” you urge Wade, starting to feel a bit dizzy, surely from the stress. You brace yourself on him, disguising it as a touch meant to comfort him. He looks concerned as the edges of your vision start to darken a little.“I- What you’re doing, I appreciate it, but-“

“You appreciate it? You appreciate him disrespecting me, disrespecting our family?!”

“Our family?!” You finally snap. “All I ever wanted was for you to love me, and you couldn’t do that. You just couldn’t. And now we’re a family?! No. No, you…” You start to pant, your face feeling even hotter than before. “You… I hate you,” you manage to get out before your world goes completely dark.

“Fuck yeah, Y/N! I’m so prou-“

But when Wade turns to you, you’re halfway to the ground. He catches you, though, and he catches a whiff of something… Familiar.

Lavender. It’s not just the Wilson scent, sure, but it’d be too much of a coincidence. You smell just like him. You are him, or, rather, made of him.

He’s torn between ecstatic and furious.

“Hey, can we get some help over here?” your father calls out to no one. It’s not a school day, and lots of students are out on missions. He reaches out to you for once in your life, but Wade’s now sitting on the floor, cradling you in his arms.

“No,” Wade argues. “Not yours. Mine.”

“What?” You father asks incredulously. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“She’s. Not. Yours,” Wade repeats, and the more he inhales your scent, the more out of control yet calm he feels. Like he’s in the eye of a hurricane. “My baby. Mine.”

“You’re not saying…” your father trails off as Wade gets up, still cradling you. Wade has to take you to your room; help make you a nest, now. He can smell it on you.

You’re in heat.

He gets to your room quickly, practically tossing you onto your bed. Wait… Isn’t your mom supposed to be here?

And that’s when he hears the sound of pills spilling onto the floor.

He nearly rips the bathroom door off of its hinges. Luckily, your mother spilled what Wade quickly realizes is suppressants, and not your prescription.

“You. You could’ve killed her. You are very, very lucky that my baby-“

“Our baby,” your mother corrects.

“No, you take pills, you can’t even smell her, let alone feel her like I can. It- It’s so much it fucking hurts. I’ll say it again, you’re very lucky my baby is in heat, or your arteries would be emptying in that shower. Now, go. Don’t come back.”

You groan in pain, stirring, and your mother takes Wade’s advice. Wade calls Yukio. Then Ellie. Then Yukio. Then Ellie.

“What the fuck, dude?!”

“You need to turn around. Now. I don’t have the time to explain. It’s Y/N.”

“Is she okay?” Ellie, always skeptical, asks.

“Obviously fucking not, or I wouldn’t be calling. She’s in heat.”

“But-“

“I said that I don’t have time to explain, fucking turn around! I’m on the verge of going fucking feral, Ellie. You both need to get here, now.”

“Wade, get out,” Ellie immediately demands.

“I can’t,” he admits.

“Get out! Shit, Wolverine! We need to turn around!”

“I can’t. It’s not like that I swear, it’s… I’m going fucking crazy, just one of you will do, but someone needs to get here.”

“Wade, go.”

“I would never hurt her! Come home!” Wade barks before hanging up. He returns to your room to find you’ve made a nest instinctively - thank goodness for Yukio’s affinity for pillows and blankets - and now you’re curled up in pain in the center of it.

“Wade,” you whimper. He’s scared to step closer, not sure if he’s what you want, even if you despise who you thought was your father. “What’s happening to me? Everything hurts.”

“I really don’t know how to say this, but… You’re in heat.”

“But I’m a beta,” you argue, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“That’s what we all thought. But… Remember how you didn’t smell like anything before? Uh, let me start over. When did you start on your anti-depressants?”

“I was about twelve,” you confirm, not sure what that means.

“Yeah, I think those were suppressants. That it’s always been suppressants, no matter what the bottles said. Until you got a prescription without your mother knowing. Do you understand why your mother would do that?”

You shake your head, and he approaches the bed, sitting down carefully as not to disturb your work.

“Her boyfriend around the time she got pregnant with you was a beta. We know him as Textbook,” Wade teases, before continuing: “But, what no one realizes is that he was at Niagara Falls on spring break around the time when you were conceived, and she was hanging out with her next-door neighbor the whole time. Her next-door neighbor was me.”

“Oh, so I’m your highschool mistake,” you say, connecting the dots.

“Huh?”

“Ha, well, whenever my parents- Well, I guess not my parents, but that’s beside the point, uh, whenever they argue and it gets really bad, my father- Well, not my father, but, uh-“

“Continue,” Wade urges.

“Basically, sometimes he uses ‘a mistake I made in highschool’ as code for ‘Y/N,’” you explain. “But the truth is, I’m the mistake you made in highschool.”

“You’re not a mistake,” he disagrees. “You’re- You’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. Lots of things are made by accident, but that doesn’t make them mistakes! Penicillin, potato chips, Post-It notes, popsicles! They were never supposed to exist but they do and the world is much better off with them in it.”

“You really do have a lot of useless knowledge,” you realize.

“So do you, that’s why our team always wins trivia night.” Wade slips off his boots, joining you in your rearranged bed. “C’mere,” he suggests, guiding your head to his neck.

“S’really you,” you mumble, already weary, and Wade worries for what’s to come. He almost doesn’t even want to let the girls in. He could get you pain medicine, he could probably even find sedatives. Then no one would ever be able to even touch you, let alone hurt you. “Lavender. You never mentioned the lavender, just the sandalwood.”

“I didn't think you’d be impressed,” Wade admits.

“It’s relaxing,” you tell him. “It’s nice to have things in common with someone.”

“You smell like roses, too, not just lavender,” he makes sure you know.

“Yeah, but I think that’s mostly concentrated in an area I’d rather not discuss with you.”

“Well, just make sure that if you do decide to do anything more with them than cuddle, which I can gladly go through the rest of my life without knowing, bee-tee-dubs, that the girls are wearing alpha condoms, especially if one of them knots you. Standard condoms work in a pinch if it’s just for one, y’know, go, but for heats they’re basically useless because of everything I just said. If they hurt you, I will make their deaths look like accidents.”

“S’not like I can get pregnant anyway…” You mumble, embarrassed. “I’m- I’m really glad it’s you. I- I wished so many times that it was you instead of him. Ow, ugh, that one was bad,” you groan, massaging your stomach.

Meanwhile, on the jet, Ellie is furious with herself.

“Yukio, you don’t get it, I smelled her. She smelled like an omega, but I thought- I assumed she was cheating on us. That maybe she didn’t want to be with us like that was because she wanted to- I don’t know, to be on top? It seems so stupid now.”

“Hey, I noticed she smelled different, too. There were other signs we both missed, anyways. Think about how emotional she’s been lately, or how much farther we’ve been going in other ways. How clingy she’s been, too.”

“I guess I didn’t really notice it because I liked her being more open and needing us more,” Ellie admits. “She- She almost fucking killed herself. And I thought cheating was what she was hiding. I- I just-“

“You can’t beat yourself up over it,” Yukio insists. “We’re on our way back, and Wade’s there to protect her.”

Speaking of Wade being there to protect you, he continues to comfort you as the pain gets worse.

“S’too hot,” you complain, and he releases you from his hold, rising from the bed. He knows he’ll have to leave you soon, because you’re likely going to need privacy before the girls get home, but it’s hard to part from you knowing you’re in pain.

“I’m gonna get you some water, okay? And after that, I’m just gonna stand guard outside the door until your girls get here. I know there’s some stuff you need to do, and that’s only gonna get worse.”

“It’s already awful,” you admit, and he chuckles.

“Good luck, kid. I love you.”

Wade gets a case of bottled water from the school’s industrial-sized pantry, bringing it to your room and tearing it open for you before leaving once more. You take one, immediately guzzling it down.

In privacy, you take off Yukio’s cardigan and your bottoms, leaving you in Ellie’s tee shirt and your underwear. You decide to go ahead and free yourself from the constriction that is your bra, feeling a bit embarrassed that you’re not leaving much to the girls’ imagination for your first time together. You eventually decide to undress completely, wondering when the hell your girls are gonna get here.

#a/b/o #yukisonic #yukisonic x reader #yukio x reader #negasonic teenage warhead x reader #ellie phimister x reader #yukio imagine #negasonic teenage warhead imagine #ellie phimister imagine #yukio #negasonic teenage warhead #ellie phimister #x-men imagine #x-men fanfiction #sapphic x reader #sapphic imagine #wlw x reader #wlw imagine

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is-it-art-tho · 3 years

Text

Summary: A mission gone awry, too many memories, too much blood, and not enough time. Bruce races to save a son he couldn't save before.

Prologue, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, Ch. 7, Ch. 8

___________

Now.

“—can’t…br…brea…” Jason choked, blood spilling from the corners of his mouth.

Bruce’s hands were pressed to the wound in his abdomen as hard as he dared without doing more damage. His gloves and belt had been taken earlier that day, so now, even in the balmy summer rain, Jason’s blood felt uncomfortably warm on his bare skin.

“W-where…?” The younger man’s eyes swiveled wildly, disoriented and searching.

“He’s gone.” After what Bruce had done to the assassin, he didn’t even bother glancing to make sure the man was still unconscious. It was an outrageous mercy that the man would ever wake up at all.

“Could…b’m-more…”

“There aren’t. Stop talking.”

It seemed Jason was about to say something else—his lips parting again—but instead the younger man began to gurgle and choke. Bruce tilted him sideways so that he could cough up the blood before it ran down his throat.

“Oracle?” Bruce demanded, a finger to his ear.

“You two on your way bac—?”

“Nearest hospital.”

“Oh, uh”—the patter of keys— “about forty minutes east of you.”

Damn it. “The Berlin cave. What’s the medical designation?”

“Two.”

Certainly not his most equipped base, but it wasn’t nothing. At the very least, it would be enough to stabilize Jason for transport to an actual trauma center.

“What’s going on?” she asked now, her tone still carefully restrained.

He eyed a car parked a few feet away. “Change of plans. I need you to make sure the path is clear between us and the cave. No stops. And have Dr. Ziegler meet us there.”

“Done. Are you guys alright? Is Hood—”

“Just make sure the roads are clear.” He cut the line and redirected his attention to Jason, who was staring up at him. Red streaks covered one side of his face from where the blood had run out of his mouth.

“I…hate…Germany,” the young man croaked.

Bruce slid his arm under Jason and pulled him up, cringing as Jason cried out and hunched forward in pain.

“Come on," the older man urged. We—”

*******************

Then.

“—have to go. Where is he?” ” Bruce was standing beside the open batmobile, shifting his weight impatiently.

Alfred checked his watch. “I haven’t heard from him since this weekend.”

Bruce exhaled sharply through his nose, torn between concern and annoyance. This would not be the first time Jason had gone rogue without informing the rest of the team. But he had thought—or at least hoped—that they had moved beyond that stage.

With another sigh, he climbed into the driver’s seat.

“You’re leaving without him?” Alfred asked. The question sounded neutral enough, but Bruce knew the older man well enough to catch the edge of disapproval.

“Going to find him,” Bruce corrected. It wouldn’t be easy if Jason didn’t want it to be. But, then again, Bruce had a lot of experience finding people who didn’t want to be found.

The roof of the car had not even closed halfway when the elevator doors slid open and Jason slouched into the cave.

“Sorry, m’late,” he muttered. His voice, already muffled by the helmet, came out sounding more like a sigh or a groan than actual speech.

Bruce watched from the car as the eighteen-year-old trudged toward him, his movements just a little clumsier, a little more sluggish than usual.

“I thought you were planning on riding here,” he asked as Jason got in the passenger side—a move which caused even Alfred to shoot Bruce a surprised glance. Bruce couldn’t remember the last time Jason ridden with him by choice. “Where’s your bike?”

“Tire blew,” Jason grunted, reclining the seat and tilting his head back.

“Everything okay?”

“Peachy,”

There was nothing remotely satisfying with this response, but they were already late, so with a quick press of a button, Bruce spurred the massive engine to life. The platform beneath them rotated to aim them towards the tunnel, and as it did, Jason groaned and sighed.

“What is going on?” Bruce demanded, cutting the car off again.

“Nothing. Geez. Can we just go?”

Silence.

“Oh my God. You’re kidding me,” Jason moaned.

Bruce just stared at him, and Jason matched the older man’s stare with his own until Bruce decided the silence had gone on long enough. The older man raised his voice: “Computer. Biometrics for Hood—comma—Red.”

Jason’s head swiveled toward the dashboard as the monitors there blinked on. “What the—”

“Blood alcohol,” Bruce requested.

“What are you doing?”

One of the screens read Processing… before it answered, “Blood alcohol content for Hood—comma—Red. Zero point zero.”

“Controlled substances?” Bruce asked.

This time Jason’s head swung back towards the older man. Even with the helmet on, his anger and indignance were palpable.

The robotic voice responded, “Negative.”

“You think I’m drunk and high?” Jason demanded.

“I’m just trying to get some answers.”

“And that’s what you start with? Also: when the hell did you put scanners in my helmet? I made this mysel—” He broke off in a coughing fit that left him bent over and groaning.

Bruce studied him for a moment before saying, “You’re sick.”

“That’s what they tell me,” he rasped, pressing the button on the side of his helmet to take it off and let it fall to the floor.

“Jason…"

“I’m fine.”

Bruce took in the sheen along the teen’s face, glinting in the pale blue glow from the dashboard monitors. Damp hair dangled from his bowed head, and each labored breath carried an unnerving rattle from deep in the young man’s chest.

“Computer—”

“Goddam—"

“Hood—comma—Red. Body temp, please.”

“One hundred and two point three,” the computer supplied.

“It’s mild,” the teen countered, leaning back again.

“It’s not. Why didn’t you just tell me? I can handle patrol on my own.”

“Because I’m a grown man and I don’t need everyone making a big deal every time I get the sniffles.”

“This is your body’s way of telling you to go easy. If you’re not careful you’ll make it worse.”

“Whatever. Just drive.”

“You need to be home.”

“Yeah, I’ll take a real long nap right after we get back. Now will you please just drive the freaking car.”

“Why are you being so stubborn? There’s no need for you to run yourself into the—"

“Because I want to, okay?” Jason snapped. Over the younger man’s shoulder, Bruce watched Alfred jump and look towards them. Bruce shook his head just enough, and Alfred nodded back, his posture relaxing.

This wasn’t one of those fights. Not yet anyway.

Jason’s head thumped back into the seat and he stared ahead as he added, “Please.”

And only then did Bruce realize why this exchange felt so familiar. It was the Watchtower all over again. A young, borderline self-destructive boy with something to prove. Even if Bruce held his ground, he already knew without a doubt that Jason would end up out there anyway and would probably stay out extra long just to show that he could, even if doing so landed him in the hospital.

Reluctantly, Bruce started the engine again. The teen glanced at him in surprise.

“We’re keeping it short,” Bruce clarified. “And you’re staying here tonight.”

Jason looked at him, not agreeing but not arguing either, which the older man decided to accept as a win.

“Seatbelt,” he ordered, and the boy obeyed begrudgingly. Then in the blink of an eye, they were soaring down the tunnel, barreling towards the city.

#a little bit louder now #batfam fanfiction #batfam fanfic #batman fic #batman fanfiction #jason todd #jason todd whump #whump #whump fic #red hood #bruce wayne #batman #hurt/comfort #sickfic

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vnckocurzyca · 4 years

Text

New chapter new analysis

I’m publishing it one more time because it didnt show in tags for some reason???

I put it under “read more” so maybe now.

I finally read translation so I can finally write something about the new chapter. I know people’s strong feelings towards it and I think it’s totally understandable huh

I, personally, liked this chapter even if I think it was creepy as fuck. But I know Jun’s work and how she writes her stories and I know that she purposely made it really uncomfortable. I think this chapter was made to be upsetting because what happened during it was kinda important?

Warning; LONG POST (contains spoilers to new chapter)

First thing - Noe was forced to see some Vanitas’s memories. Of course by Misha eyes, but still it’s Vanis past. And as we know already, Vanitas REALLY didn’t want Noe to know about anything his past-related. He even threated him that he would kill you if Noe would someday try to drink his blood. So it’s opening for totally new conflict. We have two options

Vanitas would come to place and see Noe drinking Mishas blood and it would be horrible

Vanitas wouldn’t see it and Noe would live in sting of remorse and we know how emotional Noe is and it would be also horrible. And this option also has 2 options

Noe would finally tell Vani that he drank Mishas blood and it would be horrible

Misha would tell Vanitas that Noe drank his blood and it also would be horrible

When Noe started drinking Mishas blood he walked into a trap and there is no escape now. Vanitas is going to KNOW this and its going to be a problem, because knowing Vanis past, memories and emotions was a borderline in their relationship - Noe didn’t get a permission to step over it. And now he just... steped, because of Mishas blackmail.

Also the whole scene was made to be creepy - we can clearly see that Noe is distraught and scared and uncomfortable. We can hear his thoughts, we can see his terrified face

He is terrified for A LOT of reasons. A lot.

He is scared of Domis life. He don’t know what is going on with her and she is unconscious and she can literally DIE. Domi is his best friend, his childhood friend and nearly all family he has left. Domi is the closest person to him and he can’t just lose her like he lost Louis.

He DON’T WANT to read Vanitas’s past without his permission and knowledge. Its awful, it’s non consensual and non-con it’s something Noe hates, because, even if he would like to know Vani’s past (what he said back before Gevaudan arc) he don’t want to know it without Vanis consenst and he didn’t push. And now he is forced to see them, to betray Vani’s trust.He, probably, hates himself thanks to it.

He is blackmailed, bullied and intimidated which is bad on it’s own. He has absolutely NO CONTROL over a situation, he is absolutely subordinated and can’t do anything to change his situation. It’s scary.

He is forced to drink blood, which is a really intimate and delicate activity for him. He hates being forced to drink blood and forcing to drink blood, and, additionaly, Misha is a kid. Or, at least, he look like a kid (it’s hard to say his age for sure and how many years their past with Moreau happened). It’s gross, creepy and weird and Noe feels it. We can see him backing away from a fucking kid.

Jun did it purposely. Combine all of it, to made the horror moment for him, probably to break him in front o Misha.

The running thing in Vanitas no Carte is motif of Noe not having any control over anything in his life (even without his noticing). Noe never had a control over anything.

He didn’t have a control over his life during childhood, ie when he was sold on auction

He didn’t have any control over Louis’s death and curse. He couldn’t do anything to save him or to save other kids back then. He could do nothing.

He don’t have any control in general - he was trained by the Teacher to be his pupil. Noe don’t even know how big control Grandpa de Sade has over him and his doings.

He didn’t have any control when Domi found him at Orloks. She just kidnapped him to Altus.

He don’t have any control over his relationship with Jeanne - anytime he wants to talk to her or about her he is interuptted.

He didn’t want his blood be sucked by Ruthven and he didn’t want to Swear.

He don’t have any control now. He didn’t wanted to know Vanis past non consensualy, he didn’t wanted to drink Mishad blood, he don’t want to see Domi in this situation.

It’s a writing continuity. We are being told how little control Noe has over his (and others) life. It’s becaming a plot point. MochiJun knows what she is doing. She purposely made the whole chapter creepy and unsettling. She need us to know that what is happening right now is wrong - not only drinking blood from a 1/4 naked kid, but also the rest. Everything. That this chapter is traumatic - we literally touched Noes trauma, Domis trauma and Mishas trauma over a few pages and panels:

Dominique - we can see how she reacted to Louis death, how she wanted to make Noe feels better, why she changed her hairstyle and outfit, how she hated herself because it was her brother who died, not her. We can see it now - she is depressed, she hatees herself and would prefer to die over Louis. She was easy to catch for Misha.

Noe - we can see that he can do anything for Domi because she is his last friend, his family, last thing (person) he has. He can’t lose her, he is desperate and traumatized over Louis death so he can do anything, even suck Mishas blood and know Vanis past even if he hates it and its wrong for him.

Misha - we can see thanks to his flashbacks that it was hinted he was (if I undertand english correctly, sorry, it’s not my first language) se*//ually abused as a child. He thought his mother was possesed by devil, it was traumatizing on it’s own, but he was also dressed as a girl, physically abused and hit by his mother and used during her “sessions” with clients. Then he was kidnapped by Moreau who, probably, was experimenting on him just like on Vanitas - so Misha was abused again. And later Vanitas killed “father” what also traumatized him. His behaviour towards Noe it’s not really that suprising - its horrible and sad and heartbreaking knowing why Misha is that way, but its logical. It has sense. It’s just how his trauma made him.

Sooo do I think what happened in the chapter was good or okay? No. It was creepy and made me feel sick. But do I think Jun is bad for making it this way? No. I think her work is great, because she actually did planned it logically. She delivered TONS OF INFORMATIONS by only one chapter. Tons, about a lot of characters - Misha, Vanitas, Noe, Dominique, even Roland (he know Misha is one thing, but, also, why he was so beaten up? What happened my man? Who hurted you?) It wasn’t just gross pedo-fanservice some people accused it to be. (even if it was gross anyway och my gos this scene with Misha standing over Noe was frightening, I was just as scared as Noe, I felt like I was in his place and I was looking at Misha)

Also! I’m pretty sure one of the reason for Misha undressing his collar a little bit was for us (and maybe Noe too) to see his possesion mark on his arm. For some reason we, as an audience, need to know this.

But! We also get a lot of different informations -

Domi is a royal guard and is working in castle, so she probably knew Luca before and had contact with him or some other royal people. i think it’s interesting that she worked at castleas a royal guard.

Luca probably likes Domi and was worried about her. Also after knowing she is missing he decided to took direct actions, he is not passive.

Misha has Vanitas of the Blue Moon’s possesion mark on his hand. It’s really interesting, especially when we know that its his prosthetic arm. Somebody tried to cut his arm with a possesion mark and I bet it was Vanitas or Misha himself. Yet it DIDN’T work, mark of possesion is still here, above his prosthetic.

Noe “don’t know anything about Vanitas”. It was an important sentence. It was something that Noe need to know narratively speaking. It’s pushing the story forward, because Noe’s and Vani’s relationship is the core of the story. It was literally told in the first chapter that it’s a story about their journey.

Misha had a lot of bruises on his whole body after he was rescued. We knew he was beaten, but we could also see it’s evidence.

Mishas face when Noe drank his blood was similar to his mother face when a vampire drank his blood. It wasn’t accidental, we were shown his trauma and how it’s affected him.

Next thing I noticed:

In this panel, Misha looks A LOT like Vanitas. Og course he has child features and chubbier face, he has white(?) hair and eyelashes ets, but his mimic, his gaze, how one of his eyes is covered by hair and his words. Its literally how Vanitas’s panel would be draw. It’s really Vanitaish.

We also got some questions, like:

What happened to Misha and how he lost his hand?

What Luca ordered Jeanne? (probably to check out real Paris and maybe find Domi or Noe)

Why Mishas mark of possesions was so important for us to know?

Is that Roland met Misha in the past important?

Why was Roland so beaten up?

There was also one more thing. Jun is operating in her story not only by making parallels betweend her characters (ie Teacher and VotBM, or Astolfo nad Vanitas, or Louis and Domi etc) but also contrasts. The biggest contrast motif on the story are probably Vanitas and Noe thanks to not only their history, but also their appearance, personality, design of their clothes, their height, their names (Vanitas being related to death and vanity, Noe being related to saving and something biblical etc). Their whole characters are made constrast. And so we got here:

Vanitas and Misha are not made parallels, theyre made contrast.

Misha is looking from the upside, Vanitas is looking from the above, Mishas hair is white, Vanitas hair is black, Vani has a shadow over his face, misha is lighted. Misha has white eyelashes, Vani has black. Misha looks calm an suprised, Vani looks stressed. Their whole “atmosphere” is different. Even if Misha is bruised in this panel he looks clean, even angelic, when Vanitas looks... bad, he has dark circles under eyes, wrinkled eyebrows, bandage etc. They’re made to contrast themselves, not to be compared to. It’s the next hint about their role in the story I suppose. That they’re not similar, they’re not the same and there is something basically different about their roles.

I would also like to write about shadow and light work in this chapter, but I’m just really tired right now, soo here it is! My analyze od the new chapter, or, at least, the most important parts of it (for me). I liked it in general, but it was... stressed and I was anxious about this chapter for the one whole day. But in general I think Jun did gods work with delivering informations she wanted to delivere.

#the case study of vanitas #vanitas no carte #vanitas no shuki #long post #vanitas #misha #dominique de sade #noe archiviste

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herohotline · 5 years

Text

“Why Would You Want Me?”

Pairing: Hitoshi Shinso/You

Summary: Telling the story of how you and Hitoshi became friends, how he doesn’t know how to deal, and how you fall for him anyways.

Word Count: 2,300+

A/N: i kinda went fuckin OFF on this one. Hopefully, yall like all the small things i put in!

Boredom.

That’s what Shinso felt most days- boredom and a constant ache in his jaw that begged him to yawn. There’s another feeling there, lingering around the back of his mind that makes him drag his feet and look at the tile when he walks in crowded hallways. It’s something similar to depression, and if that’s what it is- he supposes it was only a matter of time.

He knows better than anyone else that he’s playing a part in his own apathetic and withdrawn behavior. Shinso knows that life could- would- be better than this if he tried a little harder, but he couldn’t find the effort in him to do so.

His heart yearns for the life of a hero. But his mind? It’s so stuck in his own misery that he can’t do a thing other than continue to go to classes he’s too smart for and talk to people he borderline hates.

But then there’s you- and you’re a big fat question mark in Shinso’s life. You’re quiet and reserved, much like him, but there’s a light in your eyes that his own lack. This is General Studies, so he doesn’t even know your quirk- but he’s sure that you know his. Everyone does.

Everyone hates him. He’s sure that you do, too. So he pays you no mind and goes on with his day, each one just as boring as the last- at least that’s what he tries to do.

You take the first initiative- you actually talk to him. He’s vaguely aware that a group project has been assigned in the class, but he usually doesn’t pay it any mind since no one ever dares to pair up with him. But you hold out your hand and introduce yourself in such a normal way that he can’t help but look at you strangely.

“What?” He asks you, purposefully. It’s practically a challenge. Would you answer him, take the chance of him hijacking your head? Or would you run away like everyone else?

You don’t even stutter or hesitate. “I said I’d like to be your partner. I think we’d do a good job.” Your hand goes back to your side once you realize he isn’t going to shake it. “Will you be my partner?”

Of course he doesn’t use his quirk on you- he never does. Shinso continues to stare at you as if you’re going to change your mind at any second and turn around. You don’t- so he does the only thing he can do in a situation like this.

“Alright.”

He agrees.

---

“Why’d you talk to me?” Shinso asks one day during your study session together for the project. The two of you sat quietly in the library, a board on the table you shared that you taped pretty blue paper on.

“I needed a partner,” you don’t even spare him a glance. “And I was sick of you looking like that.”

He doesn’t even know what you mean but he frowns, offended. “Like what?”

“Like you’d rather die than spend another second in that classroom,” you purse your lips as you look at your handiwork, leaning back with a concentrated hum. You stick out your hand and wiggle your fingers- subconsciously he hands you the stickers. “You always look like that. I can take a good guess as to why, so I thought I’d do the least I could do and not leave you alone.”

“So you asked me out of pity?”

“Pretty much, yeah. What do you think?” You finally look at him, pointing at the board. Shinso squints at you, looking absolutely disgusted.

“It looks like a second-grader put it together.”

“Fuck you, man!” You immediately shout at him, not even considering the fact that you’re both in a library.

Shinso finds that he loves your blunt and carefree personality. No one has ever told him to fuck off in a library before- and he finds that he likes the way it makes him snort and laugh right in your face.

---

Together, you earn the first non-perfect score Shinso has ever made since entering U.A. He should be upset, but he’s not. Especially since you continue to talk to him even after the assignment is done.

He likes that you stick around, that you never hesitate to answer his questions, and that you never let him off the hook. You’re always calling him out- it’s small things like forgetting to bring a lunch and letting his hair grease up from not taking a shower- small things that show you care about him at least a little bit.

You care about him enough to nag, so inevitably, Shinso finds himself caring about you, too.

---

The two of you hang out in your dorm when classes aren’t scheduled. You tried hanging out in Shinso’s once, but it was so ‘boring’ to you that you just went to yours instead- Shinso really didn’t care either way. Most of the time you play games on your TV as Shinso read some of your comics. It was a nice, relaxing downtime that he never had before, so even though you both don’t talk he thinks that’s okay.

You’re playing another dumb otome game today, something Shinso never fails to roll his eyes at you for as he pretends to throw up. You promptly tell him to go fuck himself as you keep dating the flashy, dramatic anime men on screen.

“Who’s your favorite?” He finally finds it in himself to ask. There’s a reason you like these games, right?

“Haru, hands down. I would gladly ride him and he would thank me afterward because he’s fucking gentlemanly like that.”

“You’re disgusting,” Shinso grows a look of disgust and sits himself down next to you, looking at the screen with a scowl. “Is that him?”

“No, this is Maru. He’s okay, I guess. I’m just trying to get achievements.”

“...Do they all have the same name like that?”

“...Yeah.”

“Wow.”

“Look, this is a judgment-free zone, okay!” You flush in embarrassment and Shinso grins- a Cheshire cat sort of grin. “This is Haru.”

The first thing he notices is Haru’s wavy, purple hair. His eyes widen and he can’t help but ask, “really?”

“No, I’m absolutely fucking with you. This one is Taru.”

He doesn’t hesitate to grab the pillow beside him and smack you upside the head with it as you cackle loudly at him. This time, he’s the one who’s red in the face, but he supposes he deserves it.

---

It’s another off day, and Shinso should be heading to your room any minute now, but he doesn’t.

He’s fresh from the shower, his hair still wet and dripping as he stands in the middle of his room. An odd, strange, and intense feeling drapes over him like a thick blanket and suddenly Shinso doesn’t want to go anywhere. He doesn’t want to get dressed, doesn’t want to eat and he sure as hell doesn’t want to go and see you.

Some part of Shinso really believed that this hard part was over, but things weren’t ever that easy. He doesn’t even register falling down on his bed and crawling under the covers, his body does it on its own, gladly embracing the empty feeling that came rushing back in tidal waves.

He doesn’t see you that day- and you don’t come knocking on his door to see if anything’s wrong. You don’t say anything at all and somehow that makes the awful ache in his chest so much tighter.

---

Depression is like that- acting like it’s not there never fixes it. The next day, Shinso slowly gets out of bed. He doesn’t eat and he’s late to class, but at least he’s there so that counts in his book. You’re there, watching him as he makes his way to the seat and slumps against it- he ignores you completely.

When the first two classes end and it’s lunch period, you make your way to his desk and gently ask him what’s wrong. It irks Shinso for a reason he can’t quite place. Nonetheless, he assures you that he’s fine.

Why should you care?

Maybe you don’t. Maybe that’s why you walk away from him, leaving him alone in the empty classroom. Shinso’s fists tighten on his desk, nails biting into his palms in crescent shapes, and his jaw clenches.

Of course you don’t care.

---

“Hey.”

Shinso’s body doesn’t move and he doesn’t look up, but he can tell that it’s you standing next to him again. A loaf of bread and a bowl of stew is placed on his desk.

“Have you eaten at all today?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Are you okay?”

Silence.

“...Why are you doing this?” He hears you sigh and then you sit on the desk next to him, leaning your elbows on your knees as you try to look at him. “Why aren’t you talking to me?”

“Why do you care?” Shinso’s eyes burn holes into the bread on his desk. It’s going to leave crumbs and grease.

“Because we’re friends, and I care about my friends. You know that we’re friends, right?”

Don’t do this. Don’t ruin this.

It’s a small voice in his head- he supposes it’s his conscience.

“I know,” he barely whispers. “I just don’t want to talk.”

“...Okay,” you nod and lean back, crossing your legs. “I won’t talk. Eat your food, though. You’ll feel a bit better.”

Shinso does it- and he hates that you’re right. The funk in his head isn’t fully gone, but the rest of the day flows easier thanks to the energy the food gave him.

He’ll have to thank you later.

---

“I’m sorry.”

It takes a few days, but eventually, Shinso comes knocking on your door with the best apology he can manage.

It’s totally lame, but he means it.

“It’s okay,” you let him in your room and close the door behind you and he notices how your eyes look him up and down. “I’m glad you’re doing better.”

“I’m glad I’ve passed your cleanliness test,” he shrugs. He did try to put on some clean clothes before he saw you- though he was tempted to stay in the dirty ones just so he could hear you nag. “...It’s just a funk. Comes every so often. I’m not… used to having friends.” It’s the best explanation he can offer.

“I’m not, either, you know,” You smile at him gently. It makes his stomach flutter, and it’s kind of sickening, but Shinso supposes it’s a better feeling then what he was experiencing before. “I know it’s difficult… But I’m here for you.”

Shinso smiles, too. Because- deep down, despite the depression that skews his view on the world every so often- he knows that you’re telling the truth.

“...Do you wanna play games?”

“Hell yeah.”

---

About a week after that, you do something completely unexpected.

You confess.

“You know… I was lying before.” There’s a noticeable red tint to your cheeks as you look up at the ceiling, directly away from Shinso. “That boy in the game before was actually Haru.”

“...The purple haired one?”

“Yeah.”

His eyebrows furrow together.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I was embarrassed!” You yell at him, and he thinks yeah, obviously. “Because I play dumb otome games and it’s weird. And I totally crushed on Haru because he looks like you.”

Oh.

“This is a really weird way of saying I like you.”

Oh.

“You play an otome game with a guy that looks like me because you like me?” He stares at you, and then he unwillingly snorts with a grin. “That’s so sad.”

“Shut the fuck up! I’m saying I like you, you fucking big-headed idiot, don’t change the subject!”

“Right,” Shinso hums. He’s relaxing against some pillows on your bed and he slowly sits up, his shoulders hunched as he stares at the blankets. “Why?”

“Why, what?” You give him an odd look.

“Why would you…” He huffs through his nose. “Why would you like someone like me, anyway?”

He feels like a dumb teenage girl in some dumb American movie, twiddling his thumbs on your bed as he wallows in self-doubt and waits for your answer. Shinso isn’t a guy who fishes around for compliments- he just genuinely doesn’t get it.

Why would you want someone like him?

“Why shouldn’t I?”

Your answer makes him snap his eyes in your direction, wondering if you’re serious. You look like it, and you scoot closer as you take his hand. “I know you don’t think so, but there’s nothing wrong or undesirable about you. You’re a good friend, you make me laugh and you make me happy… And I don’t really control my feelings, you know. It wasn’t my choice to think about kissing a loser like you.”

His face flushes even darker. “You think about kissing me?”

“I dunno,” you shrug, even though you literally just said it. “Do you?”

Hmm. Shinso swallows, his throat feeling awfully dry and he looks down at your hand that’s clasped around his own. He shifts around uncomfortably under your stare. “I dunno,” he mimics you. “Maybe.”

Fuck yeah, he’s thought about it, but he’s not going to directly tell you that. You’d gloat about it for days, he knows you are because you’re just like him and he already knows he’s going to gloat about the fact that you said it.

“Then, can I kiss you?”

His lips twitch. “Maybe.”

“That’s- that’s not. Dude. I need an answer, here.”

His lips twitch again, forming a grin and he laughs- a flustered small laugh that makes him feel pathetic and embarrassed. “Yeah.”

When your lips meet his, those self-deprecating thoughts melt away. It’s only a second, it’s just a peck- but Shinso licks his lips and finds himself wanting more. “Are you sure?” The boy can’t help but ask- at least he’s looking in your eyes this time. Your beautiful eyes that still have that shine when he first saw you.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” and then you kiss him again.

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canarygirl1017 · 4 years

Text

Hands On Me - Chapter 2

Pairing: Reader / Jungkook

Genre: College!au, fluff, mild angst, smut

Length: 5, 024k words

Warnings: language, explicit sex, protected sex

Summary: You’d never had much luck with relationships, and experience had taught you to shy away from physical intimacy. But when you started dating your neighbor, Jungkook, you began to think he was worth the risk. College AU.

Read Chapter 1

Chapter 2

You were drifting between sleep and wakefulness when your phone started buzzing on your nightstand. You groaned as you reached for it, bleary eyes noting the time – nearly noon – and a missed call from Jungkook. You bit your lip before putting the phone down and burying your face in the pillow. Another buzz signaled a message.

Jungkook: Are you awake? How are you feeling?

You didn’t think you were up to seeing him so soon after you’d literally thrown yourself at him, only to be summarily rejected. Damn Jen for giving you the idea, and damn the tequila for giving you the liquid courage to act way outside your comfort zone. You could see the red dress on the floor near your closet where you’d dropped it, a sad reminder of your failed seduction attempt. You’d toss it out, but it was designer and Jen had spent several hours making it fit you perfectly. Your frugal soul wouldn’t support that kind of waste, though you couldn’t imagine where you’d ever wear it again.

You expected to feel hung over since you drank more than your usual amount last night. You guessed you felt okay because Jungkook had taken care of you after he arrived, making sure you drank water and ate something. He’d been so sweet and perfect right up until he walked out, leaving you embarrassed and sexually frustrated.

Your phone buzzed again, but you pulled the pillow over your head. He’d have to go to work soon, and you needed some time to pull yourself together before seeing him. You were close to drifting off again when you heard your front door opening. You raised your head in alarm before remembering that Jungkook had your key.

“Y/n?”

You closed your eyes again as you heard him opening your bedroom door.

He sat on the edge of your bed and ran a gentle hand across your hair. “Hey, baby, wake up. Are you feeling okay?”

You made an indistinct murmuring sound without opening your eyes.

“Are you sick? If you’re sick, I can call the gym and tell them I won’t be in today.”

Your eyes popped open. You sat up and shook your head. “No, don’t do that. I’m just tired because I don’t usually stay out late drinking.” You peeked up at him, noting that he still looked concerned. “I’m okay, really.”

“I brought you some breakfast. Why don’t you get up and eat something before I go?”

You nodded. “I just need a few minutes.”

“Okay.”

In the bathroom, you washed your face and brushed your teeth. You still felt embarrassed about last night but more than that, you wondered what it meant. Did he not want you that way anymore? The way he was in the club, you thought he did. Even when he was kissing you on your bed, you thought he did. The sudden pivot from passion to….indifference? That wasn’t exactly it, but it was confusing.

You took a deep breath, threw on your bathrobe hanging on the door hook, and walked out to see him plating your favorite breakfast sandwich with some fruit. You slid onto the stool at the bar that separated your tiny kitchen area from your equally small living room and accepted the large cinnamon vanilla latte he handed you as he pushed the plate in front of you.

When he slid onto the stool next to you with just a coffee, you asked, “You aren’t hungry?”

“I already ate. I have my first client in forty-five minutes.”

You nodded, knowing he never ate large meals right before workout sessions. You began eating your sandwich, mostly to keep your hands busy rather than because you felt really hungry.

“I’ll be working pretty late, but I can stop by after work if you’re still up,” he said. “What are you doing today?”

“Just studying,” you answered. “I’m covering two extra shifts at the library this week, so I need to get ahead in my reading.”

“You can come by the gym later if you feel like it,” he suggested. “Stretching and getting the blood flowing can help with a hangover.”

Since you’d started dating, you often used his guest passes to work out with him. You weren’t exactly fitness girl, so he kept it light, never pushing you to do too much. It was usually flirty and fun, but today you had a feeling it would only be awkward. You gave a noncommittal shrug as you speared a piece of melon. Even without looking over at him, you could feel that he was watching you.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked again.

You nodded again and took a long drink of the coffee. “I might sleep a little more after I finish eating.”

“Okay.” He leaned over and kissed the side of your head before standing up. “I’ll call you later.”

After he left, you went back to bed and pulled the covers up over your head. You weren’t usually a wallow-in-misery type, but you were giving yourself a pass today.

_________________

Jungkook stared at his phone, wondering if he was imagining that you were borderline leaving him on read this week. Between him working late at the gym and your extra library shifts, he’d only seen you once in the last few days, which was unusual.

“What’s with that face?” Jimin asked as he sat down on the locker room bench next to him.

“Huh?”

“You look worried about something.”

Jungkook hesitated before shrugging. “It’s probably nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing. You keep staring at your phone lately like it’s a puzzle you can’t solve.”

He ran a hand over his hair and sighed. “Things have been a little weird between me and y/n this week.”

Jimin’s brows rose. “You seemed fine on Saturday. Weird how?”

“Weird like… she’s taking forever to answer my messages. I’ll start thinking she’s left me on read and then she’ll finally answer, but it’s like short answers. And I haven’t even seen her in three days, which is the longest we’ve ever gone without seeing each other since we started dating.” Once he started talking, it all came pouring out, and he really didn’t think he was imagining it anymore.

“Huh.” Jimin was quiet for a minute. “Didn’t you say this was a busy week for both of you though? You’re working late and she took on extra library shifts, right? I don’t know man, it sounds like you might be reaching.”

“I’m not reaching,” Jungkook said, irritated. “I know how things usually are, and how they are this week? It’s not the same. Even when we get busy, we talk, you know? And she’ll stay up to see me when I get home even if it’s just for a few minutes.”

Jimin raised his hands. “Okay, chill. Admittedly I may not be the best person to talk to about this because I haven’t dated anyone seriously. Did anything happen after you left the party on Saturday?”

“No.”

“What about this week?”

“I’ve barely seen her or talked to her, so no.” Jungkook had been over their every interaction more than once in his head. “The only thing I can think of is that it seemed like something was bothering her before the party. She’d zone out sometimes, but I didn’t feel comfortable pushing her to talk about it before she was ready, whatever it is.”

“Well, it sounds like you need to talk to her. I really never thought I’d see the day when you were this whipped over a girl,” he said, ducking the towel Jungkook threw at him. “You’re not working late tomorrow, right? Why don’t you surprise her at the library, walk her home, and cook her dinner or something? That’s how you did it in the beginning and it worked.”

Jungkook thought about it as he prepared for his next client. Tomorrow was Friday, and he was finishing earlier than usual. He could drop by the market on the way to the library, pick you up and cook dinner. It was what he’d done the first night he kissed you, and it had made you really happy. Maybe you were just feeling neglected?

Whatever it was, Jimin was right. It was past time that you talked about it.

__________________

You looked up as Jen joined you at the corner table. You had a standing Friday lunch date at the café near the library before you went to work. You always used the time to catch each other up on the week, but you were surprised when Jen jumped straight in.

“So why are you torturing Jungkook?” she asked as she took a sip of her coffee.

“What?” you looked up in surprise.

“Jimin says you’re torturing the poor boy, leaving him on read this week,” she replied with a raised brow.

You flushed. “I’m not leaving him on read.” When Jen crossed her arms and stared at you, you added, “I’m not! Maybe I’m not answering as fast as usual, but we’ve both been busy.” You hadn’t realized it was something that he’d notice, which made you feel guilty.

“Babe, I love you, but if you’re even kind of leaving him on read, enough for him to notice, then something is obviously wrong. Did you two not do the deed on Saturday? Because the way you were dancing, I was sure you would.”

Setting your sandwich down, you nibbled your bottom lip. “He took me home but then he left.”

“Okay. Did you actually ask him to stay?”

“Yes. We were on the bed and I thought he was going to stay, but then he said it wasn’t a good night or something,” you replied quietly. “It was embarrassing. And so, I just… needed some space this week.”

“Are you trying to push him to break up or argue with you or something? Because if he’s upset enough to talk to Jimin about it before talking to you, it’s not a good sign.” Jen sighed and leaned forward, folding her arms on the table. “Look, I’m going to say something, and I want you to really think about it and then do the adult thing and go talk to him, alright?”

You nodded.

“I get that you’ve been bruised in the past by some of the guys you’ve dated. And I say bruised because I don’t really think any of them broke your heart, y/n. Nothing you’ve said about that idiot from high school, or about any other guy, makes me think you really loved any of them. The problem is, you locked up your heart in such an awkward way that you don’t seem to realize Jungkook is already holding the key. After Saturday, I think it’s obvious you two love each other whether you want to admit it or not.”

You stared down at your coffee mug. “We’ve only been dating for a few months. We haven’t gotten that far.”

“Maybe not with words, but the feelings are there. It’s not just me – Jimin sees it too, you know.”

“Since when do you talk to Jimin so much?” you asked. “Are you two dating now?”

“We’re texting, and we’re going to hang out this weekend. And don’t try to change the subject. How do you feel about Jungkook? Even if you aren’t ready to say it out loud, you really need to be honest with yourself and talk to him about what’s going on this week because it sounds like he’s upset about it.”

The fact that he was talking to Jimin about it was adding to your paranoia about talking to him. You’d half convinced yourself that this was mostly in your own head, but now that he was also upset, you felt nervous about seeing him again.

You tried to push it out of your mind while you were working at the library. Your co-worker, Namjoon, helped you relax a little as he told you about his research study on elder relations in retirement homes. It was a shocking revelation to learn their dating life was far more active than the average college student, and his recounting of the spicy grandmas who read smut excerpts to each other in their book club made you laugh.

__________________________

Jungkook shifted his bags to one hand as he opened the door to the library and looked around for you. He finally spotted you at the desk scanning in books with your co-worker. He couldn’t remember his name. Joon? Whatever it was, you seemed to be having fun talking to him, laughing at whatever he was telling you.

He’d noticed the guy flirting with you before, but it had never really bothered him until today. And he didn’t think it was his imagination that when you looked up and saw him, you weren’t quite as happy to see him as he’d hoped.

“Hey,” you said as he walked up. “I didn’t know you were getting off early tonight.”

“I wanted to surprise you,” he replied, eyes shifting to the guy standing next to you. “I picked up groceries – I thought I’d cook for us tonight.”

“Okay. Just give me a few minutes to finish scanning these books in, and I’ll meet you out front.”

Jungkook was quiet as you walked home, and you weren’t saying much either. This wasn’t how he’d imagined the night at all, and he was completely bewildered as to how you’d gotten to this point. When you unlocked your apartment, he followed you in and went straight to the kitchen. He began unloading the bags, putting things away and gathering the ingredients he needed to make the pasta dish he’d decided on.

“Can I help?” you asked.

You usually cooked together, but he really needed the time to organize his thoughts. “I’ve got it. You can open the wine if you want.”

______________________

You poured the wine and set two places on the coffee table in the living room where you usually ate dinner together since you didn’t have a real table. You took one glass of wine to Jungkook in the kitchen, put a favorite record on, and then went to the bathroom to wash up.

You stared at your flushed cheeks in the mirror and then splashed some water on your face. Jungkook was one of the most even-tempered people you’d ever met, but he was really upset tonight. Even from the bathroom, you could hear him closing the cabinets more firmly than he usually did, and he’d barely said two words to you since you got home.

Was this about you not answering his messages fast enough? That didn’t seem right, but you’d never seen him act like this before, so you didn’t know.

Did he want to break up? Did guys cook a girl dinner before breaking up with them? That didn’t seem right either, but you remembered a girl from your English class who’d been crying one day because her boyfriend broke up with her at her favorite restaurant on Valentine’s Day.

Maybe you should just be direct, like Jen said. You could just ask him why he didn’t stay on Saturday, and why he was upset.

Filled with new resolve, you squared your shoulders and went to the kitchen. It looked like he was almost finished. He’d turned off the gas and was adding grated parmesan to the chicken fettucine his mother had taught him to make – a favorite of yours.

Just ask him, you told yourself.

“Do you want to break up?”

That wasn’t what you’d meant to say at all, but somehow the words just flew out.

Jungkook turned and stared at you, mouth open. “What?”

“I just… that wasn’t what I meant to say,” you said, looking down at your hands.

“Is that what you want?” he finally asked.

You felt tongue tied now. “No. It’s just, Jen said Jimin said that you’re mad, and I can see you’re mad, and I don’t know. I really just wanted to know why you didn’t stay with me on Saturday night, but I don’t…”

“Whoa,” Jungkook said, holding up his hands.

He walked over and pulled you to him, wrapping his arms tightly around you. You leaned into his chest and breathed deeply. He always smelled good, and it was calming now, even with his heart pounding beneath your ear. “Your heart’s beating really fast.”

“Yeah because you just scared the shit out of me,” he muttered. “I thought you really wanted to break up for a minute.”

You stood like that for a few minutes before Jungkook pulled back. “I think we need to talk, y/n. I feel like we’ve had some kind of major misunderstanding, and I have no idea where it started.”

“I don’t want your pasta to go to waste,” you said. “Let’s talk while we eat.” You weren’t hungry earlier but now that you felt like things were going to be okay between you and Jungkook, you felt your stomach gurgle.

He divided the pasta carefully between your plates and carried them over to the coffee table along with his wine. You twirled some on your fork and took a bite, moaning your appreciation, which you knew always made him smile.

“What did you mean about Saturday night?” he finally asked after you’d both eaten a few bites.

You tried not to blush as you answered him. You set your fork down and took a sip of wine. “I wore that dress for you. I thought you liked it.”

“I loved that dress. It surprised me a little, but you looked beautiful.”

“Then why didn’t you stay when I asked you to? Because that’s why I wore it. I wanted us to sleep together.” You could feel your cheeks burning now – so much for not blushing your way through this conversation.

Jungkook was staring at you, mouth open again. “That’s what this week was about? You thought I left because I didn’t want to sleep with you?”

“I mean, I thought you did, but I don’t know. I felt weird about it when I woke up on Sunday,” you admitted.

“You were drunk on Saturday,” he finally said. “It wasn’t that long ago that you got completely freaked out when we were kissing on my sofa, y/n. Do you really think I’d take advantage of you when you’re drunk? It’s not like I didn’t want to because believe me, I really wanted to. But what if you woke up the next day and regretted it? It wasn’t worth the risk.”

It had never, not even once, occurred to you that he might have left because you’d been drinking that night. “I was mostly sober by the time we got back here.”

“Yeah well, mostly sober isn’t where I wanted your head to be the first time we sleep together,” he said with a sigh. “I wish you’d talked to me about it instead of freezing me out this week.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, reaching for his hand. “I really didn’t mean to. I was just caught up in my own head and didn’t even think you’d notice if I wasn’t answering messages right away. I was overthinking.”

“Well, you didn’t look that happy to see me earlier, either. I didn’t know what to think at that point.” He raised your hand to his lips and kissed your palm. “Let’s finish eating before it gets cold.”

After you washed the dishes, you lit one of your candles, put on a record you knew Jungkook liked, and then snuggled into him on the sofa.

“Why did you run out of my apartment that time?” he asked. “I was afraid it was me, that I scared you or something.”

“It just seemed fast, I guess. I haven’t been with anyone since my high school boyfriend,” you said. “That wasn’t the greatest experience, and he broke up with me pretty soon after that. Jen said it bruised me, and I guess it did. It made me think if I sleep with a guy too fast, he won’t respect me and if I don’t, he’ll break up with me anyway, like Mike.”

“Mike was a fucking asshole,” he said bluntly.

“I mean, he wasn’t always like that night. We had fun when we first started dating. It’s just that the more he pushed for sex, the more I backed off and then he got mad about it.”

“He was still an asshole. Drunk or not, any guy who treats a girl like he did that night isn’t worth defending.”

“True,” you admitted. You looked up at him. “You really thought you scared me that night?”

“Yeah, I did,” he said. “I didn’t mind going slow, so I tried to back off and let you set the pace after that. I didn’t realize you thought that meant I didn’t want you.”

“Jen was right,” you said ruefully. “I should have talked to you about this a long time ago.”

“I kind of understand why you didn’t. But seriously, guys don’t spend all their free time with girls they don’t want.” He reached up and ran his hand through your hair gently. “I haven’t felt this way about anyone in a really long time, and that’s why I got upset this week.”

You leaned up and kissed him, gently at first. When his hands grasped your hips, you took the initiative and climbed into his lap.

“Please never ask me if I want to break up again,” he said between kisses. “The answer is no.”

“What if I ask you if you want to stay tonight?” You leaned back and looked at him shyly, playing with the hem of his shirt. You knew he kept toiletries and extra clothes in his gym bag, which he’d left sitting by your door.

“Are you sure?’ he asked, his voice soft. When you nodded, he kissed you again. “Then yes, I want to stay.”

You were filled with nervous energy as you got ready for bed. You wished you had some kind of lingerie you could put on, but you didn’t. So, you put on the soft jersey shorts and t-shirt set that Jen had given you because it was blue, and Jungkook had once said he liked that color on you.

In your bedroom, you turned off the overhead lights and only turned on one bedside lamp. You could hear Jungkook moving around in the living room, turning off the record player, and then he went into the bathroom. You turned down the blankets, glad that you’d changed the sheets the day before.

When he came into the bedroom, he was wearing only boxer briefs and a black t-shirt, and you felt your pulse spiking up with anticipation. Until that moment, you didn’t realize just how much you’d wanted this. You leaned back against the pillows as he slid over to you.

“God, you’re pretty,” he said as he kissed your cheek and buried his face in your neck. “I missed you this week.”

You wrapped your arms around him and hugged him to you. “I missed you too.” You closed your eyes as he began placing soft kisses up and down your neck that immediately made you feel restless. You shivered when he sucked at the skin over your collarbone before moving back up to run his tongue over your pulse point.

The heat building between your legs was a distraction, but he resisted when you tried to pull him over you.

“I want you to relax and just let me make you feel good, baby.” He kissed your nose and cheek. “I don’t want to rush this.”

It was soon apparent that was code for driving you completely crazy. He explored every inch of your neck and shoulders, finding every sensitive spot that made you moan before moving on to your breasts. You were shameless now, pushing up against his palms.

“See how well you fit my hands?” he whispered right before he ran his tongue over first one nipple and then the other. You squeezed your thighs together in search of some relief when every tug of his mouth made you throb with need.

He finally slipped one hand beneath the band of your shorts, and your legs fell apart eagerly. You were embarrassingly wet, which he seemed to like.

“So wet,” he whispered against your breast. His finger rubbed over your most sensitive spot, making you jerk at the sensation.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, your thighs clamping against his hand. You’d never felt anything like this – not even when you’d masturbated.

Jungkook removed his hand from your shorts and sat up, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. You ran a hand over his abs when he kissed you and then brushed your fingers over the bulge in his briefs. He groaned against your mouth, leaning his forehead against yours for a moment. Then he sat back and reached for the band of your shorts. You nodded at his questioning look, raising your hips to let him slide them down and off, tossed aside to join his shirt somewhere on the floor.

Then he was kissing his way down your stomach. The first sweep of his tongue against your most sensitive flesh nearly had you jerking off the bed, so he held your hips down as he made you come the first time. He laid his head against your hip as you came down; eventually he rubbed between your legs and one finger slid into you. A second soon joined the first, and then his mouth closed over your sensitive bud. Your second orgasm rushed over you in waves so strong you were gasping for air and moaning so loudly that you were certain the neighbors above, below and next to you must be able to hear you.

Jungkook finally gave you some relief, moving back up to place kisses against your stomach and then your breasts. “That’s my new favorite sound.”

Once you felt like you could breathe again, you reached for his briefs. He helped you push them down before kicking them off. Head against his chest, you reached for the hard length resting against his stomach. He guided you, helping you learn the way he liked being touched, and his low groans made you want to do something else you’d never done before.

But when you leaned down and pressed your lips against the head of his cock, he jerked back. “Baby, I won’t last five seconds if you do that right now.” He sat up and reached for one of the foil packets he’d left on your nightstand.

You lay back against the pillows again, reaching for him eagerly when he crawled over you and settled between your legs. Again, he was in no hurry, spending several minutes just kissing you and rubbing his length against you in a slow, deliberate way that was winding you up again.

When he finally pushed against your tight entrance, you were more than ready. You’d thought it might hurt since you hadn’t been with anyone in so long, and you well remembered the discomfort of that first time, but there was no pain at all. You only felt a sense of fullness as he pushed deep, retreated, and pushed again.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked, gritting his teeth as he slowly pushed in again.

“Not at all,” you answered. You tilted your hips and drew your knees up; you both moaned when that seated him even deeper inside you.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he said. He paused to kiss you again, tongue sliding against yours. “So good, baby.”

Soon you found a rhythm that had you climbing that peak for the third time, and you held onto him tightly as you came again. Dimly you felt him speed up, thrusting hard against you for another minute before he groaned loudly against the side of your neck, rocking through his orgasm.

Neither of you moved for long minutes. Then Jungkook wrapped his arms around you and squeezed you to him as he kissed your neck. “Am I too heavy?”

“No, I like this. It feels good.” You ran your fingers through his sweaty hair, dragging your nails against his scalp in the way you knew he liked, smiling when he made a humming, contented sound.

He finally moved away in order to take care of the condom, and then you made a quick trip to the bathroom to clean up before joining him in bed again. You quickly learned that Jungkook did not want space when he slept; rather, he was a major fan of snuggling. He was wrapped around you so tightly that you wondered if you’d be able to sleep like that, but you didn’t want him to let go either.

His next words were a shock.

“I love you,” he said quietly as you drew patterns against his chest.

You stilled, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“I’ve been thinking about saying it for a few weeks,” he continued. “And I wanted to say it earlier, but I didn’t want you to think it was something a guy just says during sex. I know we’ve only been together for a few months, so I don’t want you to feel pressured – like you have to say it back right now. But I wanted you to know.”

“I’ve never felt like this before,” you finally said, pressing a kiss to his chest, another against the mole on the side of his neck, and then against his lips. “I think that’s why I’ve been so worried about us – because I love you too.”

His grin lit up his whole face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Several kisses later, Jungkook said, “I don’t want to rush you, but your lease is up in a few months. Keeping in mind we’re broke college students, we could save money by living together. Plus, you know, I love you, so there’s that reason too.”

You giggled and then slid on top of him, encouraged to feel him stir against your thigh. “One step at a time.”

A/N - And done! I hope you enjoyed it. I’ll be working on Ghosted next.

#jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts imagines #college au #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst

184 notes · View notes

novantinuum · 4 years

Link

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: Teen Audiences (I have upped the rating in consideration of sensitive topics I aim to depict later on.)

Words: 6.4K~

Summary: In another world, he doesn’t have his mother’s sword or shield to hide behind when Bismuth lands her strike. The bubble pops.

Steven falls apart.

Chapter summary: In which history is written on the walls.

Some of my other fics have been showing up in the tags when I use the link post option, so I’m doing an experiment this time. Fingers crossed it shows! If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3. Thank you! <3

____

Chapter 12: Beta, Part 3

Having long since heeded Ruby’s advice to take a mental break, Steven sits criss-cross with his back pressed against the hodgepodge aquarium. If you ask him, this position is a two-in-one miracle, allowing him both an unobstructed view of the doorway, and sparing him from the deep rooted horror of the creepy dismantled plush still floating an aimless arc through the tank. He loves Peridot to death, but good golly, this latest meep morp is deeply unsettling. He shudders at the mere thought of its water-logged stuffing oozing out from the seams, and then— inhaling deep through his nose— steers his focus back to the phone clasped tightly between his fidgety fingers.

Back to the story, you doofus.

With nothing better to do for the moment and a hyperactive mind to satiate, he’s finally started to read the Unfamiliar Familiar fanfic that Connie sent him a link to a few days before. True to her words, it’s super, super good. Well written, great characterization, and best of all, the author keeps throwing in hints of future romance between Lisa and Archimicarus! Considering that, he’s almost surprised Connie likes this fic so much. She’s normally not much of a shipper. To be fair though, romance definitely isn’t the point of the story. Instead, it’s an AU focused on the mystery of the main character’s origins.

He can’t help but let out a sympathetic sigh as— in chapter 5– Lisa tries to calmly explain to her fellow Stonehearth Coven members that somehow her father, the revered founder of the coven, used to be a prince of the wicked Arcane Court. Most of her once-close friends don’t swallow the news well. As a result, Lisa is left alone to seek the truth of her father’s past, with no allies except her trusted familiar at her side. Lip quivering, he presses his thumb solid against his phone’s screen for a while, as if yearning to reach a healing hand beyond the barrier between fiction and reality and let the young witch know she’s not alone, that he sees and supports her. He makes a mental note to thank Connie profusely for sending along this really good fic, and presses on to the next chapter.

He’s halfway to the end of it when Peridot returns.

For someone who appeared super frazzled by Lapis’s terror-struck outbursts the last time she stood at his side, she sure seems fit as a fiddle now, walking with a slight bounce in her step as she crosses past the fence line and onto the property. At least, he assumes she is. He can’t help but immediately doubt this assessment when she spots him sitting against the inner wall of the barn with that piercing focus of hers and bounds through the doorway like a Gem fleeing the apocalypse.

“Steven, Steven, Steven, Steven!” she cries as she runs to his side, flapping her arms urgently.

Practically tossing his phone to the ground to free his hands for combat, he leaps to his feet so fast that his head grows woozy. His rose-thorned shield shimmers into tangible existence in front of his barred fist.

“What, what is it?” he exclaims, the pounding of his heart devolving into an untamable cacophony as all his darkest fears rear their ugly heads at once. “Is- is it Lapis? Did she leave anyways?”

“Uh, no…?”

“Or, or, or- are we under attack?!”

“Steven, I—“

“Who’s here for me this time?” he blurts, grabbing his friend’s shoulders. “Is it Homeworld? Jasper? The Diamonds? Tell meeee!” he whines, roughly shaking her.

“I- No one? It’s no one!” Peridot exclaims when her head finally stops jostling back and forth under his force, waves of confusion coloring her expression. “I’m… just happy to be back?”

His cheeks burn red as he drinks in her obvious statement and eventually catches his breath. He lets go of her. “O-oh,” he stammers, willing the shield floating before him to disappear into glimmers of light and desperately wishing he could do the same at this precise moment of existence. “Okay. Glad to see you back! Did, uh… did you find Lapis?”

She nods in confirmation, but visibly deflates a little at the reminder of her roommate. “Yeah, she’s perched in a tree in the woods. She said she wanted some ‘alone time,’” she emphasizes with air quotes.

Steven clasps his fingers together in front of him as he lets this news sink in, digits tussling without end for the most comfortable alignment. Bleeding heart that he is, he hates the idea of letting anyone be alone, especially after a revelation this jarring, but he must admit that he himself found some comfort in solitude the night his human half took for the beach, inert diamond in hand. If anything else, it was nice to retreat from all the noise, to allow himself the opportunity to form his own opinions about the situation. Perhaps it’ll be beneficial for her, too.

“That’s understandable,” he says, glancing out the barn door towards the forest his friend is taking refuge in. “She’s been through a lot.”

He squats to pick up his phone from the floorboards then, frowning as he notices a fresh crack on the glass at the corner of the screen. Knowing that— despite his desperate desires— there’s nothing he can do to fix this right now, he shoves it in his pocket and pushes against his knees to stand up. The bottom of his shirt catches on his arm as he does so, briefly exposing the unfamiliar facets of his rotated gem. Peridot’s brows nearly shoot above the upper rim of her visor.

“So,” she begins, nodding towards his stomach. “Your gem.”

With a tired sigh, he tugs his shirt back down. Boy, does he already know where this conversation is heading, and boy, is he sick of having to walk everyone through it. “Yup,” he replies, popping the ‘p’ and getting ready to deploy the exasperated eye roll.

“All this time everyone thought you were a hybrid quartz, but now you’re telling me…”

“...that I’m actually a dia—“

“...that I, Peridot, certified Kindergartener, a skilled specialist on every variety of Gem to ever exist, was wrong??”

“Hold on, what?”

She holds her hand over the diamond emblazoned on her chest as she passionately continues, wholly oblivious to Steven’s bemusement. “I was the brightest Gem of my cut back on Homeworld, and yet somehow I mistook a perfectly formed diamond for a quartz! Ah, hahahah!” Eyes glinting with what he can only describe as a borderline feral energy, she moves to clutch at the sides of her head, thick tufts of lemon yellow spilling out from between her fingers. “Oh, my stars. I’ve lost my touch!”

“Wait, who’s out of touch?” Ruby’s curious voice chimes from nearby. Overjoyed to see her again, Steven whirls to face her with a huge grin as she enters the barn and lounges against one of the support beams, propping a hand on her hip.

“I- it’s nothing important,” Peridot mutters, flushing as she smooths her hair back into place.

Immediately making note of the hint of shame dancing across her features, he nods. “Yeah, we were just chit-chatting! Hey, how’s Amethyst doing, though? You went to talk to her, right?”

Ruby huffs in frustration at the mention of the quartz Gem, grinding her boots against the floor so hard that for a second he’s genuinely concerned she might spark a fire under her very feet. “Tried to. But then she slashed her whip towards me and said I couldn’t help her, so ‘go away!’” she exclaims, throwing her arms in the air. “Can you believe it? I’m trying to provide some love and support, and she, she just- tells me to scram!”

“Aw, that’s not very nice,” he says with a frown, feeling his heart pulse in sympathy as she begins to pace back and forth across the wooden slats, grumbling under her breath.

“What’s her problem today, anyways?” Peridot asks, crossing her arms. “She’s usually much more amicable.”

Steven nibbles at the inside of his lip as he considers the concerning downward trajectory of Amethyst’s recent behavior. Sure, she can sometimes get snippy when she’s in a bad place, but this past week her outward attitude has built into a continuous problem. He himself has been on the receiving end of her acerbic words more than a few times, such as that afternoon they goaded each other into a duel at the Sky Arena, and that barbed retort she pierced him with at the fountain. Then there’s her fight with Pearl, her resulting emotional seclusion, today’s callous treatment of Peridot, Lapis, Ruby…

He desperately wishes he could pin all the blame for this on a single person, a single event, (because oh, wouldn’t that make his life so much easier), but when he tracks the evidence of her unrest it becomes blindingly clear that her problems began long before Rose’s betrayal was revealed.

“Well, beyond all the, uh… latest stuff, she’s been super insecure about Jasper,” he offers. Rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet with his flip flops rhythmically clapping against his heels, he rummages his brain for the easiest way to explain the root of the situation. “Basically, Jasper took Amethyst out in a fight a week ago, and ever since that she’s been training super hard a whole lot. I think she’s desperate for a rematch, to prove she’s good enough.”

“Wait, wait, wait—“ The green Gem holds her hands out, palms open. “You’re telling me she’s got an inferiority complex about Jasper? With where she came from?” She lets out a raucous peel of laughter, holding her sides. “Oh Amethyst! That’s ridiculous! She was made way better than that clod.”

He squints at her inquisitively, crossing his arms as he tries to make sense of the interesting new conversation thread that just flowed out of her mouth. “But what do you mean, where she came from? Isn’t she from Homeworld, like you?”

Ruby freezes in place upon hearing this question, clear worry threaded through her creased browline. Her mouth bobs open as if she’s gearing up to answer his question, but amidst her hesitation— a timidness that, the more he thinks about it, is bizarrely out of place from the bold, confident Gem Steven’s gotten to know from all the other times Garnet’s unfused— Peridot beats her to the charge.

“Pfft, are you kidding? She emerged right here from Earth, and not even from its good kindergarten!”

He slams his hands against his cheeks, internally reeling from this revelation. “There’s other kindergartens?”

“Well, sure! There was supposed to be one in every facet. Until the rebellion put a swift end to the Diamonds’ colonization efforts, that is,” she adds quickly, adjusting her visor. “There’s Amethyst’s Prime Kindergarten in Facet Five, but there’s also the Beta Kindergarten in Facet Nine. And that piece of work is where Jasper was made… poorly!” Giggling in excitement, she rapidly shuffles her feet beneath her. The glimmer of light reflected in her eyes is bright enough to rival a distant star. “You guys have to see it!”

Steven balls up his hand at his chin, deliberating. He has to admit, after the recent emotional upheaval that he now can’t help but associate with this place, he really likes the idea of spending time somewhere other than the barn.

“Huh. Might be worth asking if she wants to check it out,” he says with a shrug. “Ruby, you in?”

The Gem in question nibbles at the corner of her lip, humming low under her breath as she considers his offer. A small bead of sweat hangs above her brow. Sporting a good natured grin, he nudges her in the side with his elbow, hoping he can cheer her up a bit.

“A little more time with your favorite Steven and Peri? Eh? Come on, you know you wanna!”

“Do it, do it!” Peridot chimes in, pumping her fists up and down.

He eagerly joins in with her rallying cry, and in no time at all they’re both circling around their friend chanting those very words. Ruby stands center with her arms crossed and her back erect, desperately trying not to break her stoic facade with a smile. It’s ultimately futile, of course. After all, no one can resist the good ol’ Universe charm forever!

“All right, fine, fine, I’ll come,” she finally acquiesces, and with a smirk, plants both her hands on her hips. “After all, someone’s gotta keep an eye on all you trouble makers!”

Now that Ruby’s officially on board, the trio ventures outside to find Amethyst, Steven and Peridot giggling as they begin to skip around the perimeter of the barn side by side, arms linked together. Brushing a few flyaway curls out of his face amidst the comforting breeze, he glances over his shoulder when they reach the first corner to make sure they’re not leaving their friend in the dust. And thankfully she’s right on their tail, but he can’t help but notice her enthusiasm seems muted. He presses his lips together in concern. Does she not want to go with them? Is he only forcing her into this? His stomach twists with guilt as he ponders this quandary further. It’s not his intention to be pushy, but maybe— between coercing Amethyst to take a break and accompany him to the barn, begging Lapis to stay, and now, nudging Ruby to come to the Kindergarten— he’s only being selfish and manipulative about all this. He thought he was bringing people together, but what if he’s wrong? What if he’s only straining relationships, tainting the already tense atmosphere, making everything worse?

(What if this is the same sort of excuse his mom Rose used to make?)

With Amethyst slashing her whip at a few old rusted cans in the clearing before them, however, there’s no time to waste drowning within what-ifs. It’s like that day he learned about Garnet’s future vision for the first time: if he lets himself get tangled up in the possibilities he’ll never truly live. He sighs under his breath, lips pursed. Of course. Garnet’s right even when she isn’t here. As much as he’d love to go crazy psychoanalyzing the impact of every solitary step he makes, at this point he’s made his choices and whatever happens, happens. It’s time to live now.

Initially, the purple Gem is rather indignant at the idea that the three of them were gossiping about her behind her back— eyes clouded with hurt— but once Peridot explains that the point of their proposed Kindergarten field trip is to check out Jasper’s no-doubt lame hole, she blinks away her bitterness and seems to eagerly climb aboard.

“Sure, why not? ‘S not like there’s anything more fun than roasting your enemies.”

“I strongly agree,” Peridot says, nodding with pride.

But before the newly expanded Shorty Squad can begin their journey, there’s something Steven really needs to address. Something that’s been troubling him all day. Nervous butterflies filling his stomach, he leans up close to his sibling-in-crime and whispers so the others don’t hear:

“Amethyst, can I talk to you for a bit before we leave?”

Her expression curdles, but thankfully, unlike in Ruby’s unfortunate account, she doesn’t make a move towards her whip to push him away. Instead, she meets him with a gaze so hardened and difficult to read that his eyes can’t help but drift away, perhaps a little intimidated by the intensity of this contact.

“Yeah, I guess,” she mutters eventually. She flicks her wrist up at the other two, gesturing for them to get a move on. “Go on ahead. We’ll catch up.”

Ruby and Peridot nod, the red Gem with a good deal more sympathy drawn on her face, (but for him or Amethyst?), and promptly set off towards the warp pad. He continues to watch until they disappear beyond the curve of the grassy hillside, both conversing comfortably. The last he hears before the warp shoots its cyan stream of light into the sky is a hooting laugh from Ruby. Despite how non-ideal this visit has been so far, he can’t help the smile stretching across his cheeks, or how his chest grows all warm and fuzzy. It’s really nice to see Peridot getting along so well with the others now. She’s made such huge strides in the past few months.

Something metallic clangs behind him. Flinching, Steven whirls around. A crumpled, abused soda can lays overturned by the side of the barn. Amethyst— arms crossed tight just under her gem and her hair more spiked and untamed than usual— glares at that poor hunk of tin as if it’s solely to blame for all of this galaxy’s problems. She moves to lean against the barn’s outer wall and peers at him expectantly, like a troubled child expecting judgement from a parental figure.

“So. You wanted to talk,” she says, tone clipped.

“I… wanted to be honest,” he mutters, threading his fingers together as he grasps for how best to word this. “Amethyst… I know you’ve been going through some hard stuff lately. I know everything that’s happened in the past few days doesn’t help. But you’ve been so inconsiderate of like, everyone here.” He swings his arm in a wide gesture towards the barn. “Peridot and Lapis didn’t deserve the way you treated them earlier.”

No response.

Steven frowns, and— a glimmer of quiet frustration bubbling deep within him, the sort he’d never admit to out loud but can’t help but harbor whenever he catches wind of small injustices that he can never seem to fix— scratches an burgeoning itch at the nape of his neck. He… oh stars, he’s going about this completely wrong, isn’t he? He’s being too confrontational. Hmm. Maybe he should try a new angle. Time for take two.

“I know you only acted that way because you’re hurting and don’t wanna think about it,” he continues, “but please, you don’t have to box your emotions away like that. I wanna help. I wanna listen.”

Slowly, gently, he moves to place a hand on her shoulder. It feels like a small victory when she doesn’t shift upon his touch.

“Believe me, you’re not alone in feeling this way.”

Again, nothing. She’s not even looking at him right now, and her jaw’s locked. Even her form feels tense under his fingers, with hard light pulsing back and forth under her illusory skin at an alarmingly unusual pace.

He sighs, gaze dropping towards the ground, towards the battered can she kicked aside earlier. “I’m worried, y’know? But... I understand if you’re not ready to talk… about Jasper, and—“

“Oh, hoh! That’s rich!” she explodes suddenly, jerking her arm away. “You seriously wanna bury your head in the sand and pretend this is just about Jasper?”

He tiptoes away from her rush of anger, eyes growing puffy. “I—“

“You wanna know how I feel, Steven? About your mom, and the whole awful mess she made? Do you really? ‘Cause I don’t have a single CLUE what I should feel anymore!”

Amethyst pauses for breath amidst her tirade, briefly locking sight with him with a glimmer of hurt reflected in her violet irises, showing that deep underneath all those twisted layers of anger and resentment she’s just another scared, abandoned Gem like him.

“Rose was everything to me, okay?” she says, throwing her palms wide for emphasis. “And all this time, I thought she was the one Crystal Gem who could be real with me. The only one who wouldn’t sugarcoat things or treat me like a baby. ‘Oh, you’re perfect the way you are, Amethyst!’” she coos in a fake, silky-sweet voice, cupping her cheeks as she openly mocks the very Gem who gave her life so he could exist. “You’re such a strong little quartz, you mean so much to me!’ Hah!”

She pauses to force a bitter laugh, clenching her hands into insufferably tight fists.

“And wasn’t that just a huge load of silt,” she spits, staring off into the rosy distance as if it were but a cruel mirage, the pain more than evident in the taut features of her face. “All along I thought she was this great, faultless person, just like you did. Except she wasn’t. She’s a liar, like everyone else. I’m worthless, just like Jasper said… and Rose knew it.”

Hesitantly, compassionately— heart breaking for the internal struggle she’s caught within, a struggle he intimately relates to— he tries once more to reach out in comfort.

“Amethyst…”

She sniffles, wiping away the leaking fluid pooling at the corners of her eyes.

(She does not, however, brush him away this time when he wraps his arms around her torso and nestles his head against her chest.)

“Just— forget it, okay?” she says after a quiet moment’s embrace, gently stepping back from his affection. “It’s whatever. Come on, Peridot and Ruby are waiting for us. Let’s dump this joint.”

__________

Ruby quietly shuffles across the loose soil, directing her eyes as low to the ground as possible to avoid having to stare at the Beta Kindergarten’s steep cliff walls. Red sandstone, Peridot proclaims a few feet away to their newly arrived sightseers, whirling in place with her arms extended wide. We’re lucky this place hasn’t blown away. Beta, am I right?

Steven manages a soft laugh at this. Amethyst continues onward with her arms crossed, unimpressed. But Ruby herself? Well, she’s the only Gem here who can say she crossed this infamous swath of sedimentary rock at its very beginning, on the day of emergence. The others may choose to laugh about how soft and unideal the soaring sandstone cliffs are, or about the uneven exit holes and curved walls, but in her opinion it’s no laughing matter. She’s seen firsthand how deadly even a so-called ‘imperfect’ Homeworld soldier can be. Even Garnet barely escaped with her gems intact.

Nervously flexing her fingers at her side as she tries not to dwell on that tragedy, she flashes her gaze upward, daring to catch even a passing glimpse of the top of the vast canyon. In an instant her vision swims with endless pillars of rusty oranges and reds.

Everything on this planet might as well tower over her without Sapphire. The once-welcoming arms of their temple? Monolithic. The vaulted ceilings of the beach house? Her eidetic memory can’t help but remind her of her early days spent marching through Homeworld’s diamond sized hallways with the rest of her squadron, patrolling the same route for well over five hundred cycles straight. The kicker? The Diamonds never had any reason to visit the shipment sector in person, anyways. The hallways were only constructed with such high ceilings to remind any Gem passing through of their rightful place under the Authority.

Over two hundred years, she adhered to their twisted rhetoric. Two hundred years of allowing everyone and everything around her to make her feel small, like she only existed for a singular purpose. Two hundred years of ignoring the tug of dissatisfaction at the core of her gem because of the misplaced belief that orderly subjugation under the Diamonds was simply the rightful pattern of existence. Then, in a beautiful bloom of light… she caught a glimpse of true freedom. And for the five thousand seven hundred years after that, Garnet didn’t feel quite so small anymore. She felt capable, confident, satisfied. Aided by Ruby’s physical strength and Sapphire’s future vision, she finally dared to challenge Homeworld’s rhetoric. She dared to live for herself.

Sighing under her breath, Ruby touches her fingers to the place in her right palm where her missing gem is, tracing the triangular shape of its illusory facets.

There’s no use arguing; Garnet was a better Crystal Gem than she can ever hope to be on her own. And now, because Rose just had to go and manipulate all of them, there’s a strong chance she’ll never get to be Garnet with her Sapphy ever again. Which means that until further notice, she’s stuck like this: short, stubby, and woefully insecure. Hah! Figures. All those years spent fighting against Homeworld’s warped notion that Gems had stagnant purposes and couldn’t grow beyond their stations, and now it’s as if she’s been dumped back at the beginning, like the past five millennia never happened.

It’s a cruel irony.

And yet it’s no crueler than this awful place: a cradle of birth manufactured as a tool of war, a Gem’s very existence leeching the life out of this once-fertile ground. The scars on the walls tell a mournful story, and as Ruby slowly trudges after her loved ones, fingers numb and fidgety in the wake of haunted disorientation, she can’t help but wish she wasn’t present for its prologue.

“Ruby…?”

Her sight trains on one of the tilted exit holes closest to ground level, on the messy silhouette it provides. She remembers this one, in fact, Garnet watched her emerge. She was a carnelian. By Homeworld’s standards, an imperfect one. That doesn’t matter, though. None of Homeworld’s lies matter. Running on nothing but the primary orders she was incubated with, (it wasn’t her fault, it was the Diamonds’, she reminds herself with a bitter growl), that Gem still emerged to poof three fellow rebels on sight. If Garnet hadn’t been so quick to retrieve their gemstones, they might have been shattered that day. Many of the others assigned to her squadron weren’t as lucky. Inhaling shakily, Ruby pauses to trace her fingers across a raised ridge in the rough, brittle sandstone.

“Hey, Ruby!” his energetic voice calls again, snapping her out of her intense focus like a fusion splitting in half.

“Aaaah!” she cries, swinging around and pulling both fists up in defense. Her hands uncoil rapidly once she catches a glimpse of that cheery yellow star.

Aw, scrap! she chides herself, repositioning her feet solid on the ground to regain some sense of internal balance. Damned startle reflex.

Unfazed, Steven grins boyishly, skipping a few steps away from the rest of the group to join her by the cliff wall. “Penny for your thoughts?”

Amethyst and Peridot are watching now too, she realizes, her brief but audible outburst thoroughly diverting their attention from their Beta Kindergarten roast session. Their quizzical glances pin her in place, her hard-light form heating in embarrassment as she struggles to organize the flow of her emotions in a way that might make sense to anyone beyond a fellow ruby. She scrunches up her nose and considers her next words carefully, attempting to strike the proper boundary between what is and isn’t appropriate to say in front of a half-human child. Stars knows Amethyst, Pearl, and herself haven’t had a great record with that over the past few days.

“Just thinkin’ about Sapphire, mostly,” she admits, offering him a saddened shrug. “Can’t seem to stop that, even half a world away.”

“Speaking of that... Why did you run after us?” Amethyst asks in a notably less cranky manner than earlier, lightly kicking at the dirt with the toes of her booties. “You never said.”

“Y’know, I…” She pauses, pressing her hand to her chin. “I’m not sure. I spent days waiting in front of the temple door. And eventually, I guess I figured that if she’s gonna make me wait no matter what, I might as well do something with myself until then. ‘Sides, I didn’t want to be lonely,” she adds, suddenly feeling just as small and vulnerable in front of all of them as her timid voice sounds.

She felt lonely enough when she ran away from home a few days ago, tears streaming in messy rivulets down her face, utterly spurning their attempts at comfort so she could pretend she was anything else than powerless amidst this nightmare. She never wanted to split, not at all. She begged Sapphire to give their relationship another chance, to believe in the strength of their love more than the fear of a diamond’s control, but tragically, her partner couldn’t hold up under the pressure. If one individual doesn’t wholeheartedly want to be Garnet, then Garnet cannot exist. They can’t synchronize. It’s simply the nature of fusion. And given her love’s avoidance, refusing to so much as leave her room to begin with, Ruby’s beginning to lose hope that their fusion will ever exist again. The crippling isolation that realization affords is the worst form of loneliness she can imagine.

Thus, the least she can do at the moment to mitigate these all-consuming feelings is to get off her butt, leave the temple, and ensure she’s surrounded by loved ones.

Peridot steeples her fingers together in front of her chest. “Well, what if you moved in with us?” she offers in a meek tone at first, her expression brightening as she continues to explain her idea. “The barn’s got plenty of room, and with two roommates you’d never have to feel lonely again!”

Steven’s dark irises practically sparkle. “Aww, Peridot, that’s super sweet of you to offer!”

“Wow, thanks,” she replies earnestly, puffing out her chest in a rush of personal pride. “I do try!”

“Yeah!” Ruby says with a hesitant laugh, scratching at the back of her neck. “That sounds amazing, but…”

“You should do it, Ruby!” he encourages, bouncing up and down on his sandaled feet amidst his excitement. “You should totally move in with them!”

“D’ya… d’ya really think so?”

“Yeah! It’d be like your very own vacation, but you’d only be a warp away!”

“And you’re sure you’d be fine with it? Y’know, with everything at home all…” She blows a juicy raspberry, jabbing her thumb down.

Amethyst serves her a big shrug. “I ain’t got a problem. Go crazy.”

“There’s no need to worry about me,” Steven says, smiling evenly. “I only want what’s best for you. And if you think not staying in the temple all the time would make you feel better, you should give it a try!”

Her concerned glance drops on the young half-Gem. Sure, it’s very compassionate of him, actively choosing to care so deeply for everyone’s emotional needs all the time, but home life for him hasn’t exactly been nurturing and hospitable lately. He already lost one of his pillars of stability when Garnet unfused. Pearl and Amethyst are at each other’s necks again. Sapphire hasn’t emerged from her room for days. Greg’s… doing whatever it is Greg does when he’s not hanging out with his son, probably keeping his distance from Gem business as usual. So with all that in mind, even if temporarily living apart from Sapphire is sure to be a beneficial move for her personal well-being and sanity, is now actually the proper time to consider a change in scenery? She purses her lips.

“I’ll think about it.”

Peridot lets out a sharp squeal of delight, apparently ecstatic about the prospect of possibly gaining a new roommate. Ruby can’t help but grin at this response. In truth, if she didn’t have to consider the well-being of Steven and the rest of the Crystal Gems, she’d say yes in a heartbeat. After all, she’s never gotten the opportunity to make many decisions on her own. Heck, she’s never gotten the opportunity to do much of anything on her own. Every time she’s unfused within the last five thousand years, her priorities have always been about what Sapphire would want, what Sapphire would do.

Well, what about Ruby, this time? Aren’t her desires important? What does she want?

Long term… she has no clue. But right now? She’d prefer to avoid dire reminders of old sorrows at all costs, thank you. So when Peridot declares that she’s 99.9% positive she’s found Jasper’s exit hole, Ruby declines to join them in their roast session. She never came here for sightseeing, anyways. She came here as their lookout. Just in case. She’s never trusted this awful tear in the ground one bit, and she’s not about to start now.

Running instinctively on old programming she was incubated with, she creeps deeper between the narrow mouth of the cliffs and summons her gauntlets at her side. Sure, so maybe they’re not as daunting in their size as Garnet’s, but they can still pack one heck of a punch. She’s still good at punching on her own, yeah? Hopefully? Stars, it’s been so long since she’s gone solo for more than a few measly hours.

And then, at the cliff base in front of her, she spots the most unusual exit hole she’s seen in this miserable canyon yet. For one, it’s low to the ground, like Amethyst’s. That fact alone is enough to set off alarm bells in her head. On top of that, its silhouette is almost comically wide and indistinct, not resembling any cut of Gem she’s aware of.

“Huh. That’s different,” she murmurs, pacing closer to investigate.

Maybe an off-color topaz could punch a hole as wide as this? But… no, no. That can’t be right. Hard light coursing wildly through her form, Ruby dissipates one of her gauntlets and runs the tips of her fingers across the crumbly inside surface of this hole. A few granules of sandstone break off upon her touch and clatter against the ground, and she jerks her hand away as if touching impossibly cold ice. Something about this feels... wrong. To be fair, she’s no expert kindergartener like Peridot, but she’s pretty confident the interior of exit holes should be smooth, with striated rock layers extending all the way back. Instead, this bizarre scar in the cliffs almost seems like—

“It’s dug out,” she says, eyes widening in dawning horror.

Which means they may not be alone in this rusted relic of a Kindergarten after all.

Her body suddenly feeling staticky and unbalanced amidst all this damning uncertainty, she tiptoes away from this mysterious feature, slowly at first, and then— as the fear begins to bubble up within her core like boiling water transformed under her power— transitioning into a sprint. We’re not alone, she repeats to herself in a harried mantra. Not alone. Not alone, we’re not alone, we’re—

Ruby’s foot catches on an uneven lip of stone jutting up from the ground, and she quickly plows headfirst into the coarse dirt, promptly ending her terror-stricken flight.

“Ow,” she whines as she recovers from this fall, rubbing at the side of her head. Not only is she a little dizzy, but her surroundings are made further hazy amidst the overbearing sunlight pounding indiscriminately upon the ground floor of this canyon. It’s enough disorientation to allow the jumbled code of her gem to begin to play tricks on her. For one, she swears she can hear this low, timid skittering, like thick claws rhythmically scraping against rock. Second, she’s half-convinced she can feel a surplus of physical vibrations radiating from the cliffs surrounding her. Squinting, she shields her eyes under a raised arm so she can begin to gain her bearings again. The blinding light recedes.

The red Gem gulps fearfully amidst the burning colors of the harsh sandstone landscape. “Wait, is that—“

She’s stumbled her way into a massive clearing, lined on all sides by stacked rows of holes physically dug into the sheer walls. Each opening is barred by a number of thick metal rods, stripped from the legs of the injectors that once incubated this hell in the first place. The thoughtful engineering imbued in this setup is impressive and terrifying all at once. Ignoring the tangible tug of hesitation at her core, she pushes herself back on her feet and creeps towards the closest cage to investigate further.

“Uh, you guys?” she calls loudly as she walks, the unusual curves of this canyon an undisputed blessing as they carry her message back to the others.

“Yeah?” Amethyst chimes back, her voice notably distant. Too distant.

“We’ve got, um—” her hand glides across one of the bent, rusty bars— “a bit of a problem here?”

“What?? Speak louder, we can’t hear you!”

Before she can even prepare to reply, a fur-covered monstrous creature leaps from the shadowy abyss of its prison and snaps its tusks at her. She yells, jerking her hand away from the cage and stumbling a few feet back. Her brow creases in abject confusion as she attempts to process what she’s seeing in front of her. It’s… it’s a corrupted Gem? This one’s most definitely a quartz; she recognizes the faceting, as well as the distinctive fur-covered quadrupedal shape of its corrupted form. But why on Earth is it being trapped within a cage in the middle of a defunct kindergarten instead of being placed in a bubble’s comforting stasis? The ground beneath her feet grows noticeably warmer as a rush of impassioned anger surges through her hard light form. She grinds her teeth together, flexing her fists at her side in the name of this cruel injustice. Caging isn’t part of Crystal Gem protocol for a reason!

Unfortunately, the horror show continues as her gaze passes over each and every cage in this clearing, finding scared, thrashing, corrupted Gems in almost all of them. Fluid builds up at the corner of her eyes as they scream and wail at her, riding a fresh wave of cacophony spurned by that Gem she spooked just a moment ago. How could anyone ever build such an awful place? And why?

Heavy, assured footfalls suddenly bounce across the acoustically encouraging slopes and surfaces of this ravine, magnified tenfold in their wake. Ruby gasps, wasting no time in ducking behind a tall rocky formation at the mouth of the clearing. That’s definitely not Amethyst or any of the others. It sounds too large, too bulky. She kneels low so she can still peek over the topmost layer of sandstone, a knot of dread coiling within as the footfalls continue to grow louder. Groaning, she clutches at her head. The unknown, the impenetrable shadow of the future… stars, it haunts her more than loneliness itself.

And then, the specter of her history reveals herself, making Ruby’s tangible form stutter in the sheer terror her appearance affords.

Jasper— her opponent, her nightmare, the Rebel Slayer herself— emerges from a plume of rising dust at the edge of this populous arena and enters the game.

#su #steven universe #ruby #amethyst #peridot #su fanfiction #my writing stuff #crack the paragon

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shhhlikeme · 4 years

Text

“Losty Aone” / “Losty Mountain Man🏔” Series:

Outtake Collection #6

———————————

A/N: 1 word, 5 letters: D R A M A

Pls peep the vote at the end! I know there are not very many of you who read this so I want to make it enjoyable for y’all 🥰 it’s sooo important to me that I write what makes me happy

OUTTAKE 5 WAS POSTED HOURS BEFORE THIS ONE SO CHECK IT !

‼️THIS IS THE 10TH PART IN A SERIES READ THE OTHER PARTS BEFORE THIS ONE: ‼️

TABLE OF CONTENTS

———————————

Hours After You Noticed Aone For The First Time And Had Lunch Together! 🤫🥩

With a very discreet bounce in his step, Aone Takanobu walked into the Date Tech boys volleyball team changeroom after exchanging numbers with you after school.

“AONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Upon entrance, the entire team jumped him, tackling him to the ground while shouting praise and acclamations of joy loudly!

Aone was actually grinning, shoving the boys off of him to pretend that he was annoyed.

But anyone could tell that this mountain man was on cloud 9!!!!

Futakuchi reached out his hand to help Aone up and the mountain man took it. They shared a look that only Aone knew meant his best friend was happy for him. Proud of him.

Actually, Kenji’s look was one of happiness and pride, yes, but it was also full of nerves for his friend’s potential heartbreak. But Aone was too overjoyed inside to pick up on that.

“So Y/N finally knows your name!” Koganegawa yelled as he jumped on Aone’s back.

Shrugging the big boned setter off, Aone blushed. He has never been happier in his entire life and it was kind of embarrassing that the whole team knew why that was.

“I’m very happy.” Aone nodded at his team who smiled brilliantly back at him. “But please, do not get your hopes up. I’m trying with everything in me not to get mine up, in case Y/N decides she doesn’t like me. She and I are just going to start talking for now. And for that I am grateful.” Stomach in knots, Aone bowed to his team in thanks for all the encouragement and praise.

“But Aone-senpai, Y/N asked you to lunch! We all watched you guys, she looked ecstatic talking to you and she even glared at these other girls in the hallway because they were checking you out!”

Aone’s heart dropped. “She did?”

Kenji smiled, patting him on the back. “Saw it with my own eyes too, big guy.”

Aone felt like he was so happy he could sing, but he knew how odd that would look coming from such a big and serious guy like himself.

“Oh. Well... that’s quite nice.”

What a turn of events! This morning, Aone was going through another day with a heavy heart because the love of his life would never like him back. Then, it only took him defending you against the class snitch for everything to change......

✏️ Earlier That Day ✏️

Aone was sitting in class like any other day, doing his work, listening to the teacher intermittently and your daily conversation with your friends. The teacher excused himself to run a club errand for 20 minutes, trusting the class to stay quiet and complete their homework. Like most typical high school classes, the volume raised as soon as the teacher stepped out. Aone glanced over at your talkative self for the 15th time that period and noticed how much you were glowing because your team had returned last night placing second at Regionals. You looked radiant, absolutely stunning with your brighter smile and louder angelic laugh.

In Mountain Man’s daydream, he imagined telling you that you looked beautiful today followed by a congratulations for placing second. You would rush over to him and kiss him in thanks then start ripping his clothes off so that you could—

“Y/N! I am sick and tired of you and the rest of the popular kids not listening to the teachers instructions! What part of ‘stay quiet’ is hard to understand in that pea brain of yours!?!??!”

To Aone’s left, sitting in his row, he looked for the yelling voice. It was who everyone (except Aone) called ‘the class snitch’ and school mascot: Tsume Lian.

Also known as Y/N’s arch nemesis.

Seating looks like:

Y/N glared at him.

“Tsume, no one was talking to you.”

“I know that, dork!” He fumed. “BECAUSE WE ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE TALKING! I’m trying to do my homework as asked, and you and the popular crowd just ignore everything the teacher says and it’s disgusting! I’m tired of it! I want you expelled!”

Aone noticed Y/N’s startled expression at the prospect of being expelled, because he knew from overhearing your conversations that your parents were this close to sending you to Seijoh to get your grades up and live on campus there. According to your gossip last week, if you failed another class or got another complaint from a teacher then your parents would under no circumstances allow you to cheer again.

Aone clenched his fists tightly around his pencil because he couldn’t stand the idea of seeing Motomu or Kindaichi drooling over you at his enemy school.

One of Y/N’s friends who Aone knew as Kusa, spoke up in defence of Y/N. “Oh shut it, Tsume. Us chatting isn’t bothering anyone else.”

“I don’t care! You cheerleaders think you can do anything you want and that’s that!! YOU WILL face repercussions if I can help it!”

Kusa feigned fear. She turned her entire body toward him in her seat, meaning business. A bitch had time today.

The entire class gave this drama all of their undivided attention when they witnessed that move, ready for the show like:

“Oh yeah?! And why are you just snapping about this now, huh? Why not before?” Kusa snapped. You put a hand on your friends arm, silently trying to tell her he isn’t worth her energy.

“Because I realized just how selfish, inconsiderate, and deplorable you good-looking, popular women are! You don’t deserve to be bowed down to like I thought! You should be treated like everybody else!”

“What are you talking about?” Y/N interjected. “No one treats us like that. Even if they did, we don’t ask them to nor do we ask to be popular and we especially don’t ask for special treatment, Lian. Why are you so mad??? Get your life.”

COLLECT HIMMMMMM 👏🏾👏🏾

Aone smirked to himself. In all his years of crushing on you he has never seen you look so fierce and he too put his pencil down to enjoy what was a different and fiery side of his crush. It made him want to fuck the shit out of you, you looked so sexy. Aone found he liked every side of you.

“I did have a life. I was a mascot and—“

“—And you were spending too much time looking up our SKIRTS instead of hyping up a CROWD, making the first years uncomfortable and borderline stalking Y/N so badly she asked that we terminate you! You are lucky she kept that to herself for so long! 🤬 And THAT’S why you’re mad!”

The class collectively gasped. Some whipped their phones out to snapchat the gossip. Aone widened his eyes in silence, since he was in between, he was looking back and forth at the fight like a tennis match.

Hahahaha 🎾

Live footage of the classes reaction when Kusa READ TSUME FOR FILTH:

Tsume went red with anger, but anyone could tell that he was guilty guilty guilty !!!!

“When the teacher returns, I’m telling him and the principal the truth that you Y/N are a bully and you constantly disrupt the class! Who do you think they’re going to believe?! Their best student? Or their worst?! Say hi to AobaJohsai summer school for me!”

You frowned, scared out of your mind because Lian was right. The teacher’s believed everything he had to say and ever since you exposed him for sending you creepy messages and inappropriate pictures from a fake account that you knew was his, the class snitch has had it out for you. Even if the cheerleaders had your back, your parents would just think they are trying to protect you and never believe it! Tsume Lian was smart and dead set on planning your demise. It was unfair. You wanted to cry. Kusa whispered something to you in encouragement but you could feel the back of your eyes warming due to impending tears.

Meanwhile, with Mountain Man - Today was a day of firsts in his ‘Crushing on Y/N’ book. It was the first time he’s ever seen you glowing because of the Regional results, it was the first time he’s ever seen you so sassy, and now............. Aone notes that today is also the first time he’s ever seen you on the verge of tears before.

Unlike your glowing and your sassiness, Aone decided that he hated the last first more than anything in the world.

It consumed his emotions, how badly he didn’t want to see you cry.

“You really are slimy, Tsume. Wait until Katana hears this.” Kusa spat, rubbing her hand up and down Y/N’s back to soothe you as you willed your tears not to fall.

Seeing you so sad, Aone’s heart clenched.

He knew what it was like to be hurting but he never ever wanted that for you—not ever.

“Hey Y/N-chan, why don’t you show me that video your mom got of our reaction to us placing second yesterday?? I’d love to see it.” Kusa has accurately distracted you because she texted Katana what was happening and Katana knew just what to do until she got there.

You smiled, thinking about the overwhelming happiness from yesterday when your team placed second. You whipped out your phone and showed Kusa, smiling and giggling in a matter of seconds as it played.

Aone was glad you seemed good.

He turned to look at Tsume, who seemed to be raging inside. Shooting daggers at the two cheerleaders because they weren’t crumbling under his threats. They were laughing, in fact. Ignoring him as if he didn’t matter. Aone could tell Tsume was a ticking time bomb with how mad he was. His anger toward you looked severely unhealthy.

You let out a rather amusing laugh with Kusa as you two pointed to your screen and Aone’s heart skipped a beat because he loved that laugh so much. God, he is so fucking whipped.

When you laughed like that though, it sent perverted-snitch Tsume over the edge, bubbling over in anger like a piping hot kettle.

Aone watched him with studious eyes as Tsume took a deep breath to say something else that Aone was sure would stop your harmonious laughter that he adored......

“Y/N—“ Tsume started, but without warning, THE AONE TAKANOBU, DATE TECH MIDDLE BLOCKER, OUR MOUNTAIN MAN, interrupted him! Stopping all speech in the class with his simple, deep-voiced command:

“Leave her be. She’s having fun.”

The class:

The class went silent because they’d never really heard Aone’s voice before. :S

Still riled up, the class snitch took one look beside him (he was too distracted before) as to locate the voice. Once his eyes set on the verrrry muscular and verrrry mountainous man sitting between him and Y/N, he decided it would be smart to not be riled up anymore. A drop of sweat leaving his hairline, Lian scanned Aone’s gigantic body with his eyes, seeing that the volleyball player just barely fit in his desk—he gulped.

Aone had a relaxed expression, meaning to say what he said nonchalantly, but one needs to remember that Aone’s relaxed expression looks like this:

Needless to say, the ex-mascot almost pissed himself.

Is that Y/N’s b-b-boyfriend now? Tsume wondered to himself in panic as several more drops of sweat ran down his face.

“O-o-ok-o-o-oka-okay-y....” Tsume stuttered out as he turned back to his school work.

Five minutes later when the teacher came in, Tsume had nothing to say. He only had a sweat damped stack of homework to give him before he fled, not waiting for the bell of dismissal.

Did I frightened him? Aone thought.

He didn’t mean to. Sincerely. He was as gentle as giants come (except in bed if you rile him up enough or when someone is bothering you).

The class went back to normal and Aone continued working too.

But one person didn’t—no, couldn’t go back to normal:

You.

You sat in your seat still slack jawed because someone you didn’t know came to your rescue and quite possibly single handedly stopped your expulsion. How have you not noticed him before?! He is gorgeous!

Tall, muscular, handsome. Shiny white hair, beautiful lips. And he came to your defence.

In your opinion , he was a FINEASS mountain man! 🏔🤤

Yes ma’am!!!!

Anyway, while everyone was talking, working and minding their own business—including Aone—you slid out of your desk and bounced over to his happily.

“Hi! Thanks so much for defending me a little while ago!”

Bitch, this was you: ☺️😊😄

lost ass

Aone raised his head to look at you, jumping back slightly because he never even heard you approach. He stared up at you with a heart that stopped beating, absolutely speechless.

WHAT IS HAPPENING? He thought. YOU WERE TALKING................TO HIM? You were NOTICING..............HIM?!

😱😳🤯

You reached over to touch the handsome giant’s arm in his sweater, smiling at him endearingly.

“I’m Y/N! It’s nice to meet you!”

yeah you lost af, bitch 😐

Aone wanted to say something, he did. But he was just too shocked that the girl he thinks about nonstop, the girl he wishes was his, the girl he just had a wet dream about last night, was talking to him and only him for the first time.

Unexpectedly!

Takanobu always thought you two would first speak because of Futakuchi or the teacher but not because of him.

Aone couldn’t fathom the fact that HE made this happen! HE was the reason you were over here!

Aone: 🤯🤯🤯

It was ALL. TOO. MUCH.

He couldn’t speak.

You removed your hand from his arm, silently chastising yourself because you shouldn’t touch people without permission.

Not that Aone minded. That boy would want you to touch him anywhere, on anyday, at anytime that pleased you.

“Sorry.” You looked down shyly, then met his serious expression again, wanting to be sure he knew how grateful you were for his help.

“Um.... you probably don’t know this but you getting that pervert to leave me alone is quite possibly the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. And you did it for a stranger like me, no less.”

A/N: RUB IT IN THAT YOU DONT KNOW THE MAN MORE, WHY DONT YOU ?! 🤬

You tucked your hair behind you ear while holding his gaze. Aone could only nod because his throat was dry. You looked so incredibly perfect up-close and he wanted to make sure he remembered this. He just couldn’t speak.

Feeling a little awkward now because you just tried starting a conversation with this FINEASS classmate of yours to only get a nod in return, you laughed timidly.

“Okay, well I guess I’ll...” you turned on your heels so you could make your way back to your desk with your L. “....see you later.” You finished, telling him over your shoulder.

Much like when he defended you against Tsume, Aone didn’t know what came over him then: maybe it was all the memories of him feeling heartbroken that you’d never notice him or return his feelings—maybe it was the promise he made that he would do something toward pursuing you if you would just notice him first—or maybe is was because his best friend Kenji would have his HEAD if Aone told him he let you walk away right now without trying....... after TWO YEARS.........that compelled him to respond to your “see you later” bravely, FINALLY UTTERING WORDS TO YOU FOR THE FIRST TIME IN HIS ENTIRE LIFE:

“When?”

^Asked Aone, just as you were walking away from him.

You stilled, feeling excitement in your body because he answered. You spun around and jumped back in front of his desk. You gave him a questioning look.

You responded, “When, what?”

Even though he was melting under your attention, Aone couldn’t give up now. He had to shoot his shot. This may be his only chance.

“When is later?” He elaborated.

Huh? You thought.

You blinked at the stunning classmate. What is he—OH, does he mean.....

“As in...when will I see you again?”

Aone nodded at you, holding his breath.

You massaged your chin, thinking 🤔.

You can admit you wanted to know more about this gorgeous man who came to your rescue. There was something about him that made you feel safe and warm. You couldn’t quite place it. You’ve never wanted to spend time with anyone outside of cheerleading more than this guy—so you owed it to yourself to explore that small feeling, right?

“Okay. Well, how about now? Lunch is after this period. Would you want to have it with me?!” You asked cheerily.

Though he didn’t show it, inside, fireworks went off in Aone’s mind, heart, and stomach...!

Actual footage:

Aone nodded quickly. Way too quickly for someone who did not want to come across as the most eager beaver in the world.

But he was...... and you noticed. It made you smile.

“Okay. So when the bell rings you can walk me to my locker and I’ll put away my stuff, then we’ll go to yours....then we can go head to lunch together. Sound good?”

Aone nodded quickly again!

You gave him the big smile that made him become a simp for you in the first place and you took your seat again.

Takanobu was so excited he literally almost stood up to spin the hand clock that hung up beside the door himself so that time could go by faster. He couldn’t even move to text Kenji because he knew his hands would shake.

He just sat there, his mind whirling mad until the bell finally rang. You said bye to Kusa and watched as this blonde hottie stood up from his seat, towering over you.

God, he was so freaking HOT! You wanted to jump him.

At the same time students filed out of the class, Aone turned to you as he collected his things then slung his bag over his shoulder.

“May I carry your books for you, Y/N?” Mountain man asked sheepishly in his stern voice.

Your heart fluttered by how cute and sweet he was to ask!

“Umm, sure! Thank you so much!” You smiled and handed your heavy books over.

You two walked beside eachother and Aone held the door open for you. You didn’t know why he was being so nice but you couldn’t lie that you felt very charmed.

“Y/N.”

You looked up at the handsome giant with curious eyes after he called your name.

“My name is Aone Takanobu by the way. You introduced yourself before, but I did not answer. I’m sorry. Either way, I knew who you were already. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Your smiled widened as you bounced on your feet while walking. “Very nice to meet you too, Aone Takanobu. I’ve actually heard of you before.”

Aone’s eyes lit up like 👀

“Wait r-really?”

Omg precious bby 🥺🥺🥺

“Yes. At a cheerleading sleepover. All good things, don’t worry. It’s just funny because I said that night how hopefully I’ll meet you and now here we are!”

Aone chuckled as he held open another door for you. When he did and you two walked down another hall, he caught sight of two very conspicuous volleyball players (one looked eerily like Justin Bieber, the other looked big boned) hugging eachother and slumping down to the ground at the sight of you and Aone. Aone rolled his eyes, thinking that they were lucky you never noticed your surroundings.

“Here we are.” Aone repeated, shooting a secret thumbs up at his friends who were on the verge of crying.

***

Nearing the end of an enjoyable lunch for both of you where you spoke a lot and Aone listened with heart eyes: he pulled your chair out for you, he was responding, he was chuckling, and overall hanging onto your every word, never wanting your time together to end. You became rather smitten.

***

“The bell is gonna ring soon, Aone. I just want to thank you again for buying my lunch and spending this time with me! I know it was super random!”

Aone got lost in your eyes as you said his name, because he’s never taken a moment to analyze how nice it could sound if it was caressed by your voice. Also, he’s never heard his name said by someone so beautiful (when it wasn’t being said in a question). He was BATHING in joy.

Although Aone didn’t answer and he’s maintained his stoic expression the entire lunch, deep down you felt that this man had a thing for you. He was very intense so it was quite obvious. But since you enjoyed the lunch so much and you were starting to have a thing for him, too, you wanted to confirm:

“Also, Aone-san, I’m happy to know that you can say more than 4 words 😲! I asked my friend earlier and she said you basically never speak.” You exclaimed, fishing.

Aone smirked, feeling the need to defend himself on that front. “It is true that that is the consensus of the majority of people who come in contact with me. However, that is because there exists few people, that I feel inclined to speak to.”

Hook, line, and sinker. Your eyes twinkled at his words. He looked like a jock but sounded so eloquent! You loved it:

“Oh wow well you spoke a lot to me today so I guess I must be a little special then, huh.......?” You twirled your hair around your index finger as you asked, causing Aone to almost drool.

listen, you...kind of..... wanted mountain man.

And you were only flirting minimally okay.....minimally, so don’t judge

You just wanted to know if your suspicions were right that he had a little crush on you or if he saw you as a friend

Aone looked down at you, thinking of a way to respond to you asking if you were special to him.

A/N: 😣🤞🏾AONE DONT CREEPY 😣🤞🏾DONT BE CREEPY 😣🤞🏾DON’T BE CREEPY 😣🤞🏾

“This is our first time speaking. So I am not entirely sure if you’re special yet...” He started.

You quirked your eyebrow attractively, anticipating how he would end that sentence.

“...But I hope that even after this lunch ends I can take you out again a few more times, Y/N-chan—somewhere nice and off-campus, perhaps—so that I can truly decipher whether you are or not.”

You quirked your eyebrow even higher, impressed by the smooth way he told you he wants to keep seeing you!

WELL SIS HES ONLY HAD 2 YEARS OF PRACTICE I MEAN—

“I’d love to.” You accepted, making Aone smile.

He was absolutely stunning when he smiled, it was almost unfair.

The bell rang.

“Mind walking me back to my locker, Aone?”

Aone stood on internally shaky legs that he willed to be normal. “Of course.” He took both yours and his tray and dumped it out before escorting you out of the cafeteria.

✏️ Back in the Locker Room ✏️

“We are happy for you, Aone.” Kenji patted his large friend on the back.

“I had your voice in the back of my mind, Kenji-san. I owe this happiness to you and your support. I know you’re worried that I’ll get my heart broken and be crushed but I’m thankful for you supporting me anyway. You will forever be my brother.”

———————————

Taglist: @crushzone @galagcica

Outtake #7: CLICK HERE

THE VOTE! ☑️

Upcoming outtakes (NSFW):

Losty Aone answering Kenji’s call while you’re having sex. He told you to please wait but...um....no. Hang up, buddy 😈

When you tease poor Losty Aone during class and make him want to f*ck you hard

You telling Aone that you’re horny before his game knowing you’d be cheering next to him the whole time being suggestive

Sending Aone a nude for the first time

First Kiss (In which Aone gets his first urge)

Discovering Aone’s ear kissing kink

Upcoming Fluff outtakes:

Aone on your first birthday as a couple

The official confession

Aone Embarrassingly telling Y/N about the things he did when he was crushing on you :/ (cupcake, donation, wet dreams, hoping to be your tutor, etc!)

When Aone fills in at one of your cheer practices!

Aone having to save you from your annoying admirers

Send me an ask/message/comment below with the number(s) of the outtake you really want me to write and the ones with votes will be done

Say “Losty Aone Story nsfw number ___” or “Losty Aone Story fluff number ___”

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ninja-go-to-therapy · 4 years

Text

Febuwhump 3: Imprisonment

I’ve been bugging my friends about how excited I am to post this one for so long awlkjfasdlkjf

Summary: Louie makes friends with the richest kid in Duckburg: Doofus Drake. But he quickly realizes his new friend isn’t entirely sane. Especially when he kidnaps him. The problem? His family doesn’t know where he is. He hates Only Child Day.

Trigger Warnings: kidnapping, forced feeding, beating, torture, light dehumanization, I’ve been told Doofus deserves his own warning, mentions of trauma, possessive whumper, imprisonment, strangling

3423 words

Louie had been a captive of Doofus Drake for no more than half an hour, and he was still failing to come up with a plan.

He had to get out of here.

He just... he had to think. Sure, he wasn’t smart, like Huey, or daring to a borderline crazy degree, like Dewey, but he was... uh... he was definitely... shit.

He was nothing without his brothers.

He’d known this stupid only child thing was a bad idea, but Dewey had insisted. He, for all his siblings drove him crazy, actually liked being a triplet. Dewey, on the other hand… didn’t.

That kind of hurt.

But he didn’t have time for that, because what hurt worse than that was being stuck in some psycho’s house.

Some psycho who might hurt him if he didn’t get out fast.

Louie should have ran the second Doofus had pulled a box out of his pants.

That had been so incredibly weird, enough to have him somewhat frantically spamming the down button on the elevator, but then he’d held out the box to him with nothing more than an easygoing “friend present!” and, well… the gold had enticed him instantly. He hated that it had been so easy to catch his attention.

Louie would admit it: he could be shallow sometimes. He liked money. But honestly, after growing up practically dirt-poor, he sort of thought he deserved to.

He knew how miserable a lack of money could be.

“Oh… for me?” Louie had asked.

“I like to play with my friends,” was all he’d gotten in return.

He’d slipped the bracelet easily over his wrist, admiring it. He’d almost forgotten that there had been a time when it wasn’t so tight. So disgusting.

“Alright, friend. Let’s play!”

Things had gone smoothly, for the most part, after that.

He’d been weirded out when Doofus aggressively sniffed his hair… multiple times… but he’d gotten over it so fast when he distracted him with pretty things.

Well, in this case, it was more the breaking of pretty things, but the point remained.

Surprisingly, tearing apart priceless items was actually a really good stress reliever, and Louie had quickly forgotten all his troubles.

Until he went to slash at a portrait of an old woman and was promptly tackled to the floor.

And then, if he thought it couldn’t have gotten any more concerning, Doofus was throwing a full on fit, screaming and tearing shit up to an even greater degree than before.

Louie, so incredibly uncomfortable, had attempted to make small talk with Doofus’s “servants”, as he’d called them.

“My butler’s a ghost,” Louie had said, “yup, he’s dead.”

“We’re dead inside. We’re Doofus’s parents,” the maid had revealed.

That… that was not good.

“The money and power changed him. Go. Before it’s too late!” His mother had urged.

Louie had backed towards the door, deciding that having rich friends really wasn’t worth… whatever this was.

“What’s next friendy-friend?”

He’d stumbled slightly, but continued making his way to the door. It was just too much. It had been getting beyond weird and into straight-up freaky.

“Oh, well, you know, I just noticed it’s getting a little late. Uh, so I’m just gonna head home, and fondly remember all the good times we had. Cool? Cool, alright bye!”

He’d made to step out the door, heart pounding. He’d been so sure than in just a moment, this nightmare would be over.

But before he could even move, the bracelet had tightened until it dug into his wrist painfully, and then, if that hadn’t been bad enough, all at once it had gained this odd weight to it. He was on the floor in less than a second.

He’d gasped, tugging frantically, but the bracelet — cuff? — wouldn’t budge.

Drake had just smiled down at him innocently, but it had only made Louie feel sick to his stomach. “You are home, friend-present!”

He’d slammed the door before Louie could even begin to hope he could escape.

Only then was when he’d been starting to realize that this kid was fucking deranged. Like, absolutely out of his mind.

Why had Louie even wanted to be friends with him in the first place? He could have found other rich kids, ones who were just stuck-up and bitchy, instead of the absolute maniac who was standing above him!

“Let me out!” Louie had demanded. “This isn’t funny!”

“Of course not,” he’d agreed, “it’s quite serious.”

“You do realize who my family is, right? In fact, you should probably just let me go right now, so you don’t have to deal with them.”

Doofus had laughed. “You are funny, friend-present.”

Louie had scowled at the nickname, if you could even call it that. “Why are you doing this?”

“It’s rare that I meet a friend as lovely as you,” he hummed. “I couldn’t just let you slip through my fingers, now could I?”

That had been… creepy. He probably should have expected, at that point, that it would only get worse. But the only thing he’d known right then was that he needed to get out of here. This kid was seriously disturbed.

“My family will come looking for me! And they won’t be happy!” He’d insisted. But that was also when he’d realized that there was one massive roadblock to the plan of waiting it out for his family to come. It was that stupid Only Child Day. Which meant that his brothers were still off doing their own thing, and likely wouldn’t even realize Louie had disappeared until late that night. Worse, he hadn’t opted to actually tell anyone where he was going.

They had no idea he was here. They didn’t even know who Doofus Drake was.

And now, he was stuck on some creepy platform thing. There were three of them. One for Doofus’s mom, one for his dad, and one for him.

Louie tried to ignore the fact that the third one was a clear indication that Doofus had been waiting for something like this. Louie had walked right into his open arms.

“The sooner you give up, the better,” Doofus’s dad was saying, “hope only makes it worse.” The poor guy looked… kind of traumatized. What had that man been through?

Louie was terrified to find out.

“No! If the three of us work together, we might just be able to get out of here!” he insisted, hope blossoming as a vague plan began to form in his mind. “Are you with me?”

The other two shared a look, before nodding their agreement.

And not a moment too soon, because just then, the door opened, and in came Doofus Drake. As he approached Louie, he could only look at him, attempting a poker face. It probably wasn’t working very well.

“The new one’s a traitor!” Doofus’s dad shouted within an instant. “But I stopped him out of loyalty. Because I love you, Doofus.”

“You’re pathetic,” Doofus’s mom grumbled, glaring at him.

“No, he’s lying! I would never do that!” Louie cried, panic spiking through him. “I’m your friend!” he said with a forced smile. “...Present,” he tacked on, suppressing a disgusted shudder to the best of his ability. “Oh, gross…”

“I don’t think I like you anymore, new friend,” Doofus said, glaring at him. Before Louie could get his hopes up that maybe that meant that he was going to be let go, Doofus reached into a plastic bag he’d dragged in with him when he’d entered the room. “Maybe you need a lesson in friendship.”

“Wait,” Louie said as Doofus pulled out an umbrella, “What’s that for?”

Doofus didn’t answer him, reaching into the bag again and pulling out a smaller bag of walnuts. Louie had never thought such an action could be threatening, but oh boy… it sure was now.

“What is he gonna do with the umbrella and walnuts?” he asked desperately, frantically pushing himself as far back on his platform as the bracelet would allow.

Doofus approached him slowly and deliberately, eyes narrowed.

Louie couldn’t get any further away than he already was. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to prepare himself for whatever was about to come.

But then nothing came.

The silence was so loud. He could hear four sets of breathing, and that was it. Breathe in, two, three, him. Breathe out, two, three, him. Hesitantly, he peaked his eyes open.

Doofus stood directly in front of him, and, to Louie’s surprise, he’d set the umbrella to the side. It had seemed important just a moment ago, why had it been discarded already? Something wasn’t right about that.

“Here,” he said, holding out his hand. Louie glanced at it, confused. He was holding a handful of the walnuts.

He glanced at Doofus’s parents. “What exactly is going on right now?”

“Eyes on me!” Doofus yelled, his tone reminding Louie of earlier, when he’d been screaming about his dead grandma. Louie complied in an instant, terrified. Doofus took a breath, a calm smile slipping back onto his face. “That’s better.”

Louie just laughed nervously.

“Now,” he said, offering a handful of the walnuts in Louie’s direction again. “Eat them.”

“I — what?” Louie asked, another uncomfortable laugh spilling out. “You realize we can’t eat nuts, right?”

“Eat. Them.”

“I literally can’t, those things mess you up—”

“You’re going to eat them, Llewellyn,” Doofus said, threateningly. “I suggest you do it now.”

As far as being taught a lesson went, this seemed too… tame. Louie didn’t understand it. Doofus was totally unhinged, and while Louie absolutely did not want to eat something that his body couldn’t handle, it just felt like a punishment that was far too sane.

Louie had always prided himself on being able to read people pretty well, but right now, he was just confused.

Still, despite the lacking severity of the threat, he was still afraid. He’d be concerned for anyone who wasn’t afraid of some kid who’d kidnapped them, to be perfectly honest.

When Louie didn’t respond, Doofus glared at him. “Alright,” he said, dropping the nuts back into the bag and grabbing for the umbrella again. “If that’s how you want to be.”

“I don’t — I mean — we can talk this out, can’t we?” Louie said, panic gripping his heart even harder as he realized that he had no idea how to manipulate him. He couldn’t talk his way out of this one, could he?

The metal (and sharp) tip of the umbrella came up harshly against his chin, jerking his entire head up along with it and effectively cutting off whatever else Louie could have possibly tried to say. The point dug slightly into his neck in a painful manner, but that was the least of his problems, right now.

“You’re a real bratty child,” Doofus said, considering him for another moment. Too fast for Louie to keep up, the umbrella had been yanked away from him, and then slammed against his stomach.

He doubled over with a pained shout, wheezing as breath left his body.

The other end of the umbrella — the curved handle bit, this time — was practically shoved into his mouth, prying his beak open.

One of the walnuts was pushed into his mouth, and Louie immediately gagged. He couldn’t do anything to get away, so he could only do his best to swallow it, trying not to choke.

Doofus smiled that stupid little bastard smile.

That look was probably going to be burned into Louie’s nightmares when he got out of here.

Another of the stupid nuts was shoved into his mouth. He gagged again, he swallowed again. His mouth was already getting uncomfortably dry.

If ever he’d had the urge to eat a nut (he hadn’t, because he didn’t have a death wish), this experience alone would have been enough to get him to swear them off forever. He didn’t even like the flavor, not that he had much time to give thought to that.

Doofus didn’t stop until the bag was empty, and by that point, Louie was beginning to feel cramps churning in his stomach. He knew it would only get worse from here.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Doofus asked as he finally took back the umbrella. Louie just worked his jaw, trying to lessen the stiffness in it. He didn’t have it in him to reply.

His lack of response only seemed to make Doofus angry again, and before he knew it, the umbrella was bashed against him.

Louie yelped at the pain it brought, using his one free arm in an attempt to block the next blow. It didn’t do much.

“You will answer me when spoken to!” Doofus shrieked, practically stabbing him with the force of the next hit.

“I’m sorry!” Louie cried. “Please stop!”

Doofus did not, in fact, stop. He just kept hitting him mercilessly.

Louie had been given his fair share of injuries in the months he’d spent adventuring, but regardless, this hurt something awful. He supposed being assaulted with an umbrella would do that to a guy.

But no matter what he was saying, Doofus wouldn’t cease. He just kept attacking him.

At some point, Louie remembered that Doofus’s parents were there. “Help,” he begged, his voice cracking slightly.

“Doofus, stop,” his mom demanded. “This has gone far enough!”

“Are you questioning me?” Doofus shouted, finally stopping with the umbrella so he could storm over to his mother. “How dare you!”

He screamed, throwing down the umbrella so hard it could have broken. Louie flinched away from him, though the bracelet wouldn’t let him get far.

“That’s it. That’s it!” Doofus said, growling. He stomped towards the door, leaving without another word.

“Why would you do that?” Mr. Drake asked nervously, glancing towards the door.

“I’m not just going to sit by and watch him torture an innocent young boy!” Mrs. Drake snapped. “Are you alright, dear?”

“I’m… fine,” Louie said, smiling semi-convincingly. They weren’t the worst injuries he’d ever received. He’d be fine. Probably. Though it certainly hadn’t helped the nausea he was already feeling from the walnuts. He was worried he’d end up vomiting them up pretty soon…

Something in his pocket buzzed.

Something in his… he had his phone. He could call for help! He could get out of here!

Frantically, he pulled his phone from the pocket of his suit, fumbling with it slightly.

“What are you doing?” Mr. Drake cried.

“I’m calling for help!” Louie said, cursing to himself as the screen remained unresponsive for a moment. It had a few cracks on it from his beating. “Come on, you stupid piece of junk! Work with me!” he begged.

He didn’t have long until Doofus returned, that much was clear. He had to be fast.

The phone nearly fell from his grasp multiple times with how bad he was shaking, but he managed to hold onto it, pulling up his contacts app. Before he could dial anyone, he could hear approaching footsteps.

Louie stuffed the phone back in his pocket, doing his best to look unsuspicious.

“I’m back!” Doofus declared, already in a significantly better mood. He met Louie’s eyes, then frowned. He took a few steps closer, refusing to break eye contact.

Louie held his breath, doing his best to win the staring contest. He didn’t like the look he was being given.

In the corner of his eye, Louie could see Mr. Drake fidgeting anxiously. Oh god, if he ratted him out again, he didn’t know what Doofus would do.

“Servant!” Doofus snapped. “Is there anything I should know?”

Louie met the man’s eyes, pleading with him silently. Surely he wouldn’t do it. Surely he would see reason.

“The new one has a phone!” he cried. “He tried to contact someone.”

Doofus glared at Louie, storming forward and pulling the phone directly from his pocket. Louie cried out in panic, reaching for it against his better judgement.

“I was willing to forgive you for your earlier behavior,” Doofus said, “but this? This is unacceptable.” he pocketed Louie’s phone, then pulled out another golden bracelet.

“What’s that for?” Louie asked, eyeing it nervously. “I — uh — I already have one of those!”

Doofus laughed, standing face to face with his captive. “Not quite, my friend present.” Before Louie could do anything to stop him, he’d clasped the thing around his neck.

For a moment, he didn’t even process it. He just stared at his captor in confusion, then slowly felt the bracelet around his neck with his free hand.

“What?” he squeaked.

Doofus clicked something on the remote, and suddenly Louie — could move his arm? What the hell?

Before he could get any ideas about running away, however, Doofus grabbed him roughly and dragged him away from the front door and further back into the house. They took several twists and turns, Louie struggling the whole way, before eventually, he was pulled into a room just as fancy as the other rooms here. The main difference was that, in the very middle of the room, as if it was just another piece of furniture, was a large crystal cage.

“Wait, wait wait, you can’t just—”

His last ditch effort wasn’t worth anything, and he was thrown into the cage anyway.

Immediately, he was prying at the bars, but they wouldn’t give. There was enough spacing that he could get his arm through, but he was nowhere near being able to squeeze between them. On the “bright” side, the cage itself wasn’t really cramped, per se. He could sit up fully, though he wouldn’t be able to stand. The floor of it was big enough that he could sprawl out, at least.

“You’ll be staying in here until you learn to respect me,” he said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some servants to tend to.”

He turned on his heel, leaving Louie all alone in the cage.

He put all of his strength into fighting against the bars, but for the life of him, they wouldn’t fucking budge. Shit.

When that didn’t work, he began to claw at his neck desperately in a poor attempt to get the newer band off. It was bad enough when it was just a bracelet, but now, with another piece of jewelry (this one seemingly functioning a little too much like a dog collar), it was only getting worse. And if the bracelet could prevent him from getting anywhere, who knew what this did?

He wasn’t making any progress.

“I hate only child day,” he declared to himself, trying to distract himself from his impending doom. “I’m never letting them do this again.” Assuming he had the chance to be angry with his brothers, that is.

No, no, he had to think positively. He was related to Scrooge McDuck! Not to mention his Uncle Donald. They wouldn’t let him rot here.

He hoped.

Some time later, Doofus returned.

Louie decided to try his luck one last time. “Please,” he said, “let me go. I just want to go home!”

“Oh, Llewellyn,” Doofus laughed, grabbing him by the tie and jerking him forward, his body slamming against the bars of the cage. He grinned darkly, taking another handful of the fabric in his fist until Louie couldn’t breathe.

He barely managed to get out a few choked sounds, unable to say anything coherent.

“You need to learn your place,” he said, in the type of condescending way you’d speak to a pet that tried to bite you.

Louie decided he didn’t like that analogy. “Please,” he choked, his voice so raspy it could barely be understood.

“I do like when you beg me, friend-present.”

If there had been any oxygen actually going to his brain, Louie would have been disgusted. But he couldn’t breathe, and his vision was going fuzzy, and he didn’t have the energy to think about how psychotic this kid was.

He needed to breathe.

With the hand that didn’t have a hellish bracelet stuck around it, he weakly reached up, trying to push Doofus away. It only served to choke him further.

“I don’t quite think you understand,” Doofus said, jerking him forward again, the little bit of slack he’d managed to acquire now only working against him. “I own you. I wanted you the moment I saw you, and as I’m sure you’ve noticed by now — I always get what I want.”

And with those words, Louie had a horrible feeling that his fate was sealed.

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whatistastyinbusan · 4 years

Text

artwork || j.jk oneshot

Pairing: singer! jungkook x artist! reader (gender-neutral)

Summary: in which y/n, an artist frustrated by the lack of inspiration in life, finds themselves some motivation in the form of jeon jungkook at a bar.

inspired by pied piper jungkook, joonpiter's edit of still with you - jk but it's open mic night at your local bar and you're falling in love with him

youtube

Word Count: 3.0k

Genre: Fluff

A/N: hi, sorry if this is annoying BUT one very important thing: before you read this, listen to the video linked above to set the mood (believe me, it does wonders) or listen to it while reading. Okay, now onto the one-shot!

_______________________________________________________

You could not see how coming to a bar would help you find the inspiration that you were so desperately trying to get a hold of.

It had been three weeks - three weeks - since you had even picked up a pencil and put it down on paper. Art, as it seemed to be, was your escape; a safe haven, a vent for emotions that when pent up led to nights full of tossing or turning and not a wink of sleep, a channel through which you could craft your thoughts, letting the pencil in your hand guide you on what to do.

But when picking up that same pencil led to nothing but scribbles and bunched up pieces of paper in the trash, thoughts and emotions tended to get a little overwhelming. By that, you meant that they would render you helpless as you felt like ripping out your hair in frustration or screaming until nothing but hoarse whispers would come out of your throat.

You'd spent hours scrolling through social media, trying to find something that would spark your interest, but at the end of the night, always came up empty-handed. That was your routine for the past two weeks. You had even attempted to go out for a day, visiting places like the city and the library and the small lake near your house, but it seemed like nothing was piquing your interest these days.

Everything was bland, flavourless. The sunset - that would usually make you take out your phone camera and capture its beauty so that you could use a paintbrush and transfer the beauty from a screen to paper, stroke by stroke - now didn't even manage to make you bat an eye. The little flowers that grew in the cracks on the sidewalk - the same ones that would make you crouch down and hastily draw on your hand so that you could go home and recreate them in a better fashion, would be crumpled beneath the soles of your shoes. The smiles of strangers - that would usually imprint themselves onto your mind, so that you could sit near the window at home and think about how happy they looked while you sketched every single line of their face onto some medium - would make you walk right by and become just a distant memory.

Against your better judgement, you reluctantly decided to consult your friends, sick and tired of mind blanks and art blocks, hands itching to dispel the thoughts inside your head, to tell the world about you. The answers you got were...very diverse, you could say.

You got all sorts of recommendations, ranging from bungee jumping to strip clubs (you had almost died of asphyxiation while the friend who recommended it was too busy laughing her head off).

And unfortunately, the least bizarre idea out of the lot was a bar.

You considered the option; really thought over it for a solid ten minutes. It would be a change to your daily routine, which might be the reason for your lack of inspiration. Seeing the same things every day may have just become too mundane for you. A bar, on the other hand, would be a nice addition of spice to your life. Not enough to completely shake you, like strip clubs, but enough to make sure you didn't die of being inspiration-less (you weren't sure if that was actually a word, but you couldn't care less at that point).

So that's how you found yourself, breathing shallow and nerves firing rapidly, outside a bar near your house.

You didn't want to be the centre of attention. God, no. You wanted to blend in enough to observe some people from afar (now that you realized, that sounded borderline creepy). You had your sketchbook tucked safely under your over-sized cardigan, hidden because who on earth brings a sketchbook to a bar? You mentally rehearsed your plan of action; enter and be as inconspicuous as you could, make a beeline for a seat hidden in the shadows of the room and not come out until inspiration had struck you.

Once you were confident that you weren't going to trip over your own two feet, you swung open the door and felt the warm air of the room hit you, a tingling sensation flooding over your body as it adjusted to the new temperature. You heard a bell chime overhead, signalling your arrival, so you booked it to a little table right at the back, partially obscured under the lighting of the room before anyone could actually spot you.

Murmurs of conversation happening around you reached your ears, but you were sure that all of your senses had just short-circuited, like some nerve in your body had just decided to disconnect itself, resulting in a numbing sensation.

But your senses couldn't have short-circuited, because your ears picked up something and you couldn't tell if you were still alive or had died and gone to heaven.

A voice. A heavenly, serene, soulful voice.

Your eyes travelled towards the dais towards the side of the bar and saw what you could only describe as a living masterpiece, right there, on the raised platform. Long fingers clasped the microphone stand as the boy, who looked no older than 24, swayed lightly with the music playing overhead. Black, wavy hair framed his face, partly covering his eyes, but you could see that they were closed, too engrossed in the song. He wore nothing but a patterned black long sleeve shirt, top few buttons undone with black tights.

Still with you.

Remember when you said that you wouldn't leave the bar until inspiration struck you? Yeah, well, it struck you like lightning.

Your whole body was in a trance, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't stop listening to his voice. It was so...so raw and so emotional, that you had almost forgotten about why you came there in the first place.

Whipping out your sketchbook from underneath your cardigan, you wasted no time in trying to capture the pure essence of the boy under the hanging lights of the bar. You had never thought that bar lighting could make someone look so ethereal.

With nothing but just his voice calming you - for all other conversations had died out to let his heartfelt voice float around the place - you worked. You worked so fast, afraid that the inspiration you had found so arduously would run away from you, just like everything else, and yet you worked so slowly and carefully, making sure that you could do the boy's beauty justice, although you doubted that was possible.

Najimagi deullineun i eeokeon soli igeolado eobseumyeon na jeongmal muneojil geos gata

It felt like nothing else existed, nothing else mattered, apart from the pencil and sketchbook in your hand, and the boy and his melodious voice up on the dais. You couldn't focus on the bursts of conversation around you, or the way your wrist was slightly hurting from the way you were sitting, but you couldn't care. Nothing else mattered at that moment.

You were convinced that if you weren't drawing, you would've walked up to the boy, his voice drawing you in like the lure of the pied piper's pipe. It managed to wrap around you, binding you to it, and slowly but steadily pulled you in, all the while murmuring sweet nothings right near the shell of your ear.

It was exhilarating, feeling the craving of rushing to finish something flood through every one of your veins, something that you had almost forgotten the feeling of. You were ever so thankful for the entity on the make-shift stage in front of you, because you were sure that if he hadn't come into your life with his voice, you would've slipped into an abyss, a void and would've failed to come out.

You couldn't tell if it was his voice or the bass reverberating off the walls, that shook you from the inside. For a minute, you had to pause, and had to breathe, letting the notes flood you and fill you, invading every single nook and corner of your being and healing it over. Ambrosia, that's what you would describe his voice and looks as. Sweet, sweet ambrosia. Never in your wildest dreams had you thought that a voice could make you feel complete.

Subconsciously, your foot tapped along with the slow but gripping beat, and occasionally your eyes would flick towards him, and would stay just a second too long.

jeo dari oerowo boyeoseo bamhaneure hwanhage ulgo issneun geot gataseo

And his eyes would meet yours, and stay for a second too long before he looked away and smiled at the audience, who remained awestruck by the blessing in the form of the gorgeous boy on stage, who seemed as if he belonged there, singing his heart out and baring himself for the whole world to see. You decided that his smile, the most radiant of all things; you wanted to pocket it. You wanted to pocket it and keep it safe, never wanting to let it die. Because just like your drawings, his smile held a thousand words. And you wanted to hear every single one of them while your pencil traced the curve of his lips and smile onto a piece of paper, making sure it would never turn upside down.

Four minutes.

Hwangholhaessdeon gieok soge na hollo chumeul chwodo biga naerijanha

That's how long the boy sang for. Every word that left his mouth rattled you from the inside, and yet calmed you like no other meditation technique.

Four minutes.

That's how long you drew for. An incomplete figure, a mess of lines and shading looked back at you from the paper, and fear gripped you like a cold heart.

You weren't going to let him get away. Not before you finished the drawing and pinned it with all your other ones, because that night; that night was like no other.

Never had you felt that way about a sunset, or a bunch of flowers, or a strangers's smile. But he, he made all your worries retreat into a dark corner of your mind with just a smile. And his voice, oh god, you could listen to it all day and all night and never get sick of it. It felt as if he would always be your inspiration, ever ready to help you be yourself.

That boy up on the stage, you thought, was one thing you were sure you would never get tired of seeing, never get tired of drawing because, dear god, did he look absolutely stunning standing there without a care in the world.

Once he drew out the last note, the bar erupted into claps and cheers and you stopped, eyes following his obsidian ones as they crinkled in delight. He bowed to everyone before speaking into the microphone, "Thank you. Thank you, guys."

And then he was stepping off the stage, still smiling and waving at the people who complimented him, and you found yourself walking towards him. You weren't one for confrontations, but you were willing to push aside your fear of socialising for him, just this once.

He noticed you walking towards him, and shook hands with the last person before turning to you.

The two of you stood in silence. Apparently, you had suddenly lost the ability to form a single coherent thought because oh God, he was even more beautiful from up close. Sharp collar bones peeked out from beneath the collar of his shirt, and you somehow missed the tattoos lining his right arm, which was scratching at the back of his neck nervously. You could see a little mole right there, on the tip of his nose, and one right beneath his bottom lip and another one-

"Can I help you?"

Your body jerked a little as you brought your eyes to look at his black ones, and your brain finally put together a sentence as you spoke, voice clearer than your thoughts, "Your voice...it's amazing." You really wanted to say how breathtakingly beautiful he was too, but you decided to hold that back.

He laughed, the apples of his cheeks dusted with light pink as he threw back his head and laughed. And you realised that his laugh was just as precious as his smile. You noticed that his nose scrunched up in the cutest way as he giggled, and his shoulders went up slightly too, as if he was curling into himself. "Thank you. That means a lot to me, coming from someone like you."

You stopped and stared at him. Did he just say what you think you said? No, you probably mishe-

"I feel like you're not done speaking yet," he said softly, and you exhaled deeply. You just hoped that what you were going to say wasn't going to weird him out.

"I...I may have been, um.." you started but trailed off almost immediately after. Get it together y/n, you're better than this.

You closed your eyes and inhaled, before breathing out, "I was, um, drawing you, while you were, uh, singing."

You peeled open your eyes to see him looking at you in...what was it? Shock? Surprise? Disgust?

"You...were drawing me?" he started, and god, you wished he wouldn't stare at you like that, like he was staring into your very soul and unpacking every single layer there was to you, pulling you apart bit by bit and then restoring your pieces with utmost care.

You nodded slightly, but before you could explain your intentions and assure him that you were no creep, he spoke again.

"Can I see it? Please?"

If anyone should know a fact about you, it would be that you are absolutely helpless against puppy eyes. And this guy, the oh so beautiful guy in front of you, was embodying that very look.

You coughed nervously, feeling your cheeks and neck heat up as a million thoughts raced through your head. What if he found it ugly? Or found that you hadn't completed it? Or found that you hadn't gotten his nose right? The possibilities were endless. But despite the thoughts zooming around that head of yours, you cleared your throat, slowly bringing up the unfinished drawing.

"It's not finished, which is why I wanted to...to talk to you." you licked your lips, finding them in an extremely dry state, just like your throat. Maybe you should've ordered a bottle of water.

You got no answer, your breathing stilling as you studied him, his pupils blown wide as he examined the rough sketch in front of him. You could see his eyes roam over every inch of the paper, and shivered, feeling as if he wasn't staring at the drawing, but at you instead.

"It's not-" you started.

"It's..it's heavenly." he breathed, bringing his eyes to look at you, and you could feel your heart melt underneath his soft gaze. You could practically feel the appreciation bouncing off the soft smile his lips held, and wondered how you could feel so loved, so worthy in the eyes of a complete stranger.

"I was wondering if," you broke off to take a deep breath, "I could possibly finish this drawing?"

You looked at him with hopeful eyes, and upon noticing the hesitation in his eyes hastily added, "only if you're okay with it, of course!" You were hoping with all of your willpower that he would agree, but you were respectful of his wishes. You had worked with all sorts of people in the past, and all you valued from those experiences was trust.

If he didn't trust you, then you couldn't draw him. Simple.

The same reluctance danced in his eyes for a minute more before being replaced with something else. Was it admiration? Or was it sympathy?

"I'll be more than happy to model for you," he said, lips stretching into the widest grin you had ever seen, and before you knew it, you were grinning just as hard too. Contagious. That's how you would describe his smile as. It infected you with happiness, lighting up your day like nothing else, embedding nothing but optimism into the dullness of your life.

And in a moment of tempestuous thoughts, you wondered what would it feel like to trace those lips with your fingers instead.

"Could I have your phone please?" he asked, holding out his hand as you passed it to him and for the briefest moment, in the midst of handing it over to him, your fingers brushed against his, and lingered for a while too long to be considered as nothing.

But you said nothing about it, and instead watched as he tapped at your screen with a small smile on his face before giving you back your phone.

He had fed his number into your phone, under the name of Jeon Jungkook with a bunny emoji next to it.

Fitting, you thought. He did remind you of a bunny.

You looked up at him, only to find him exiting the bar and climbing into a cab. And just before he climbed in, he looked back - right at you - and waved, before gesturing to call him later.

You stood in the middle of the floor at the bar, watching as the taxi pulled away, and pocketed your phone and walked out of the bar. You felt the cold air rush to prick at the bits of exposed skin near your neck and wrists, but you were too lost in thought to notice.

Jeon Jungkook, you decided, was an enigma; an artwork. A mystery with too many layers and too many twists. But Jeon Jungkook was also the simplest person you had ever encountered.

And as an artist, you were willing to tell the world about him, were willing to tell the world about Jeon Jungkook.

The boy so beautiful that he stole your heart without even knowing it.

_______________________________________________________

A/N: et voila, I have posted my very first one-shot! Don't forget to vote and tell me your thoughts or any feedback bcoz your support means the world to me. And last but not least, always remember that you are loved, valid and a beautiful person, inside and out. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise you precious hooman (or they can fight me)

p.s: tell me if you want a part 2 or if you have any other ideas that you might want me to write! :)

#jungkook #bts #fanfiction #romance #xreader #y/n #bts jungkook #oneshot #bts army #bar #artist au #singer au #bts fanfiction #new #fluff #jungkook x reader #uwu #cute #sweet oneshot

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dontasktheradiodemon · 4 years

Text

Reunion

After avoiding the hell out of each other for a week, Alastor and Sir Pentious finally meet to discuss the whole “I found out you like me and yelled at you until you cried” thing.

It’s very emotional.

To all of you that read the chat log last week and screamed: read this one and scream some more.

Alastor

Inside Rosie's Emporium, Alastor is frantically preparing for Sir Pentious's arrival, as he has been for the last few hours—he's showered *twice*—all while singing the most obnoxiously perky show tunes he can think of. He is NOT going to be a simpering emotional wreck this time. He intends to get through this meeting without breaking character; or if he fails, he's at least going to put it off as long as possible.

Outside the emporium, meanwhile, the door's locked and a sign in the window says "*CLOSED*" with a second, handwritten sign underneath reading "*Except for appointments. - R.D.*"

Sir Pentious

The appointed time had arrived. Sir Pentious slipped out of a portal created by his beloved, though she did not follow. This was something he'd be doing on his own, as it was between him and Al. It was funny to think about, wasn't it? That months ago, Sir Pentious would have loved to meet the other over *bitter* circumstances, to feel the rush of adrenaline coursing through him at the chance to confront his enemy.

But this was unlike anything he'd ever faced before. So used to breaking down everything he could get his hands on, the serpent wasn't prepared for how emotionally exhausting it was to... try to put the pieces back together, good as new. He could fix most *any* machine, but this? This was *harrowing.*

While Alastor was adamant about not losing character, Penley found it nigh impossible to stop his hands from *shaking.* He slithered up to the door, took hold of the knocker, and made his presence known. Tok. Tok. Tok. His body shook like an earthquake, and he quickly used his right hand to still his left, both of his hands now behind his back. He attempted to look *dignified*, but the look of anxious *dread* on his and Hatty's faces was unmistakably present.

Valera's words repeat in his head. *You could fumble and fail a thousand times, but you're still trying and I still love you with all my hearts.* Yes... he was trying. All he could do was try.

Alastor

Right! There was the knock. Show time. Alastor had barely had enough time to find a seat to perch on near the front of the empty store before he was leaping back to his feet and swinging the door open. "*Hel—!"

He wasn't ready for the gut punch of seeing Sir Pentious's face again—especially seeing him looking so downright miserable. "...-lo."

*AHEM.* Switch stations. "Right on time, do come in!" He stepped aside, ushering Sir Pentious inside. "We have the place to ourselves, Rosie was kind enough to agree to take care of some business out on the town. Door in the back left, the one that says 'staff only'—I know I said not to expect food, but Rosie, it turns out, actually *does* know how to prepare tea, so I've got a table set in her parlor with a pot and a few little snacks—you know, in case we need to cover any awkward silences, haha!"

He sounded like himself. But he hadn't looked at Sir Pentious since that first moment, his gaze instead across the store at the door in the back he'd indicated.

Sir Pentious

.... Oh... *Oh.* Oh this felt,.. wrong. Sir Pentious kept his hands behind his back, the hand holding the other by the wrist squeezing it tight enough to cut off blood flow. Alastor talking in that usual way of his, but it just twisted and turned his stomach. "R--RIGHT. OF-- OF COURSE." he replied, slithering into the store, toward where the deerman had gestured.

His brain was already screaming for him to get out of there, this was awful! This was AWFUL. Get out get out get out GET OUT--No no, no. Don't do that. Don't make it worse than you already have. Stay here, you can do *at least that much.* His throat felt *itchy* and he wanted to *scratch* at it, but no! No he must try to look dignified! His face just barely manages to look only mildly concerned, but Hatty, Oh Hatty... Never before had there been a chapeau *so* stressed out--expression looking borderline *sick* and instead of sitting tall, it was crinkled and somewhat mangled in appearance. Sir Pentious hadn't done that, at least not *intentionally.*

Alastor

Alastor inwardly cringed at the way Sir Pentious stuttered. It wasn't like him. Alastor was still firmly avoiding eye contact, and that meant *all* eyes—but it was safe to say that on the inside he was making about the same face the hat was.

There, a modest little table in a charming little Edwardian parlor, set for tea as promised with a few pastries Alastor had managed to scare up that he thought were soft enough for Sir Pentious's tastes. "Sit where you'd like," Alastor said. "I mean—I know there's only two seats, hah—unless you want to sit on the divan over there or something—hard to reach the tea, though—well, you know what I mean!" A gesture at the table.

Sir Pentious

"... ACTUALLY, I DON'T. THINK I COULD SSSIT. RIGHT NOW..." If he sat down, then, he wouldn't be able to keep his hands behind his back, without looking like he was tied up or something. He *winces* at the sound of his own voice, and tilts his head, craning his neck uncomfortably...

"ALASSTOR." Oh, he felt sick. That letter from Alastor had been so *short*, and, now he wasn't really even looking at him at all. Just hearing the demon's voice after an entire week of *not...!* He took in a sharp, shaky breath.

Alastor

Alastor hesitated, then nodded sharply. "You're going to make me look like a bad host." He laughed nervously. "Not—well—not that anyone else is going to see, but..."

He flinched at the sound of his name. "Sir Pentious." He clasped his own shaking hands behind his back and straightened his posture.

Sir Pentious

Look at them--both standing in just the same way. Hands tightly clasped behind their backs, their postures straight, foolish old men attempting to appear dignified as their hearts sank and drowned. Sir Pentious had to say something, *had* to... do something... but his mind was running blank. He... looked, glanced-- toward Alastor, and his eyes settled on where he'd bitten before, wincing.

"... ..does it hurt?" Oh, that's a pathetically quiet sound for a gentleman to make, shame on you, Sir.

Alastor

Stubbornly avoiding eye contact like he was, it did not occur to Alastor that Sir Pentious was talking about the bite. He made a garbled noise of surprise. "Uh, *well*—I mean—jumping right into it, aren't we?—it hurts about as much as you'd expect it to hurt a week after your best friend said he'll hate you if he sees your face again!" A strained laugh. "But enough about me! Here I am playing host and I'm letting my guest ask all the questions. On a scale from 1 to 10, how much pain are *you* in?"

Sir Pentious

He *flinches*, badly. His teeth *grit* as he grimaces from the strain of having to *restrain* himself, keep himself from having immediate reactions--bad ones. Don't make any stressed snake sounds, don't do anything WEIRD, don't DON'T *DON'T* make him hate you more. He's digging his talons into his hand so tight now that he can feel warmth run down his palm.

"W-... I--..!" He can't get anything out, again. Showing this side of him, he feels *shame* course through him once more. No, don't rely on the man you *bit to shreds* just for trying to help you. Just for loving you. What a **piece of** ***shit you are, Pentious.*** Deep, deep breath. Slow inhale, fill those powerful lungs of yours... and exhale. You're alright. You're alright.

"... AN ELEVEN, OR A TWELVE. I AM SSSSORRY.... YOU *DID* READ MY LETTER, CORRECT...?"

Alastor

He hates hearing Sir Pentious's stop and start, hates hearing his voice drop so soft. Hates that *eleven or twelve.*

"I—yes. Of course. The moment I got it. Several times." Alastor swallows hard. "There's really no call for a... Eleven's a bit... You really shouldn't have to go past a five. Six tops."

Sir Pentious

"I SHOULDN'T HAVE *HURT YOU,* IS WHAT I *SHOULDN'T* HAVE DONE. NEVER MIND THE IRRELEVANCIESSS OF *NUMBERSSSS.*" He turned his head to and fro, more exaggerated than necessary with that long neck of his--he refused to bring his hands out, even if it looked RIDICULOUS at this point to maintain such a stance.

Alastor

His immediate instinct was to try to excuse it, to say that maybe Sir Pentious shouldn't have, but on the other hand Alastor shouldn't have— But Alastor wasn't in the wrong, he reminded himself. He wasn't in the wrong to feel something he couldn't control, and he wasn't wrong to try to keep that to himself.

He was, perhaps, wrong to make friends in spite of all that—but he'd been invited to, hadn't he?

"No," he conceded, looking at his shoes. "You shouldn't have."

Sir Pentious

He wasn't sure if it was relief slipped down his throat, dragging a knife the entire way down. That's.... not what relief is supposed to feel like, right? It was probably guilt. Intense guilt--he was glad that Alastor wasn't making excuses for him or blaming himself, but oh, did he continue to feel shame. It wasn't going to go away. It wouldn't ever go away.

It was getting hard to keep his hands behind his back, and he smeared the blood between his palms. "... A-AGREED... INDEED..." Usually so wordy, he was... failing. Failing to speak.... Say something *else*, you GODDAMN FOOL. "... I... LETTERSS CAN BE... SS-SO IM*PERSSSONAL*, YOU KNOW, BUT, I DID NOT WANT TO... *IMPOSE* AFTER THE MESSS I MADE OF THINGSSS...." He gestures to his head, then a few vague gesturing at... between them... and then immediately remembers his hands should be behind him, so back they go, flicking a bit of blood and immediately COVERING it with his tail. Nope.

"SS...SSSO I SSSENT THE LETTER, FIRSSSST. I WANTED YOU TO KNOW, ALASSSTOR, THAT I'M SSSO DEEPLY SSSORRY FOR THE WAY I ACTED, HOW I... *RE*ACTED TO YOUR WORDSSS. IT WAS OUTRIGHT FOOLISH AND NONSSSSENSSSICAL..."

Alastor

Alastor was sure he saw *something* drop down, but when he glanced over Sir Pentious had shifted his tail. Alastor glanced up at Sir Pentious—for the first time since opening the door—faintly worried, but he wasn't sure of what.

"They can be," he agreed, looking away again. "Very, *very* impersonal. Even if the words are all there, you can never quite tell if it was... crafted to be that way." He took a deep breath. "For what it's worth, I've been here *waiting* for you to impose—as soon as you could stand the sight of my face again." He huffed. "Bad joke. Sorry. Shouldn't have, not the time. Couldn't resist."

He wasn't ready to touch that apology quite yet. It felt like claws on his skin, although he wasn't sure why. Not clawing like some wild beast was cutting him up. More like some drowning creature was trying to scrabble up to safety.

Sir Pentious

The implication that he was just crafting them--just so, as if he was making it up! He... turned his face away, tongue hanging as he felt the stress wringing his chest. The length of time his tongue spends in his mouth is now shorter than the amount it's out! Another bout of harsh words-- he deserves much worse.

Maybe if Alastor could just. Cut him apart, it would feel better. He deserved that much, right? If someone had done what he did to Alastor.... to him? Why, they wouldn't be allowed to leave! He'd rip them apart!!!

... Tear them with his teeth. He makes a *sound*, a choked little whine, that he immediately slaps a hand over his mouth for. Shut *UP!* This isn't ABOUT YOU. You have to WORK HARDER, Pentious. You're NOT doing a good job, you're not even doing a SATISFACTORY job. He straightens himself up, more, but doesn't move his hand--his palm was warm, and he realizes what he just did. Ugh. Time to talk through the hand on his mouth.

"I DON'T HATE YOU-- I DON'T. I'M... SSSORRY." Sorry tasted disgusting in his mouth, like excuses. *Excuses.* "IT WAS... CRUEL. UNNECESSsssssARILY. EVERYTHING I SSSAID WAS.SS... I JUSSST... I NEEDED SSSSPACE TO THINK AND...." I'm too fucking honest for my own fucking good.

Alastor

Alastor immediately looked up when Sir Pentious covered his mouth. It took longer this time for him to drag his eyes away. God, that look on Sir Pentious's face.

And it was there because of Alastor. It made him feel sick.

"I know you're sorry," he said. "I'd... say I forgive you, but—hah—I *tried* to resent you and couldn't quite manage it, so I guess I don't need to forgive you. So instead I'll say I..."

*I accept your apology.* But he couldn't quite get the words out. Sir Pentious had insisted so often that he always wanted Alastor to give it to him straight, that now Alastor couldn't quite bring himself to do otherwise.

So instead he said, softer than he meant, "I *want* to accept." He cast a forlorn look at the table he'd set out. "Could we *please* sit? I feel ridiculous, standing next to a bunch of perfectly good chairs."

Sir Pentious

They both felt mutually sick, and Penny regarded the chairs like they were death traps. When he felt this stressed out, *sitting* was the last thing he wanted to do... But who cares about what he wants? Didn't he do enough selfish things?

Pentious swallows down the sick tasting lump in his throat as he moves to, well, attempt to sit. Slip in, bend tail like *so*.... There. Sitting, like a real person!

And keeping his hand to his mouth because he knows if he pulls it away, he'll have blood on his face. Stupid.

"YOU... *WANT* TO, BUT, YOU CANNOT, I PRESUME?" Ahh. Acid.

Alastor

He sat, dropped his elbows on the table, laced his hands, and hunched his shoulders. "I don't *know* if I can," he said. "The thing is—Here's the thing—How do I know it's over? If my... If all this is so upsetting to you, then—well, you're acting quite the gentleman *now,* which I do appreciate, but how do I know..."

He couldn't quite get it out. He wasn't playing the right character to say these kinds of things. He swallowed hard and fiddled with his monocle. "How long until there's a repeat performance?"

Sir Pentious

... Oh no. Oh, God. This was the exact thing he was petrified of, he'd confessed to Valera countless times about how he's unable to predict his psychosis, how he's unable to stop when it starts, and how he can't promise they'll never happen again..

Valera always reassured him, but here he was being asked the very question that shook him so badly. He makes a pitiful stuttering sound, like a laugh meeting a sob, and he turns his head away, reaching for a tissue or something to wipe up the drying blood on his face.

"I-- I.. I can't. I can't prOMISSSE ANYTHING B, BECAUSE I DON'T. I DON'T *KNOW.* I... I. THESE... THESE MOMENTSSSS JUSSST HIT AND, and. AND IT'SSSS LIKE I'M DOING ANYTHING I CAN JUSSST TO *HOLD ON.*" How could they stay with this neurotic fool indeed? Look at how *unpredictable* he is. Not an ounce of reliability.

Alastor

His heart plummeted at the sound of the sob/laugh. Sir Pentious's answer didn't do anything to lift it back up—but the answer didn't push it any deeper, either.

Alastor leaned more heavily on the table, staring down at an empty teacup as he turned that over in his mind. "And I appreciate knowing that," he said. "But, I meant... If you explode at me over something different, okay, we'll deal with that then, but..."

He fell silent again. Dead air hummed loudly for a moment. "How much do you hate... *this?* Specifically? Are you going to be... courteously swallowing your distaste every time we interact, until it builds up and bursts out again? Is this going to irritate your mind every time you look at me?"

Sir Pentious

His eyes widen, and he *slammed* his hands down on the table, quite suddenly--harder than he'd intended, but too late.

"NO! NO, I-- IT *DOESN'T* IRRITATE ME, IT. I DON'T. I REALLY *DON'T CARE* ABOUT IT!! I HAVE *QUESTIONSSSSS*, CERTAINLY, BUT I'M NOT IRRITATED, AND, AND I DON'T HATE THE SSSSIGHT OF YOU."

Alastor

He sat bolt upright when Sir Pentious slammed his hands down—and then froze there, back rigid, staring at him. “Really?” he asked, quietly.

*I don’t care* was the best option he could have hoped for. (Second best option. *Best* option was “I thought it over and realized I feel the same—“ But second best was pretty good and much more realistic.) Apathy was far better than mere tolerance—tolerance would mean it was still a negative, but one Sir Pentious could put up with, as long as it didn’t become too much. Apathy meant it wasn’t even a negative—it was a neutral. It should have been a huge weight off Alastor’s shoulders.

But it wasn’t. The weight on his shoulders had claws and was digging in hard. “You’re *sure?* Because, you... certainly seemed irritated at the time.”

Sir Pentious

He winces when he startles the other, and his tongue flicks--more like hangs out--for longer. Stressed.

Sir Pentious slides his hand over his hood, looking away as his other hand drums against the table.

"THAT WASS. I. I DON'T. *KNOW* WHY I GOT SSSO UPSSSSET. I... *TRIED* TO SSSSTOP MYSSSSELF, BUT I COULDN'T WIN AGAINSSSST THE ACID MELTING MY MIND. IT, IT WAS UNCERTAINTY, PERHAPSSSS? FEAR... FEAR OF..." Losing this. "CHANGE! AND... I DIDN'T WANT THINGSSSSS TO CHANGE, AND, I, DON'T LIKE IT WHEN THINGSSSS ARE HIDDEN FROM ME, SSSSO I... I PANICKED AND LASHED OUT, AS I AM WONT TO *DO*..."

He wants to take Alastor's hands, hold them in his and *ask* him to believe him. It sounded like a TERRIBLE answer, all things considered. What kind of answer was 'I don't know why I did that?' But it was the only one he could muster. Speculation about why he felt that way was the best he could do.

Alastor

It *was* a terrible answer. It was about as godawful an answer as Alastor could think of. But Sir Pentious was also a pretty terrible liar. If he said he didn’t know why he was upset—then he probably really, truly didn’t.

Which wasn’t much comfort. It meant they didn’t know for sure what set it off. But there were much worse answers he could have given.

“Well,” he sighed deeply, “I didn’t want things to change, either. Just one of many reasons why I didn’t say anything. At least we’re on the same page.” He paused a moment, then asked, “So, that’s... what a full-blown ‘acid blood’ incident is like, is it?”

Sir Pentious

He sighed as well, perhaps just as deeply, and began to play with a tea cup.

"YESSS. VALERA HASS EXPERIENCE WITH THEM, BUT I AM ASHAMED YOU HAD TO BE AS WELL. I CANNOT CONTROL THEM, A GREAT SHAME OF MINE. I FEEL LIKE RIPPING AND TEARING THROUGH MYSSSSELF IS THE ONLY WAY TO COOL THE BURNING, AND I EVEN LOSE THE ABILITY TO SSSPEAK, BUT THE *MADNESS* IS SSSTILL THERE..."

Alastor

He noted Sir Pentious playing with the cup, and lifted the tea pot an inch or so. Want some?

“You know, you mentioned the acid in your veins, the clawing at yourself, and the disconnected feeling—but I think you forgot to mention the part where you verbally assault whoever’s talking to you.” A rueful laugh. “See, that—that would have been a good one to know. Otherwise, it sounds an awful lot like you mean it.”

His stomach twisted. He was dancing on the edge of a question that had been plaguing him since he received Sir Pentious’s letter, so... “How much of it *did* you mean?” It would be all too easy if every word out of Sir Pentious’s mouth had simply been whatever, in that moment, he thought would hurt the most. He couldn’t shake the fear that *some* of it was sincere, just typically buried too deep for Sir Pentious to share.

Sir Pentious

He deserved that laugh. He deserved far worse than that, but it still made him *flinch* again. Had he neglected that part? Sir Pentious made a face, extremely uncomfortable, and his shoulders hunched as he dropped the tea cup back onto its saucer. No, no tea right now.

"I... I *didn't mean it.* I didn't mean any of it." What an easy answer, Penny! You *disease.* He rakes his claws over his hood, taking in another breath.

"I just. I grab anything I can to make it hurt. It'sssss shameful. I know, I know. I'm *ssssorry*. I wish I hadn't sssaid a thing."

Alastor

All right, no tea. Alastor poured himself a cup instead.

Then stared at it. Why did he do that, he doesn’t like tea.

So. Sir Pentious meant none of it. Not a word. Alastor nodded, finally feeling that heavy weight on his shoulders start to tug its claws out of his tense muscles.

It was difficult to believe—he wasn’t quite sure it wasn’t just what Sir Pentious himself wanted to believe. Some of the words—“*I let you* touch *me!” “How could I set limits?” “If you hadn’t* fucked things up *back then*”—it was hard to imagine they weren’t sincere when the accusations were true. But if Sir Pentious himself didn’t think they were...

“Okay.” He nodded. “That’s good. All good news, right? No big rifts here.” He offered an encouraging smile.

Sir Pentious

Questions muddled into lashing out... He shouldn't have screamed at him, he shouldn't have. He would much rather have asked questions, calmly! Like a proper gentleman. Like a *good friend.* But he wasn't a good friend.

And seeing that encouraging smile finally snapped the string trying to hold everything together. Sir Pentious put his face in his hands, and his shoulders shook, trying to keep himself *silent* as tears slipped down his wrists, some going into his sleeves, others dripping onto the table.

"I-- I'm sss-ssorry, my friend! I'm *trying*. I am, I *am.*" A harsh whisper, as quiet as he could speak.

Alastor

“N—!” Alastor automatically reached across the table, stopped with his hand halfway to Sir Pentious, and pulled it back to set on the table on his side of the tea pot. “I—come now, you’re doing just fine.” His claws dug into the tabletop. He wanted so much to take Sir Pentious’s hands. God, he couldn’t do that now.

So instead, he pulled out Sir Pentious’s freshly washed handkerchief and offered it to him.

Sir Pentious

His fists pressed against his eyes, and he grit his teeth, trying so hard to get a hold of himself. Stop crying, haven't you cried enough? You really are wrong in the head, Sir Pentious.

His hands finally pull down, and he takes deep, deep breaths, like he hasn't breathed in a while. It's okay, you're okay, you're okay.

The handkerchief--he remembers his teeth shredding Alastor's shoulder, and all he did was give him a *handkerchief* for it, and some awfully *short* words. How his chest ached now, and he felt *sick* and *vile.* Penny moved to take the handkerchief, hovered over it, then put his hand down on *top* of Alastor's, with the cloth serving as a barrier between.

"I don't... Undersssstand why you both put up with me. If I were treated as I treated you, I would have plotted REVENGE. I would have sssssought out the perpetrator, and put a BULLET in his BRAIN. I would have FED him his own INTEssssSTINAL TRACT! And yet, you're. Not doing that to me. And. I don't know why. I've. I'm not *good* at this, I've never had *friendssss* before."

Alastor

Alastor’s hand flinched when Sir Pentious’s settles on top of it, but then he freezes, not pulling back. The cloth was only a symbolic barrier at best—with both of them wearing gloves, he couldn’t even feel the handkerchief in between. It felt like any other time they’d touched. It was too much.

He held still anyway.

“I save the intestine-feeding for people who did it on purpose. And also for people I’m not quite so—“ *fond of,* he wanted to finish, but the word “fond” also felt like *too much,* implying things far larger than he wanted to say; “—don’t get along with so well.”

Sir Pentious

Slowly.... He pulls the handkerchief back, and his hand with it.

"*Got* along with. I *fucked* that one up." He brought the cloth to his eyes, dabbing away tears. "I CANNOT IMAGINE *WANTING* TO BE IN MY PRESENCE AFTER THAT SSSHITSHOW. YOU CONFIDED IN ME, AND I RIPPED YOU APART WITH THOSE SSSSAME WORDSSSS! WHAT A *SSSSNAKE* I AM." A bitter laugh, all the while he spoke his other hand is digging into the table, splintering it somewhat. Sorry Rosie.

Alastor

He held still long enough to be polite, then snatched his hand back like he’d touched a hot stove.

“To be fair, I wouldn’t really say I *confided*,” Alastor muttered, then cleared his throat and turned his volume back up. “You say ‘got along with’ like we’re not going to get along anymore! I’d say we’re getting along right now.”

Sir Pentious

"YOU CALL THISSSS GREAT?? I'VE NEVER BEEN MORE *TENSSSSSE.*" He shudders, clasping his hand together and rubbing his face up and down his forearms.

"I DON'T... *WANT* TO BE A *FOOL* AND *MISSSSSPEAK!* BUT I CAN'T... GET MY THOUGHTSSSSS OUT. WHEN IS IT A GOOD TIME? IS IT NOW? IF I'VE LEFT ANY *MESSAGE*, IT'SSSS LIKELY 'DON'T SAY ANYTHING OR THE INSANE SNAKE DEMON IS GOING TO YELL AT YOU, BITE YOU AND TELL YOU IT'S YOUR FAULT!'"

Alastor

Wryly, Alastor said, “Actually, the message I’m picking up is ‘if the snake demon yells at you and bites you, don’t take it personally because he probably didn’t mean it.’” He leaned halfway across the table, supporting himself with his elbows. “Listen to me. I’m not grading you on your eloquence. I’m the professional public speaker here, not you. You’ve apologized about three hundred times and you’ve issued a retraction for every thing you said, that’s what matters. Take a couple of deep breaths and shake out those shoulders, alright?”

Sir Pentious

With Alastor leaning across the table like that, Sir Pentious swallowed hard.... And did as he was told, closing all of his eyes so he could breathe in deeply, exhaling through his grit teeth. Repeating this a few more times, never knowing how much was enough as thoughts pooled and splattered across the sharp shoreline of his mind.

He was still tense, but, there was a reassurance than he wasn't on trial here. Speak, Sir Pentious.

"I... SSSOME OF THE THINGSSSS I SSSAID SHOULD HAVE BEEN WORDED AS *QUESTIONSSSSS* RATHER THAN WHAT I TURNED THEM INTO.... BECAUSE TRUTH BE TOLD, MY REASONSSS FOR TOUCHING YOU, FOR HOLDING YOU, WERE SOLELY PLATONIC. IN MY DAY, THISSS WAS MORE ACCEPTABLE BETWEEN MEN.... KNOWING NOW THAT YOU FELT MUCH MORE *ROMANTICALLY* INCLINED TOWARD ME, IT DOES *SHAKE* ME. NOT OUT OF... OUT OF *DISGUST*, BUT RATHER!" He sighs, rubbing his temples. "I WASS JUSSST *HURTING* YOU DEEPER, WASN'T I? AND INVITING YOU FOR MOVIES WITH MY WIFE, IT. I. DIDN'T WANT TO *HURT* YOU LIKE THAT! I'M FRUSSSSTRATED, OF COURSE, BUT I'M NOT... *DISSSSGUSTED.*"

Alastor

Oh, here it was, the part Alastor had been dreading. His gaze dropped to his teacup. He made a very determined (and nearly successful) effort not to wince when Sir Pentious said “romantically.”

He was silent a moment after he listened to Sir Pentious speak; then clucked his tongue critically. “You must think I’m either dumb or deluded, if you think I need to be *told* that it was all platonic on your end.” He shook his head. “It was the same in my day. I didn’t start seeing it change until I’d been in Hell, oh... a couple of decades, maybe?” He’d liked the change, actually. He’d hated that people had previously thought that being pals with him a year or two gave them the right to touch him. In life he’d posed for pictures with others’ arms around his back and others’ legs crossing his legs, his shoulders and abdomen and smile held painfully stiff as he fought the urge to recoil. “What makes you think all that was hurting me?”

Touching, that that was Sir Pentious’s main concern. If it wasn’t just the one concern he thought was gentlemanly enough to share.

Sir Pentious

"I DON'T THINK *EITHER*, I AM JUST TRYING TO--" His hands close into fists and then open again, irritation on his face. Deep breath. Slow exhale. "I AM SSSIMPLY TRYING TO EXPLAIN MY THOUGHT PROCESSESSS. *PLEASE*, BE *PATIENT.*" He'd no right to ask, of course, but he was trying so hard. He didn't like being touched either--at least, from people he didn't know well. And that was most of everyone. It was fine from his ex-wife, but that was different! That was *expected*, and even then, he still found himself flinching at times with her touch. Generally speaking, when it came to being touched or grabbed, Sir Pentious wanted nothing to do with it-- but! With Valera and Alastor, he found he missed it when it wasn't happening.

"YOU DIDN'T THINK IT CAME ACROSS AS... AS RUBBING IT IN YOUR FACE??? I DON'T KNOW. I WOULD THINK SSSO, IF I WERE IN YOUR SHOESSS... I THINK!" Of course, he wouldn't willingly spend time with someone he was crushing on if they were with their partner. That would be needless heart ache.

Alastor

All right, all right, patience. He nodded.

“Of course not! You can’t rub something in someone’s face without malice, can you? Malice and intent.”

Sir Pentious

His head tilts to the side, and he's back to rubbing his face against his forearms...

"WELL, IF IT *ISSSN'T* A PROBLEM... THEN I SSSUPPOSE I WILL TRY NOT TO OVERTHINK IT. I'VE... WELL I. I WOULD LIKE... TO HOLD YOUR HANDSS AGAIN, AND. MAYBE HANG OUT AGAIN... BUT. ONLY IF YOU'LL HAVE ME."

Alastor

The way that was phrased made something inside Alastor try to expand, and made something surrounding it try to shrivel up and contract. Every word prickled him more deeply than it should, every nerve ending was raw. Secrecy had been a well-padded shield, muffling all the impacts; he missed it.

He nodded. “Of course.” The words came out slightly static-strangled. He wanted to say more, but couldn’t think of anything else to add that didn’t sound like *too much,* that wouldn’t now be laden with double meanings he didn’t want them to have.

Sir Pentious

... Was that it? Sir Pentious looked to his friend, his eyes wide, pupils expanded more than usual, his brow creased with anxiety... and Hatty looked about the same. Just words alone now felt... impersonal. He wished he could feel proud and confident that things would be okay. Wishes that he could saunter out of this store and snap his fingers for a portal, adjust his bowtie with a sm--

The bowtie. He starts patting down his jacket, before reaching inside and... taking out the yellow-middled bowtie, placing it on the table. "DO.. DO YOU SSTILL WANT IT...? I'D LIKE YOU TO HAVE IT, I... HAVEN'T TAKEN OFF YOURSSS."

Alastor

He stared dismally at the bow tie. Yes, he wanted it. God, he wanted it. But just the *thought* of reaching for it made him nauseous with anxiety—he hated this feeling, it wasn’t like him, he shouldn’t be like this. He didn’t want it. He couldn’t touch it.

But Sir Pentious wanted Alastor to have it. He snatched it off the table—like ripping off a bandaid, it hurts less if you’re fast—and stuffed it in his pocket. “Thanks.” His throat was dry. He sipped from his cup.

Ugh. Tea.

Sir Pentious

The movement caused him to wince more, and ... Sir Pentious found that he'd hit his limit on eye contact. He couldn't do it anymore, all of his eyes looking in every direction *except* for Alastor's. There, it was. Done. Right? It was done now? Things were supposed to be ... better... right? Why didn't they feel better? Why did everything feel just as bad, maybe if not worse than before?

He'd like to be with his wife right about now, curled up around her, safe and secure. Sir Pentious cleared his throat, feeling just as uncomfortable as before--maybe he should have some tea. There was food made, right? It would be ever so rude to just... leave. Right. Don't leave. Don't be *that guy.* He reached for the tea pot, to pour himself some tea.

"... I, UM. .. I MISSED YOU, ALASSSTOR."

Alastor

The words felt like a sledgehammer on his ribs. He nodded. “Yeah.” Oh, very eloquent, Mr. Professional Public Speaker, do a little better than that. “I—missed you, too.” *Every minute, every second—it’s the only thing I’ve been able to think about for a week—I’ve hardly slept in days—a couple of Rosie’s pillows are stuffed with more tears than down, I’ve probably done more crying in the last week than in the last forty years combined—* Too much, too much, too much. But he needed to say more. “A lot.” Even that was too much.

Sir Pentious

.... He... puts his hand out, resting it on the table for Alastor, talons open and doing their best to appear non-threatening. He, too, couldn't take his mind off of Alastor! He'd *tried* but the man was his best friend. Every time he saw something funny, saw something that reminded him of that grinning deerman, well, it just made his chest *ache.* Even the thought of *drinking* put Sir Pentious' mind into an uneasy state.

Alastor

His smile had remained impressively steadfast throughout the conversation, but when Sir Pentious offered his hand, it threatened to wilt, drooping at the corners. He couldn’t say no. Sir Pentious would think Alastor was rejecting *him.*

He slid one hand back to the edge of the table so that he could dig a sharp claw into his palm without Sir Pentious seeing, and with the other took Sir Pentious’s hand. His hand was trembling. There was nothing he could do about that now.

Sir Pentious

Well, you know. Alastor would be able to feel the way Penny's hand was trembling, too--he'd just about managed to get it under control, barely noticeable except in how it shook just below the surface. He couldn't disguise it anymore. He gave the other's hand a squeeze. "I'M... YOU MUSSST BE TIRED OF HEARING ME APOLOGIZE BY NOW, I MUSSST SSOUND LIKE A BROKEN RECORD. BUT I... DID YOU GET THE BITE LOOKED AT?"

Alastor

Well, great. At least they were in the same boat. Alastor’s hand was limp as Sir Pentious squeezed it.

“Yeah—yes. A couple of days after. I got one of the infernal demons to treat it. It’ll be fine.” His gaze was away from Sir Pentious, away from their hands, away from the table completely.

Sir Pentious

.... Actually. He wasn't that hungry after all. In fact, he felt sick, and it was getting worse. Probably... better to just. Leave after all. He... pulled his hand away, trying hard not to have a visceral reaction to the most awkward and ***stupid*** decision he'd made yet. Not very comforting at all are you, *snake.* Sir Pentious made to push his chair back, but... he stopped.

"... DO. WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO LEAVE, ALASSSTOR? GIVE, ERM. TIME. TO PROCESS? I'D RATHER NOT OUTSSSTAY MY WELCOME."

Alastor

He jerked his hand back the second it was free.

The *last* thing he wanted was for Sir Pentious to leave, but he couldn't possibly say that.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I'm sure this must be agony for you, putting up with all this. I'm sorry for the stupid..." He gestured at the teapot et al, then propped his chin in his hand to gaze forlornly down at the table. "I won't make you stay."

Sir Pentious

Frustration was bubbling, *agonizingly* below the surface. He couldn't take this much more, but he didn't want to *yell* at the man. That was what got him in all this trouble in the FIRST goddamn place. He stood up, or at least, stopped sitting down awkwardly on that chair, and placed both hands firmly upon the table, hood raised only somewhat.

"ALASSSSTOR. PLEASE.... *PLEASE* TALK TO ME. IT'SSS NOT... IT'S NOT *PUTTING UP* WITH, NOT IF IT'SSS YOU. DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT I'M SAYING??? I WANT TO *TALK* TO YOU ABOUT THIS, I WANT TO COME TO SSSOME KIND OF UNDERSSSSTANDING, BUT... I *CAN'T* JUST DO IT ON MY OWN!"

Alastor

Alastor squeezed his eyes shut. He knew he was being insufferable—say something. "That's the thing. I'm happy to talk about anything else—but I don't want to talk about **IT.**" Hateful distortion emphasized the word. "I don't even like to *think* about it—I spend as much time as possible ignoring it. If there was any way for me to get rid of it, I *would.* Instead, I have to *deal* with it."

He forced his eyes open and looked up at Sir Pentious. "And now *you* have to deal with it. I hate that. I hate that you're *never* going to look at me again without *knowing.* I hate that I'll never be able to say anything again without my words being *filtered* through it!"

At some point in that speech he'd gotten to his feet. He shoved back his chair and started pacing irritably, chewing on one corner of his mouth to make sure his smile hadn't dropped.

Sir Pentious

When that distortion rung true, Sir Pentious knew that he was hearing something more honest. There was relief soaking at his brain, mixed with pins and needles. Hey, he could handle anger--frustration, irritation, the works! That was his bread and butter. The pacing, the rage. He knew it all well.

The serpent slithered out from the table, allowing himself a moment to stretch, at least somewhat--it wasn't of his arms or shoulders, it was mostly that he'd unconsciously coiled his tail so tightly he could barely feel it anymore. "SSSO *WHAT* IF I KNOW NOW! I ALREADY TOLD YOU I DON'T CARE, AND YOU TOLD *ME* THAT SSPENDING TIME WITH VALERA AND I WASN'T HURTING YOU, SSO I AM NO LONGER *AGITATED* ABOUT IT! I WANT TO SSSPEND TIME WITH YOU, I WANT TO RAISE *HELL* WITH YOU LIKE WE DISCUSSED! I WANT TO WATCH THOSE COWARDLY SSINNERSS RUN AND FLEE IN TERROR AT OUR COMBINED *MIGHT!*" His hands ball into fists as he digs his talons into his palms, "I WANT TO DO THOSE THINGSSS WITH YOU! WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT ME TO *SSSAY* ALASSSTOR?"

Alastor

"i don't kn—I want you to say—*nothing!* I want you to not know it! I want you to forget! *I want my secret back!*" He stopped pacing, pinching the bridge of his nose. "And I want... all that, too. Everything you said."

Sir Pentious

His mouth SHUTS, and. He stares at Alastor wide eyed. There's a look of hurt-- maybe he misunderstood the "I want you to say nothing", took it a bit too literally. What was he supposed to do? He couldn't just *unknow* something. His talons *flex*, feeling frustrated and helpless. Ineffectual. Useless.

Alastor

Sir Pentious had been quiet a moment too long. Alastor glanced over—oh. "No—sorry. I didn't mean *nothing* nothing. I don't want you to shut up. I like hearing you talk."

He flung up his hands in frustration. "There—you see? A week ago if I'd said that, it would be about *you*—'you're interesting, you're witty, you're a delight to listen to!' Now, when I say it, it... it just reflects on *me.*" He half sat on the edge of the table, shoulders slumping.

Sir Pentious

Penny thinks it over, rolling it around in his mind. He's making all kinds of thinking faces, the man's an open book of expression... all the while Hatty's keeping its eye on the deerman. "IT... DIDN'T SSSOUND BAD, TO ME.... NOT AT ALL."

Alastor

"Good." He crossed his arms tight and looked down at his feet. "But it felt rotten."

Sir Pentious

He felt a very sudden, and STRONG URGE to SHRUG his shoulders, but he *REFRAINED.* Not the time, not the time at all. What to do here? Usually, he could take Valera into his arms and hold her tight, and even before when Alastor had confided that realization of Hell wearing him down, he'd been able to just hold his hand and lie on the floor with him.

But here, well. He didn't know. So. He sat in his own coil and looked at the floor, too. "... WELL UM... I DON'T KNOW WHAT ELSE TO DO. I CAN'T REALLY JUSSSST... UNLEARN SOMETHING LIKE THAT, BUT, I DON'T THINK YOU BELIEVE ME WHEN I TELL YOU THAT IT DOES NOT BOTHER ME. THAT IT IS NOT SOMETHING THAT UPSETSSS ME. MY OWN PARANOIA AND MADNESS IS WHAT HURTS ME MOST, IT UNDOES ME AND EVERYTHING I WORK FOR, AT ALL TIMESSS... AND... AND IF YOU CAN SSSTILL WANT TO BE MY FRIEND, DESSSPITE THE UNCERTAINTY OF MY NEXT *PUTRID* MENTAL COLLAPSE, THEN... I'D WISH YOU'D BELIEVE *ME* WHEN I TELL YOU THAT HOW YOU FEEL ABOUT ME WILL NOT CHANGE ANYTHING, UNLESS YOU WANT IT TO."

Alastor

He shook his head immediately. "No—of course not, no. I don't want anything to change." He took a deep, shaky breath in, slowly let it out. White noise. "I know you can't unlearn it. I just... *wish.*" But what were wishes worth? Especially in Hell? "I... do believe that it doesn't bother you. At least right now. But it bothers *me.*"

Sir Pentious

"... WERE YOU SSSIMPLY HOPING THAT I'D NEVER FIND OUT? THAT... DOESN'T SEEM VERY FAIR TO ME." He rubs his arm, like he had any right to demand fairness, especially in hell.

Alastor

He winced. That was true. "I wanted to wait for a better time. When we'd known each other longer, or I could spin it as a positive. Maybe after I'd met another who felt the same and the first you had to hear about it was that I could channel all that *off* of you and onto another." He scoffed. What were the odds of that?

Sir Pentious

... He rubs his arm a little harder, sliding his claws along the fabric. "... IT... *IS* A POSITIVE, ISSN'T IT? I MEAN, THE THINGSSS YOU SAID AT THE TIME... THEY WERE GOOD THINGSSS. *I'M* THE PROBLEM HERE, MY BRAIN IS ALL WRONG, AFTER ALL. YOU TOLD ME THAT YOU ADORE ME, AND I INTERPRETED IT AS--- AS AN ATTACK." A sad chuckle, and he stares harder into the floor.

Alastor

"Is it?" He glanced cautiously at Sir Pentious. "I've been on the receiving end more than once, and it's never felt like a positive."

He winced at the word *adore.* "I'm quite sure I never told you that. You keep talking like I *confessed* something to you. I *didn't.* You asked me. I'm fairly certain I didn't even *confirm* the accusation, did I? Just declined to deny it." He shook his head. "You already see me differently. You're started putting words in my mouth."

Sir Pentious

--His hood flares up, and he feels a red hot *flash* of embarrassment course through him. "MUST I *DIRECTLY QUOTE YOU*, OR SSSOMETHING? I CANNOT REMEMBER IT *WORD FOR WORD*, BUT I KNOW WHAT YOU TOLD ME, AT LEAST THE SSSENTIMENT!!" Oop. Too late. He was already feeling a bit of rejection from that last sentence, and because of it, found himself withdrawing from the situation. Too much in a short time, Sir Pentious was nothing without his flashes of anger. "FINE, I WILL NO LONGER *ATTEMPT* TO RECALL IT! AS FAR AS I AM CONCERNED, YOU SSEE *YOURSSSELF* DIFFERENTLY, AND I HAVE BEEN TRYING TO TELL YOU THISSS ENTIRE GODDAMNED TIME THAT I DO NOT SSEEE YOU IN A DIFFERENT LIGHT! BUT I THINK WE'VE HIT AN IMPASSSSSE." A deep breath, he's not sure he can calm down, so he's going to TURN AWAY and fold his arms tight against his chest.

Alastor

Alastor cringed. His claws dug into the underside of the table he was leaning on. He stared at Sir Pentious's back, momentarily silent as he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. "I'm sorry. Look at us, you were so worried about misspeaking, and I'm the one who's said everything wrong." Deep, shaky breath in. "I'm... having trouble *not* seeing how you see me as different now."

Sir Pentious

".... YES, I *KNOW* ABOUT YOUR SSSECRET NOW, BUT SO WHAT! I AM A SSSSTUBBORN OLD MAN, ALASSSTOR. AND I'M NOT WILLING TO GIVE YOU UP, OVER SSSOMETHING LIKE THAT. YOU'RE SSSTILL THE SAME MAN YOU'VE ALWAYSSS BEEN, THIS ISSN'T ANYTHING *NEW* TO YOU, SSSO WHY SHOULD IT BE, TO ME???" He takes another few moments before wincing, "... IT ALMOST FEELSSS LIKE... YOU *WANT* ME TO DESPISE YOU FOR IT."

Alastor

He listened hard, trying to somehow absorb the words, trying to force himself to believe them. Something about them still rang hollow. But he could keep trying.

"Of course I don't," he said immediately; then stopped, double-checked his thoughts more carefully, and finally said again, "No. I don't want that. I just think you *should.*"

Sir Pentious

Sir Pentious turns around-- no... he ROUNDS on Alastor, slithering close *very* quickly. "YOU THINK I *SHOULD?!* WHY!?"

Alastor

"Because there's no second chances in Hell! I ruined what I had with one version of you, Hell isn't going to just—let me rummage through the parallel universes for another version of you that's more amenable to being friends! It feels like a trap. The only question is when is it going to be sprung?"

Sir Pentious

He looks hurt again, but quickly fights it back, moving CLOSER. "YOU DON'T *WANT* TO ME FRIENDSS, ISS THAT IT??? BECAUSE I DON'T THINK I SHOULD BE BLAMED FOR SSSOMETHING LIKE THAT-- I *LIKE* YOU, AND YOU HAVE YET TO ACTUALLY BETRAY *ME*, AND SSSSINCE I KNOW *YOU'RE NOT DUMB OR DELUDED*, YOU AREN'T GOING TO *DO THAT*, ALASSSTOR, SO--" He takes a breath, hands together, "GET THE *FUCK* OVER YOURSSSELF! I'M HERE BECAUSE I WANT TO FIX WHAT I'VE DONE, WHAT PART OF THAT FEELSSS LIKE A FUCKING TRAP!?"

Alastor

"*No,* that's not what I'm saying! Not you—!" He almost reached out, stopped, pulled his hand back. "Not you. I think *Hell* is setting the trap. For both of us. That's what Hell *does,* it *tortures* people. So here we are—waiting to find out what Hell's scheming for us. Why it allowed us to be friends. And I'm—afraid of finding out! I am." An edge of ferocity entered his voice: "But I'm *not* going to let go of you until Hell *makes* me."

Sir Pentious

This was the part where they'd HUG TIGHT like in the radio plays and movies. Hold tight for a few moments, laugh about it later. But! Holding was off limits--and Sir Pentious looked like a long noodle that didn't know what to do with himself, his tail slithering closer to Alastor, but stopping over and over until he was in this abysmal zig-zag pattern.

Alastor's last words get Sir Pentious' chest *aching*, and he GESTURES with his hands like *SO WHY ARE YOU FIGHTING ME ON THIS!?!*, but no words come out. He's just. SAT THERE, WITH HIS HANDS OUT, AND THE MOST *VAGGIE* LIKE DONE EXPRESSION....... and he FINALLY MANAGES to speak.

"ARE WE GOING TO HUG OR NOT!?"

Alastor

For a couple of seconds, Alastor waged an internal battle with himself.

It was a brutal battle. Hundreds died. Bodies littered the landscape as far as the eye could see. The soil in that region was permanently stained red from the sheer quantity of blood spilled. A battle to end all internal battles.

And then he darted across the space between them, pulled Sir Pentious into a rib-crushing hug, squeezed his eyes shut, and buried his face in Sir Pentious's shoulder.

Sir Pentious

He'd ALMOST expected Alastor to say *no* with the way he paused-- he was preparing for it, his hands slowly lowering, before he was quite SUDDENLY *CRASHED* INTO, letting out a YELP of surprise as he was pulled into the tightest hug he's received from Alastor *yet*-- and he didn't complain in the *least*, immediately throwing his arms around the deerman, his tail coiling around the both of these foolish old fools.

*THAT'S WHAT I THOUGHT.* is what he'd wanted to say, but... best to keep it in his head.

Alastor

Being hugged back was like an electric shock, jolting his system, making his skin prickle, and it was almost painful but it was such a relief.

He kept his eyes squeezed shut—no crying, no crying. He managed to get out a garbled apology, but that was it.

Sir Pentious

A hand moves to Al's head, kind of petting the ears. "SHHH. HONESTLY, I THINK WE'RE BOTH SSSICK OF THAT WORD...."

Alastor

A choked laugh. "I never want to hear or make another apology." Oh, that was nice. He tilted his head into it. Guilt was seething deep in his gut—*what gave him the right to something so nice?*—but for now he could swallow it down.

Sir Pentious

Penny *smiled*, after what felt like FOREVER without a grin. He put his chin on Alastor's head, settling into his coil with the other demon.

"THERE MUST BE ANOTHER WAY OF EXPRESSING SSSSUCH THINGSSSS. MAYBE WE OUGHT TO SSSSAY IT IN FRENCH! MY TEXTBOOK FRENCH AND YOUR BASSSTARD FRENCH, NYA HA HA!"

Alastor

"You can't call it that, I'm an actual bastard." He prodded Sir Pentious's back with one sharp claw. "Anyway, my French comes from an unbroken lineage of native French speakers. *You've* got the bastard French."

It felt far too soon for banter—but it was so much easier than ripping open his veins an inch at a time and spilling one drop of blood after another as he tried to figure out how much he needed to sacrifice before they could be *normal* again.

Sir Pentious

SNORT. "A LONG, *PROUD* LINEAGE! YOU'RE RIGHT, MY FAMILY IS ENGLISH AND AMERICAN! NOT A *HINT* OF FRENCH, I *SSSTOLE* MY WAY IN!" He beams.

Maybe it was too soon, maybe he was feeling lightheaded from the rush of emotions... But he had his buddy in his arms again. There wasn't awkward silence, it felt... *doable* again.

"I'VE MISSED YOU, SSO, SSO MUCH. IT'SSSS ONLY BEEN A *WEEK* AND YET... TORMENT."

Alastor

A lump threatened to form in his throat again. No, he was determined not to cry, he wouldn't.

"I—haven't been able to—think about anything else." *It felt like too much.* Sir Pentious said he didn't see Alastor differently—and Alastor didn't want to test how true those words were, but if he didn't take a leap of faith, he wouldn't be able to move at all. "I haven't even had an appetite; Rosie's nearly had to force-feed me."

Sir Pentious

Ohh God. His heart broke at that. He continues to pet those ears, rocking back and forth with Alastor in his arms.

"MM... I DIDN'T HAVE MUCH APPETITE EITHER. ALL I COULD THINK ABOUT WASS WRITING THE LETTER.... HAVEN'T BEEN ABLE TO USE MY *FANGSSSS* SSSINCE.... THEY JUST MAKE ME FEEL *SSSICK.*"

Alastor

Almost like dancing. He forced his muscles to relax so he could sway freely with Sir Pentious.

He swallowed down the urge to apologize for Sir Pentious’s fangs. “Is that why the letter ended up so...” Find a neutral way to put it. “... Effusive?”

Sir Pentious

Penny's breath shakes, and he gives a little laugh, rubbing at his eye.

"W-WELL.... I WANTED TO MAKE SURE YOU *KNEW*... AND.. I WASN'T *SURE* IF YOU EVER WANTED TO... *SSSSEE* MY FACE AGAIN..."

Alastor

“*Of course I did.* I told you where to find me and everything, didn’t I? How could I *not* want to?”

Sir Pentious

He sinks a little lower, silently gesturing to his own head.... Then awkwardly (though delicately) touching where he'd *bit*....

"Becaussse."

Alastor

There was a faint crinkle of a fresh bandage beneath Alastor’s clothing. “You bit me the first time we met, you didn’t hear me complain about that.”

He opened his eyes as a realization hit him. “Hold on. Let me—let me summarize this. Since our last meeting, you’ve been afraid that I wouldn’t want anything else to do with you—now that I know more about the things going on inside your head that you wish you could get rid of. And I’ve said it doesn’t make a difference to me, and you’ve got to take that on faith, but you, you can’t imagine how it could possibly be true. Is that a fair summary of your last week?”

Sir Pentious

Without mention of all the crying, yes. Sir Pentious nods his head, still not speaking much in case he starts blubbering.

Sniff. He rubs at his eye again.

Alastor

Alastor started laughing. A wheezy, pathetic, *relieved* laugh.

“Good *gracious,* look at the two of us.” He pulled back so he could make eye contact with Sir Pentious, eyes watery and smile shaky. “A *whole week* we’ve been avoiding each other, when we were both terrified of the *exact same thing!*”

Sir Pentious

Penny's eyes get bigger, and he leans back a little so he can make that eye contact--he was so much bigger after all.

"THE... *SSSAME* THING?"

Alastor

Alastor let out an amused huff. "I mean—isn't it?"

Sir Pentious

"... I... WELL, YES! I SSSSUPPOSE IT IS...." He attempts a smile, but boy, it's so much more wiggly this time.

... A little laugh.... "IT... ISSSS REALLY SSSSIMILAR, ACTUALLY..."

Alastor

“Hah! You see?” His grin widened, finally squeezing the first tears out of the corners of his eyes. “We really are a couple of old fools, aren’t we?”

Sir Pentious

Another little laugh, and his eyes squeeze shut, a *big* sniff as he tries to keep smiling but. He's getting into big blobby tears. You'd think after a week of this, he'd be too dehydrated.

"we-- we really are!"

Alastor

He lifted his heels and flung an arm around Sir Pentious’s neck to pull him down close enough to butt their foreheads together. “We’re going to be fine. Right?” he asked. “We’ll get over ourselves, and—and get along just *terrifically.* We’ll be fine.”

Sir Pentious

*Bonk*--it rattles his dehydrated brain somewhat, but his arms come around the deerman tighter. Big intakes of breath, he's trying to get ahold of himself... Being able to touch *really* makes a difference for him.

"WE'LL BE FINE, YESSSS... WE'LL BE FINE."

Alastor

“*Good.*” Now he was crying, too. Clearly he returned the hanky too soon. He dropped his face back to Sir Pentious’s shoulder.

Sir Pentious

Two old men, hugging tightly to one another and *crying.* Rosie, don't come in.

Alastor

She’d better not. Alastor planned on holding Sir Pentious either until he was told to get off or one of them fainted from dehydration.

Sir Pentious

After a while of hugging... Sir Pentious felt that maybe! It was time to go home to his wife. He'd love to stay, but actually, he wouldn't--he was *tired* and *sore* and *exhausted*............ he had his best friend again and would love to hang out properly! When he wasn't a mess. He began to uncoil... "ALASSSTOR, I SHOULD BE GOING, YOU KNOW... I'M VERY TIRED..."

Alastor

He clung tighter when Sir Pentious started to loosen—not yet, he hadn’t had enough yet—but reluctantly let go when Sir Pentious said he needed to leave.

He wanted to offer to let Sir Pentious rest here, if he was tired—but no, not appropriate. Absolutely not appropriate. Anyway, Alastor wasn’t much better; he was developing an impressive headache, himself. He wasn’t sure if it was from sleep deprivation or from crying his eyes out on Sir Pentious’s shoulder—

If *Alastor* had a dehydration headache, then Sir Pentious had to be even worse off, didn’t he? “Hold on,” he said firmly. He poured a cup from that long-neglected teapot and held it out to Sir Pentious. “You’ve been leaking like a faucet since you got here. I’m not letting you leave like this, you’ll shrivel up like a worm on the sidewalk. Drink.”

Sir Pentious

!! Oh... He takes the cup, somewhat less *hot* now.... but the care that Alastor showed him was most definitely *felt.* Sir Pentious nods his head, smiling as he drinks the tea down... ohhh. That felt good. Actually. He offers the cup forward...... A little bashfully. ... More please.

Alastor

Alastor just chugged his whole cup like he was taking a shot and was in the process of refilling it when Sir Pentious asked for more. “Another round for everyone, eh?” He refilled Sir Pentious’s cup, then held up his own. “Cheers.”

Sir Pentious

Penny smiles, into a toothy grin--and he snorts. "ALASSSTOR... DO YOU EVEN *LIKE* TEA?"

Alastor

“Hate it! But I’ve only got myself to blame, I’m the bad planner who only supplied us with tea, aren’t I?” He tossed back his second cup. Bleh.

But Sir Pentious was smiling again. Alastor hardly tasted the leaf juice.

Sir Pentious

COLD leaf juice. He cackles... A high pitched giggling. Down the hatch!

"YOU KNOW, I HAVEN'T EVEN BEEN ABLE TO *DRINK* ANYTHING BOOZY SINCE THISSSS ALL HAPPENED." A little bit of a sniff, "NOT THAT *ALCOHOL* REMINDSSS ME OF YOU, BUT RATHER... THE *COMRADESHIP* OF THE EVENT DOES...."

Alastor

“*Hah.* I haven’t been able to risk it.” A grimace. “When I’m drinking in a bad mood, it’s to skip over as much time as possible. I didn’t want to risk you coming over to be told that I was going to be unconscious for the next four days.”

Sir Pentious

"AH..." He nods his head and.... slithers around to put an arm around his friend's shoulders, nuzzling his cheek. Too much? DEAL! WITH IT!!!

Alastor

The cup is DOWN on the table and Alastor’s arms are AROUND Sir Pentious again and that’s THAT. There was no such thing as too much. He’d been snake deprived for half a century and after just a few scant months of getting a regular dosage of snake he’d suddenly plummeted into withdrawal by being forced to go cold turkey again. He was taking everything he was offered.

Sir Pentious

Prrrr...... You get terrible, horrible Cobra sounds. He's going to.... plant a kiss! To Alastor's forehead. It's such a kind, gentle gesture. A gesture of "I trust you and care about you." It didn't have to be romantic, it was friendly. Only three people have been bestowed Penley forehead kisses. Be elevated in status of the SOUL!

Alastor

He inhaled sharply with a quiet record scratch sound, eyes wide with shock. His forehead blazed around the kiss.

He'd been kissed there before, once, decades ago, so near the scar of the shot that killed him—just as gently, by nearly identical lips. For a moment, Alastor couldn't breathe.

Sir Pentious

Sir Pentious couldn't see his reaction, as he put his chin on Alastor's head, mindful of the antlers. Prrrr... He's going to lie down with him, tail coiling again. OH NO! Too bad looks like he's going to get a nap in anyway. Or at least just... lie here for a while.

Alastor

Alastor was fine with that, his legs sort of felt like jelly anyway. He slid down to the floor with Sir Pentious, leaning against him the whole way down.

Before he lay down completely, Alastor took one of Sir Pentious's hands and gave him a return kiss, just as lightly, on his knuckles. Like a layman offering reverence to a bishop, like a subject demonstrating fealty to his king. It could be a platonic gesture. It definitely *wasn't,* but it could be.

Sir Pentious

*Prrrr.* His tail slithers around underneath the both of them. A very comfortable, squishy mattress. He means only to rest his eyes... He can *finally* relax after all of this tenseness.

Alastor

And Alastor got a *purr.* Not discomfort, not defensiveness. Sir Pentious didn't recoil from him. His dead heart soared.

Quick rest, nap, thousand-year coma—Alastor was game for anything. His eyes slid shut as he relaxed on Sir Pentious's coils.

It was good to be home again.

#hissandvinegar #chat log

18 notes · View notes

deku-leaf · 4 years

Text

virus - part 3 - “it’s okay”

summary: after izuku is hit with a quirk that makes him feel really sick, todoroki takes care of him while learning how exactly to comfort another human being. in this chapter todoroki realizes, ‘oh, i’m extremely touch-starved’

warnings: fluff, whump, descriptions of illness

word count: 2,800 ( g o d )

author’s note: wow it took me months to finish this third part and it’s basically just a bunch of aimless fluff and whump and touch-starved todoroki, here take it

part 1, part 2

todoroki (3:07PM) Text me when you wake up.

midoriya (7:32PM) what year is it

todoroki (7:32PM) Good morning. Sleep well?

midoriya (7:33PM) mhm

todoroki (7:34PM) How are you feeling?

todoroki (7:37PM) I grabbed some dinner for you. It’s about time for your next dose of medication and you’ll need to eat with it.

Missed call: todoroki (7:40PM)

todoroki (7:46PM) Did you fall back asleep?

todoroki (7:55PM) Hello?

Shouto frowns at his phone as he exits the elevator on the second floor and steps through the hallway toward Midoriya’s room, dinner in hand. He doesn’t want to seem clingy, but he’s also never been responsible for a sick person’s well being before. It’s probably alright for him to be a little more intrusive than usual given their situation. He slides his phone into his pocket and knocks quietly on his friend’s door. There’s a barely audible grunt that comes from inside - Shouto takes that as invitation enough. He gently turns the knob and lets himself in, keeping the door open behind him to let some light into the otherwise dark room.

Shouto squints at the bed, and can just barely make out the shape of Midoriya’s body curled up on its side. His comforter and sheets have bunched up at the foot of the bed, and Midoriya is hugging his legs tightly with his knees pulled up to his chin.

“Midoriya?” Shouto whispers, approaching his friend’s bedside. “Are you awake?” He places his hand on Midoriya’s shoulder to rouse him.

Midoriya is shivering, his eyes shut tight and his jaw rigid.

“Are you alright?” Shouto lowers his voice to a whisper and crouches down next to the bed. He sees Midoriya’s eyes flutter open in the dim light and bore into his face with a pleading look.

“I’m…” he squeezes his eyes shut again. “Good,” he croaks. Shouto has never seen him look so helpless. Rising back to a stand, he remembers the tupperware container full of pork soup that currently rests in his hands.

“Can...you sit up and eat?” he asks. He’s positive Midoriya just needs more medicine, but he’ll need to eat more first. Midoriya hums quietly and scooches himself into a somewhat upright position, eyes closed all the while. His pillows really need to be fluffed, but Shouto isn’t sure if that’s his responsibility so he leaves them be.

Pork bowl in hand, Shouto sits on the edge of Midoriya’s bed. At the movement, Midoriya’s eyes open again. Was it okay to sit on his bed? Shouto is suddenly filled with doubt. Should he have asked first? It’s not as if he hasn’t sat on Midoriya’s bed before, but it’s a bit different when the boy literally just woke up from a three hour drug-induced nap and his hair is chaotically tousled with sleep, and his eyes are searching Shouto’s again and-

“What’s in the bowl?”

“Pork soup. I just reheated it.” He hands the tupperware and chopsticks to Midoriya, who immediately pops off the lid and stirs eagerly.

“Thank you,” he says before taking a big bite. He sighs and closes his eyes as he chews. “Sorry I stopped responding earlier. My phone slid off the bed.”

Shouto promptly bends over and grabs Midoriya’s phone, setting it on the bedside table. Midoriya must be feeling pretty horrible if he couldn’t even reach down a few feet. “That’s alright,” Shouto replies, grabbing the medicine bottle and reading the dosage instructions again.

“Wait,” Midoriya says. Shouto looks up to see Midoriya inspecting the tupperware container. “This is definitely not microwave safe.”

Shouto blinks. “I didn’t use a microwave.”

“But you said you reheated-” Midoriya cuts himself off and raises his eyes to meet Shouto’s. “Oh,” he says at length, one side of his mouth turning upwards as he lowers his head again and continues eating. His hunched position over the soup bowl is not unlike the posture of a gargoyle. Shouto keeps this to himself.

As Midoriya eats quietly, Shouto hands him the next dose of medicine and watches him toss the pills back without a second thought. He seems to be doing a bit better than he was earlier. And judging by Midoriya’s casual attitude, it seems he doesn’t remember their...unusual interaction from earlier. He’d probably be mortified if he knew, so Shouto keeps his mouth shut. Though he can’t help but wonder if it will happen again when Midoriya takes another dose of medication...Midoriya’s hair was incredibly soft, so if asked to stroke it once more, Shouto would gladly oblige.

“How are you feeling?” Shouto blurts, chasing away the soft thoughts in favor of practicality.

Midoriya thinks for a moment, scrunching his nose and sighing as he prepares his next bite of food. “Better, now that you’re here.”

“Are you talking to me or to the soup?”

Midoriya smiles as he chews, and gives no reply beyond a humming sound that strongly suggests the latter. Shouto can’t help but scoff in amusement, looking away from his friend and shaking his head in disbelief. “After all I’ve done for you, Midoriya.”

The room is quiet. After a few moments with no response, Shouto slowly turns his head to eye his friend once again. Midoriya’s eyes look like large, glowing saucers as he returns Shouto’s stare.

“I was kidding,” Shouto mumbles, unease bubbling in his stomach at Midoriya’s suddenly panicked expression. “I’m happy to assist you, and I really haven’t even done all that much. I wish I could do m-”

“Did I-” Midoriya interrupts, immediately choking on his words. He lowers his wide gaze back to his bowl and tries again. “Did I...do something weird earlier? When I was. When you were…”

“When you took the medicine? Not really. You just said you were getting tired, and then I left when you fell asleep.”

Midoriya’s eyebrows lower in concentration and he stares into his soup. “But before you left...I didn’t ask you...anything? To do anything?”

Shouto figures there’s no use trying to hide it now, as it seems Midoriya’s memory has returned. “Oh, yes, you did,” he says, looking across the room again. “You requested that I stroke your hair.”

The bed shifts suddenly as Midoriya flails and almost undoubtedly spills soup on himself. A small squeaking noise supports that theory, but Shouto keeps his gaze trained on the opposite wall as he speaks, giving Midoriya some privacy to react as he wishes. Shouto hopes his friend isn’t too embarrassed. Maybe some gentle teasing will lighten the mood? “Actually,” he continues, “You didn’t technically ask, but you did grab my hand and put it on your head.”

At this, a fit of coughing erupts from Midoriya’s place on the bed, which finally prompts Shouto to turn his head. Midoriya is wheezing into the crook of his elbow, soup bowl abandoned next to him and balancing precariously amongst the bed sheets. Shouto picks up the bowl and places it safely on the nightstand before returning his attention to his friend. Even in the dim light, Shouto can see Midoriya’s face redden as he attempts to catch his breath. “Are you okay?” Shouto asks, leaning closer to try and catch Midoriya’s eye.

“Todoroki, you don’t - I’m really sorry for c-causing you so much trouble today,” Midoriya stutters, hiding his face behind his arms. Are his hands shaking? “You’ve really done enough, I’m doing better and it’s not your fault this- I got caught up in this quirk so you really- just don’t worry about it, I can take care of myself from here, okay?” He squeaks.

Shouto stares. “Do you want me to leave?” His thoughts are immediately pulled back to earlier that day, when he asked the same question. His gut tells him he’s getting a different response this time around.

Midoriya peeks around his arms to meet Shouto’s stare with his own. His eyes soften with a mix of fatigue and sadness. He takes in a slow breath and exhales it as he responds. “Yes.”

Shouto nods to himself and promptly stands, scanning the dark room for a moment in case he forgot anything.

“I just…” Midoriya continues, sinking back into his pillows. “When the medicine kicks in again, I don’t...I don’t want to act all weird and make you uncomfortable again. I’m really sorry.”

Shouto turns to look at Midoriya, who slides further down into his pillows. He’s looking a little worse for wear, his breaths shallow and skin flushed. Is he feverish? Shouto places his left hand against Midoriya’s forehead. He certainly has a fever - he’s clammy, shaky, and much too warm. But he says he’s feeling better? Shouto lowers his gaze from Midoriya’s forehead and is at once frozen in place by big, round eyes shining up at him in the dark.

Shouto’s mouth is suddenly dry. Something about the darkness of the room must be muddying his social awareness, because he is locked in place, unable to move his hand or to break eye contact. He finds himself speaking on autopilot.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable, Midoriya.”

Shouto’s hand moves on its own accord. It slides back ever-so-slowly, pushing Midoriya’s hair away from his forehead. Fingers traverse green curls like snakes through a jungle, and Shouto watches, hypnotized by the way the hair stubbornly flops back down to his friend’s forehead, one lock at a time. Midoriya’s eyes flutter closed, and he releases a breath that Shouto didn’t even realize was being held.

“Todoroki…” Midoriya mumbles sleepily. “You’re so nice to me.” Shouto feels a rush of fondness flood his chest. Midoriya is strong, and powerful, and borderline unstoppable in most situations - but at this moment, Shouto can’t help but feel the unshakable need to protect him at all costs. This is Midoriya in his most vulnerable state, and he’s not only allowing Shouto to see him like this, but he trusts Shouto to take care of him.

No one has ever trusted Shouto like this before.

“You were kind to me first, Midoriya,” Shouto says, somehow finding the strength to pull his hand away from the forest of Midoriya’s hair. “I didn’t deserve your kindness and yet you went out of your way to-”

“You deserved it!” Midoriya’s eyes open again, piercing through the dark with a determined gleam. His face relaxes quickly, exhaustion taking over as he heaves a deep, rattly sigh. “You did deserve it. You still do. You’re so…” Midoriya scrunches his face up, searching for the words. “You’re a really good person, Todoroki.”

Shouto doubts that, but something about the simple confidence of Midoriya’s words gives him pause. His first instinct is to shoot Midoriya down and refuse to think of himself as anything but the violent, emotionless man his father raised him to be. But Midoriya is honest and kind, and he wouldn’t lie to Shouto. He must truly believe there’s some good in him. And Shouto finds himself unexpectedly clinging to those words like a lifeline. He decides to go against his instincts and accept the compliment.

“Thank you, Midoriya.”

Midoriya smiles and his eyes drift closed again. His mouth widens into a huge yawn, and he stretches his arms above his head. The medicine must be kicking in again.

“I’ll let you sleep,” Shouto says, turning and making his way toward the door. In the doorway, he turns to face the dark room once more. “Goodnight, Midoriya.” “Goodnight Todoroki - thanks, a bunch.”

“My pleasure.”

The door clicks shut behind Todoroki and Izuku holds his breath for as long as he can.

This ends up only being a few moments. Izuku’s lungs are burning from stifling his coughing for so long - but now that he’s alone, he allows himself to try and clear his airways. The coughing fit rumbles through his entire body, and he wheezes until his lungs crackle. He gasps for air, which just leads to more coughing. When tears begin to spill across his cheeks, Izuku realizes that he actually can’t catch his breath this time.

Panic mingles with the pain of oxygen deprivation, and Izuku is so busy trying to find his breath that he barely registers the feeling of gentle arms winding around his shoulders.

The arms pull Izuku forward, with his cheek pressed up against a welcoming shoulder. The rattling coughs continue to rack his body, but there’s an additional sensation of hands sliding across his back, knuckles rubbing circles along his vertebrae, fingers stroking his neck and hair. His head is swimming with confusion from the medicine and not being able to breathe, and he tries desperately to regain his composure - to no avail. He doesn’t register himself slipping into unconsciousness. He hears a voice whispering but can’t make out any words. Stars fill his vision, and slowly break apart into static as a high pitched ringing fills his head.

Does this sickness quirk have the power to kill? Because it sure feels like it.

Regaining his senses, Izuku finds himself completely limp, panting, and curled up on his side. His head is pounding, his lungs are burning, and his back is aching from exertion. There are beads of sweat on his forehead and tears drying on his cheeks. When he opens his eyes it’s dark, but Izuku can tell that even if the lights were on, his vision would still be black around the edges. He blinks a few times and squints. His entire field of vision is filled by a simple long sleeved shirt. His eyes travel upward to meet the gaze of an extremely concerned Todoroki. In other words, a Todoroki with the slightest crease between his eyebrows and a barely-there purse in his lips.

Izuku squeezes his eyes shut again and groans, pulling his face away from where it was pressed up against his friend’s stomach. He feels Todoroki’s hand tense on his shoulder, holding him in place.

“Midoriya.”

Izuku opens his eyes again, and Todoroki is still looking down, searching his face, still with that concerned expression. He looks so shaken. This is the last thing Izuku wanted.

“Were you hiding how sick you were?” Todoroki mumbles, narrowing his eyes. “It’s getting worse. You were acting like it was getting better. Why…?”

Scratch that - this is the last thing Izuku wanted. He wasn’t trying to lie, he just didn’t want his friend to worry - he would give anything to keep Todoroki’s trust. He opens his mouth to say as much, but all that comes out is a raspy squeak. Izuku winces at the rawness of his throat, and closes his mouth in shame as tears form hot in his eyes.

Todoroki’s face softens. His hand leaves Izuku’s shoulder and instead reaches towards his face. He hesitates briefly before placing his hand on Izuku’s temple, smoothing his unruly hair back once again.

“It’s okay.”

The tears overflow and Izuku is hit with an overwhelming exhaustion. He turns to bury his face in Todoroki’s shirt again, and wraps his arms around his friend’s torso.

Shouto is aware that most people are accustomed to touch.

Seeking primal comfort in the form of physical contact is second nature for people like Midoriya. But in the past day, Shouto has experienced more intentional and positive touches than he has since his mother was sent away during his childhood.

Midoriya looks and feels so small as he wraps his arms around Shouto’s waist. It’s a wonder that this is the same hero Deku that single-handedly felled a massive villain with a strength quirk just this morning. Now, his body is shuddering from coughing too much. Shouto takes a deep breath and begins to lightly trace long, winding shapes along Midoriya’s back. Midoriya hums quietly, and squeezes Shouto for a moment.

Something warm leaks out of Shouto’s heart, slowly dripping into his stomach like honey.

Shouto has always thought he’s a bit of a lonely person. But he was never sure until this moment. Before, he thought the lonely feeling would go away when he came to UA. But even when he moved into the dorms, surrounded by people every day, the strange, longing feeling never ceased. He never realized that this kind of touch is what he’s been missing.

A lump forms in Shouto’s throat that he would never admit to.

Shouto wraps his arms around Midoriya’s shoulders once more and gently tugs him upward until green curls rest against a hot and cold chest. Shouto leans back into the pillows and breathes a deep sigh, cradling his friend’s head. Midoriya’s warmth, his smell, his shaky breathing, fills Shouto’s senses and he relishes in the feeling of closeness. The walls Shouto has built around himself for his entire life have been breached, and he accepts the intruder with open arms.

The two stay like this until sleep pulls them under.

73 notes · View notes

is-it-art-tho · 3 years

Link

Summary: A mission gone awry, too many memories, too much blood, and not enough time. Bruce races to save a son he couldn't save before.

Prologue, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, Ch. 7, Ch. 8

_______________

Now.

“—can’t…br…brea…” Jason choked, blood spilling from the corners of his mouth.

“W-where…?” The younger man’s eyes swiveled wildly, disoriented and searching.

“Could…b’m-more…”

“There aren’t. Stop talking.”

“Oracle?” Bruce demanded, a finger to his ear.

“You two on your way bac—?”

“Nearest hospital.”

“Oh, uh”—the patter of keys— “about forty minutes east of you.”

Damn it. “The Berlin cave. What’s the medical designation?”

“Two.”

Certainly not his most equipped base, but it wasn’t nothing. At the very least, it would be enough to stabilize Jason for transport to an actual trauma center.

“What’s going on?” she asked now, her tone still carefully restrained.

He eyed a car parked a few feet away. “Change of plans. I need you to make sure the path is clear between us and the cave. No stops. And have Dr. Ziegler meet us there.”

“Done. Are you guys alright? Is Hood—”

“I…hate…Germany,” the young man croaked.

Bruce slid his arm under Jason and pulled him up, cringing as Jason cried out and hunched forward in pain.

“Come on," the older man urged. We—”

*************************

Then.

“—have to go. Where is he?” ” Bruce was standing beside the open batmobile, shifting his weight impatiently.

Alfred checked his watch. “I haven’t heard from him since this weekend.”

With another sigh, he climbed into the driver’s seat.

“You’re leaving without him?” Alfred asked. The question sounded neutral enough, but Bruce knew the older man well enough to catch the edge of disapproval.

“Going to find him,” Bruce corrected. It wouldn’t be easy if Jason didn’t want it to be. But, then again, Bruce had a lot of experience finding people who didn’t want to be found.

The roof of the car had not even closed halfway when the elevator doors slid open and Jason slouched into the cave.

“Sorry, m’late,” he muttered. His voice, already muffled by the helmet, came out sounding more like a sigh or a groan than actual speech.

Bruce watched from the car as the eighteen-year-old trudged toward him, his movements just a little clumsier, a little more sluggish than usual.

“Tire blew,” Jason grunted, reclining the seat and tilting his head back.

“Everything okay?”

“Peachy,”

“What is going on?” Bruce demanded, cutting the car off again.

“Nothing. Geez. Can we just go?”

Silence.

“Oh my God. You’re kidding me,” Jason moaned.

Jason’s head swiveled toward the dashboard as the monitors there blinked on. “What the—”

“Blood alcohol,” Bruce requested.

“What are you doing?”

One of the screens read Processing… before it answered, “Blood alcohol content for Hood—comma—Red. Zero point zero.”

“Controlled substances?” Bruce asked.

This time Jason’s head swung back towards the older man. Even with the helmet on, his anger and indignance were palpable.

The robotic voice responded, “Negative.”

“You think I’m drunk and high?” Jason demanded.

“I’m just trying to get some answers.”

“And that’s what you start with? Also: when the hell did you put scanners in my helmet? I made this mysel—” He broke off in a coughing fit that left him bent over and groaning.

Bruce studied him for a moment before saying, “You’re sick.”

“That’s what they tell me,” he rasped, pressing the button on the side of his helmet to take it off and let it fall to the floor.

“Jason…"

“I’m fine.”

“Computer—”

“Goddam—"

“Hood—comma—Red. Body temp, please.”

“One hundred and two point three,” the computer supplied.

“It’s mild,” the teen countered, leaning back again.

“It’s not. Why didn’t you just tell me? I can handle patrol on my own.”

“Because I’m a grown man and I don’t need everyone making a big deal every time I get the sniffles.”

“This is your body’s way of telling you to go easy. If you’re not careful you’ll make it worse.”

“Whatever. Just drive.”

“You need to be home.”

“Yeah, I’ll take a real long nap right after we get back. Now will you please just drive the freaking car.”

“Why are you being so stubborn? There’s no need for you to run yourself into the—"

This wasn’t one of those fights. Not yet anyway.

Jason’s head thumped back into the seat and he stared ahead as he added, “Please.”

Reluctantly, Bruce started the engine again. The teen glanced at him in surprise.

“We’re keeping it short,” Bruce clarified. “And you’re staying here tonight.”

Jason looked at him, not agreeing but not arguing either, which the older man decided to accept as a win.

“Seatbelt,” he ordered, and the boy obeyed begrudgingly. Then in the blink of an eye, they were soaring down the tunnel, barreling towards the city.

#a little bit louder now #batman fic #batman fanfic #batman fanfiction #whump fic #whump #jason todd #red hood #batman #bruce wayne #hurt/comfort

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yannfredericks · 3 years

Note

PLEASE talk about your polly backstory 👀

omg ty SO much for asking!!! 🥺 (and sorry for taking far too long to answer!!)

To me, polly shows obvious signs of being an only child with a massive inferiority complex instilled by her parents for not meeting their outrageous expectations, but I think that’s only if you’re specifically looking to understand why she is the way she is and not just writing her off as Pretty Popular Girl Is A Bitch :) This has gotten very long so I'll put it under a read more!

So in my mind, she’s not only an only child, but the only gryffindor in an all slytherin family. Her family were ~almost~ in the sacred 28 (which they pride themselves on) and only missed out due to the ‘unfortunate’ choice of partners a very select few of their ancestors made. They weren’t necessarily on Voldemort’s side, but I wouldn’t say that they were overly opposed either, I imagine they mostly kept themselves to themselves and skirted by by keeping up appearances and being friendly with, but not close enough to end up entangled with, pure blood extremist families. So not great people needless to say, quite cowardly too in all honesty for all their ambitions of being amongst the likes of the Malfoys. While this mostly concerns her grandparents, they raised her parents to have the same values and general outlook on life.

So then we come to Polly’s childhood. Her parents never really loved her unconditionally so much as loved the idea of her being the golden child to restore their name and carry on their legacy. Which was unfortunate when she failed to show any signs of magic for the first 9/10 years of her life. They didn’t have any real time for her being a child and mostly regarded her and expected her to behave like a little adult. She didn’t get to play or actually be a child really, she was usually left to her own devices outside of schooling and piano classes and was in many ways, raised by the family house elf Pipsey. Polly mostly saw her parents at the dinner table, for breakfast and supper and had the rest of the day to herself, mostly shut in her room with her piano (which, although reasonably good at it, she grew very quickly bored of). She had a very vivid imagination and grew bored of study and lessons easily. She wasn’t given any dolls but managed to make her own out of the clothes she grew out of, while they weren’t very pretty she loved them and could create stories out of the most mundane things since that was really all she had at her disposal. This carries on for the first 6/7 years of her life, she would create stories in her room for hours and was much closer with Pipsey than her parents knew, which meant that Pipsey was often involved in her (very limited) play time under Polly’s instruction. This lasted until she started homeschool.

She was expected to study every day from the day she started school as her parents demanded excellence, which is where the disappointment started but no where near where it ended. She was schooled in a group of other pure blood girls, the children of her family’s friends, which was where she first learnt how effective manipulation and humiliation was. Actually, that’s not quite true, the first person she learnt that from was her father, who seemed to find endless things about polly childish, unbecoming and disappointing. Her mother wasn’t much better, and the more time that passed without her showing any signs of magic, the more resigned and borderline hateful they became of her, calling her a squib and a ‘failed endeavour’, and unfortunately, as children often do, she started mimicking this behaviour around the other girls and found out very quickly how to get what she wanted. Whether that be to get a specific girl to be her best friend, another to be ignored by everyone, to get answers for the homework, to get out of the homework, or most importantly: frighten the girls out of ever bringing up the fact that she couldn’t do magic. She probably made threatening comments about being very powerful and not trusting herself to use magic around them to cover up the fact that she was coming up nine and a half and still hadn’t had a single instance of magic.

I don’t think she really understood how horrible her behaviour was then and likely thought this was normal behaviour bc the girls she was schooled with weren’t exactly nice either, and when that’s how people behave in your home and in your class/every aspect of your life you tend to make the assumption that that's just how everyone is. It made her feel good in the moment, having power over others often does have a certain appeal, however dark, but I imagine she spent a lot of time thinking about it at night and feeling awful but not being able to articulate why. I like to picture her having long chats with Pipsey and skirting around the subject, wanting to talk about it but being too afraid to find out what was making her feel this way.

Skip forward and her parents began to talk about replacing Pipsey, she’s old and a lot slower these days and far, far too indulgent with Polly. Polly, struggling to get her parents attention at the best of times, begs and begs them to keep her on, begs them to just get another elf to help alongside Pipsey instead of getting rid of her entirely, and when they refuse to listen and send her off to her room, she throws the tantrum to end all tantrums, screaming, crying, kicking, throwing things, all the behaviour she has been taught against suddenly comes tumbling out of her until they all realise that she's levitating their massive heavy wooden bookshelf up and up in a very menacing way over her parents.

It’s not her conscious intention to hurt them, but on a subconscious level it’s definitely her desire to make them feel the hurt, upset, and fear that they’ve made her feel, and I’d consider this the first time we see just how strongly she cares for the people she loves. It’s the fear of losing Pipsey that drives her to use magic for the first time. Her parents are OVERJOYED at this display of magic as they’d honestly almost completely given up on her and decide to keep Pipsey as a reward for her display. Not a great thing bc it instilled in her the idea that she can get whatever she wants if she throws a big enough tantrum and is threatening enough, but on the other hand it teaches her to always fight for what she feels is right so... plus Pipsey is so grateful to Polly for working so hard to keep her (as if Polly would /ever/ let anything stand between her and what she loves)

The magic doesn’t come easily after this though, it comes rarely and is quite difficult for her since she’s been raised to be so reserved and emotionless, but she’s felt it now and manages to achieve the barest of minimums from here on out. I don’t think magic is exclusively connected to emotional states or a persons openness but being closed off has definitely been to the detriment of Polly’s power. She’s got a renewed sense of self worth from the experience though and begins to feel once again like she might be able to make her parents proud.

She gets her Hogwarts letter and it is the happiest she’s ever been and it’s the closest they’ve ever felt like a real family. Everything is perfect until the moment she meets Yann Fredericks on the train and her world image starts to crumble.

Yann is easily the nicest person she's ever met and it's confusing and INFURIATING and she has no idea how to cope with it, but suddenly (and she doesn't know HOW) she has a friend and the sorting hat is on her head and she's in Gryffindor with this boy she's only known a few hours and her entire world is upside down.

That first night she creeps down into the Gryffindor common room because she's so confused and sick with anxiety that she can't sleep, only to find Yann down there too. He also can't sleep, but his reason is that he misses his mums and his sister Leah, and the combination of that mixed with his excitement for the years ahead means that he probably won't sleep for hours. They end up talking about anything and everything until they can't keep their eyes open, and although she's still more nervous than she's ever been, she's also made her first real friend. They end up having long, quiet chats in that corner almost every night for the rest of their time at Hogwarts.

She gathers the courage to write to her parents the next day and never receives a reply, which is a reply in itself, and she's absolutely devastated. Not to mention she's not managing any better with her magic, and seems to be just about the only one with this issue except for:

Albus Potter.

Her homeschool days come back to her and suddenly she's picking on Albus and pointing out all his flaws and the fact that he can hardly manage any magic it all and now no one even notices that she can't get her feather to levitate or a broom into her hands because they're all noticing that in Albus. It's not nice and it doesn't make her feel good, but it's a relief to not have to worry about herself when she's got everyone laughing at someone else's misfortune. And in doing so she makes another friend: Karl Jenkins! Who seems equally as keen to make jokes at the expense of others, and who introduces her and Yann to his friend Craig Bowker Jr.

I could go on and on but it's already taken me like, a year, to answer this!! and it gets a bit more just 'story' rather than 'backstory' from here so there you have it! I'm sorry for taking an absurd amount of time and for rambling so much and probably only making a small amount of sense but there you have it! I love Polly so much and I'm so excited for her to grow, mature and get the help that she needs to become the person that she's meant to be <3 Thank you thank you thank you for asking!! I am literally always down to talk about Polly, or any other member of the gang, and I will endeavour to do better than a year's turn around in future <3 love youuuuu

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codylabs · 4 years

Text

My Top 10 Ships

I’m not a very romantic sort of guy, I’m not real forgiving to departures from canon, I get easily annoyed at inconsistencies, and I don’t watch much television and movies, so in order for me to ship something, it has to be a GOOD ship. I default toward rejecting ships, so to impress ME, it must be built on logic, and evidence, it’s gotta be something I can suspend my disbelief far enough to accept. And it’s gotta have story behind it, something deep, some hefty emotional weight; if it doesn’t tickle this man’s cold reptilian heart with strong beats and excellent writing, it goes straight to the trash. I absoLUTELY will not stand for any of these weird little cute, pretty, pandering, trashy crack ships that everybody seems to be clumsily throwing characters into. Most ships are trash ships. They are not good ships.

You think your ship is good? You like your ship?

You ship it?

No you don’t.

Get out of here.

You will listen to me. I will tell you. Look at me. I’m the Captain now.

Here are the 10 good ships.

10. The Rocinante, The Expanse

A resoundingly excellent ship. Unlike most ships you see out there, this thing was actually designed with realistic space combat in mind. It’s got 6 computer-controlled gatling turrets covering every angle, it accelerates in whatever direction it’s pointing, its bridge is right in the center to put as much armor as possible between enemies and crew, overall a much better-designed vehicle than most everything you see about.

That being said, I didn’t have much connection to this ship. Its crew weren’t really interesting, the aesthetic was kinda bleak, and I basically stopped watching after the phazon showed up. And the Rocinante itself has pretty poor redundancy. Enemy bullets can literally just pass through it (as is realistic for a ship this size) so how about multiple main engines huh? Absolutely tragic oversight. And its interior looks too much like an Apple product. How are you supposed to work on it? Where are the wires and pipes??? The handholds?????

9. Ares IV M.A.V., The Martian

Almost more of a symbol than a ship. A symbol of freedom, of escape. A beautiful symbol. This is what Mark Watney spends the whole movie trying to reach, with an entire world backing him up, and an entire world trying to stop him. It’s the goal of the movie, and it just looks so beautiful when he finally reaches it and sees it sitting there in the middle of the desert, ass down, nose up; a tall, proud symbol. This ship has a special significance for me because the author of the original book really did his research on the scientific requirements and details of a Mars Ascent Vehicle, and it was actually inspired by the E.R.V. in another book, ‘A Case For Mars’, which I read when I was younger. “Makes its own methane-oxygen fuel on-site by using nuclear power to break down CO2 in the atmosphere and combining it with stored hydrogen, don’t you know.” I say as I adjust my spectacles and puff my pipe.

The M.A.V. in the movie does have a few issues, such as hallway and rooms running straight up through where the fuel tanks ought to be (instead of a lift/ladder on the exterior) and a rugged, industrial aesthetic that looks too heavy and cumbersome for a ship of its type. (And you’re seriously telling me he couldn’t have used the capsule’s RCS to literally bypass the movie’s entire climax? WHY NOT? The book never mentioned him having to drain the monopropellant!!!) But I’ll let that slide. Great movie.

8. Biggest Boy, The Greatship

(I don’t know the ship name so I had to make up a name. You know what, I think it’s actually just called the Greatship.)

So it’s a starship the size of Jupiter, empty, unmanned, perfectly mysterious, that comes gliding into the galaxy a couple million years into humanity’s future. Where did it come from? Who made it and how? Good questions. It’s powered by matter-antimatter annihilation reactions from within planet-sized internal tanks, and its engines use hydrogen and fusion exhaust as reaction mass, and its hull is made of hyperfiber, a super-strong fictional material with a 4-dimensional lattice structure, able to weather impacts by spreading them out over various dimensions where the impact occurred in a different place.

I hope that after the first few entries, you didn’t get the impression that I am somehow against futuristic, far-out, impossible technologies. Quite the opposite! I love me some hyperdrive and anti-gravity and A.I. and stuff. However! Ships must be well-designed for the technology available, and must take no creative liberties except those explicitly allowed by the difference in the setting. The laws of physics don’t disappear when the magic crystals come out, the magic crystals are merely a different tool to combat them. Engineering will always exist, should start with the tools and work outward, form follows function. Star Wars ships, for instance, are trash because they don’t mount their repulsorlift arrays consistently, they’re not aerodynamic, and their engines aren’t aligned around their center of masses.

So I like the Great Ship. Although the story is pretty far-fetched, and a lot of crazy, out-there scifi events transpire deep in the ship’s depths, the book always strictly kept its own rules in mind, and never broke those rules, no matter how outlandishly crazy things got. Thanks for comprehending something so incomprehensible, Robert Reed. You inspired me miles in my own work.

7. The Ghost, The Sea Wolf

The story may be fiction, but the Ghost was as real as ghosts can be.

Jack London did his research. No, not research, he LIVED this. The Ghost is a seal-hunting schooner much like one that he served aboard during his rollercoaster of a life, and he captured every detail of its operation, of its requirements, of its mechanics, and of the incredible toll it took on the people that lived such a life. The boat is made to feel as oppressive and claustrophobic as a prison, as if it were an extension of the monster that commanded it, directly in contrast to the expansive beauty of the sea around them. My goodness, what a beautiful book. What a moving, interesting, challenging book, with such a story! This book is one of the climaxes of fiction, and one of the inspirations for Shifting Sands, if I remember correctly. I would recommend this book to anybody. Beautiful.

6. Ferbnessa, Phineas and Ferb

Okay, so I hope we can all agree that Vanessa is nothing but bad news. But that being said, Ferb knows exactly the relationship he wants, and by golly, he goes for it. Most male characters would stutter or get nervous or lose confidence around their crush, especially if that crush is about a hundred miles out of their league or if they already had another boyfriend, but Ferb? No. Not my man Ferb. He’s slighly too much of a legend to fall for such childish pitfalls. He doesn’t posture, he doesn’t creep or flirt or try to sabotage the other men in her life, he doesn’t even speak a word, he just maintains his blank expression, cranks his own already-inhuman levels of confidence and competence up through the roof to borderline olympian levels, and continues being himself. These rare moments of Ferbly passion are some of the few open windows we get into the grandiose machinations of his mysterious mind, and he uses it to bring out the best in Vanessa as well. And in the future episode, set years down the line, wouldn’t you know it, they’re a pair.

All joking aside though, this whole ship is basically comedy. It’s a super small part of the show, it’s only in like 5 episodes, it’s a running gag, it’s hilarious. It’s great. And it fits right into the tone and the feel of the show, because P&F’s entire world really is a comedy about going for it and living your dreams. So this is just the best thing ever. It’s been about a decade since then, and I still burst out laughing at how much of a pristine picture of ideal masculinity Ferb is. Become like Ferb, boys, and you will become men.

Legendary.

Eat your heart out, Dipper.

3. Shunk, Voltron

(I don’t know the ship name so I had to make up a name)

Huge props to the voltron team for making a female alien character (even a romantic interest) with NO BOOBS. Do you have ANY idea how sick and tired I am of artists throwing a big ol’ pair of balonkadongs onto lobsters and snakes when almost everything in the real world besides folks and cows have either 0 or 8+ of them? Everything’s gotta be traditionally sexy and recognizably-feminine and GREAT now you just canonized all the porn! Disgusteg

but now look at Shay. She’s a rock person. She’s got silicon-based biology, she probably weighs 500 lbs and bleeds sand. She’s got enormous hands and weird knees and no nose and lumps everywhere, AND YET STILL the show plays all the tropes 100% straight with her being a fair young maiden and a sweet princess. And it works because Hunk is just this great guy who’s exactly as sweet and caring, and he’s not the most attractive of the Paladins either, so he probably lives his life looking past appearances. He doesn’t care that she’s an alien rock, he cares about her as a person, and she obviously worships him right back. Even though Shay is shown in season 1 and then never again until season 7, Hunk still avoids alternative romantic entanglements, citing ‘a rock I know’, and it just adds to his persona as this infinitely loyal teddy bear. I tip my hat to this, the single ship I know that’s 0% sexy and 100% wholesome.

And Hunk is the best Paladin. He’s just the greatest. I revere him. I salute him as he walks past. This man among men. Look at this guy. I don’t even care about any of the other ships in Voltron (I mean, the Castle of Lions is okay, but it’s outriggers are kinda spindly) but Hunk and Shay deserve each other.

4. Wendip, Gravity Falls

So Dipper’s 12/13, and Wendy’s 15. That’s a pretty giant age difference. Maybe you fans have fooled yourselves into thinking it’s not, but it is. She knows it. He knows it. His sister knows it. Your mom knows it. So halfway through the show, when he finally got around to confessing his feelings to her, she told him no. Sure they’re still friends, sure they like each other, and sure they have a lot of chemistry and they still have a movie night every Friday, but at the end of the day, he’s a smelly little midget who has to go back to California at the end of the Summer, and she’s a older girl with approximately zero romantic feelings for him. So the notion that it could work out is pretty obvious to everyone, and especially to him, pretty much hopeless. And he really did handle it all pretty poorly and immaturely too, he objectified her and stalked her and simped up a storm and sabotaged her boyfriend, so perhaps he deserved what he got. Perhaps it’s better this way.

And yet.

And yet Wendy never really got a happy ending in the show. And Dipper never got a conclusive romance either. So after everything, it’s easy to think about it how he thinks about it, by wondering how things could have been, if everything were just so slightly different, if she’d said yes or if they united again. She wishes she could be younger, he wishes he could be older. She’s more dominant, he’s more recessive. She has a lot of serious issues in her life, and could really seriously use a driven, heroic, intelligent friend to help her out, give her purpose, and steer her right. And Lord knows he could use somebody with street smarts and actual muscles to have his back now and again. They complement each other perfectly. They make up for each others’ weaknesses. They’re everything they ever wanted from another, and if you do the math, their children would be actual literal supersoldiers.

Or at least that’s the way a lot of people see it. There’s been immeasurable mountains of fanfiction and fanart from people who are just so sad that in a show full of happy endings and dreams coming true and old regrets being resolved and children growing up, that one ending would never be happy, one dream would never come to pass, one regret would stick with you forever, one child would never grow up. Maybe if you extrapolate out the story they’d end up together? Or maybe they’d find other, better partners? Maybe romance isn’t all that important in the grand scheme of things, and this is the best ending there could have been? Perhaps, perhaps not. But in any case, there’s a lot of very rich storytelling potential for the untold journey before them, and for the paths that could have been.

Stop drawing fetish art of Wendy, you insufferable heathen actual donkeys.

3. Kataang, Avatar: The Last Airbender

Now HERE’S a serious relationship. Not just a romantic ship, (though it is that,) not just some cutesy, funny thing or some ship-war fodder, (though it is cute and funny and did spawn a ship-war,) not just a matter of certainty and destiny, (though it is certain and was destined,) this is a real, TANGIBLE relationship, that these characters built together over a solid year of on-screen adventuring and fighting. They’ve helped each other through trauma, they’ve been there for each other in their darkest moments, they learned martial-arts together, they’ve fought back-to back against grown men, they’ve worked front-to-front sawing through steel girders, they’ve saved each other’s lives, he once ACTUALLY DIED and she brought him BACK. They end up respecting each other, and valuing each other in the intimate way that only true friends do.

And they’re shown working through all their imperfections and mistakes too. Aang sometimes oversteps boundaries and says stupid stuff because he’s a kid, and Katara sometimes scolds him and controls him because she’s motherly and orderly, they get jealous of each other, but none of those things drive them apart, and they deal with them, and they conquer them, and they keep a very legitimate and multi-faceted friendship going, and that’s the key to it all. The fact that this friendship becomes romance is just proof that it was a friendship of quality.

I think people tend to overlook or forget this ship because the last few episodes of the show found them in a pretty dark place, needing to deal with matters of life and death and justice in very different ways, and unlike all their other issues, we don’t really get to see them reconciling these differences before the story ends, which kind of leaves a sour taste between them. And Katara goes on a couple missions with Zuko around the same time, so now half of all people want Zutara, when in actuality, Zutara is a trash ship, which is a true science fact.

2. Serenity, Firefly

Only reason this ship isn’t #1 is because it isn’t constructed using a proper aerospace philosophy; it’s made of bulky machinery and steel beams and chunky plates, it looks more like an ocean vessel from the inside, and is WAY too big for its 6-12 person crew and light cargo capacity. Plus it doesn’t have any room for fuel and its got no wheels on its landing legs and no downward-facing windows and its reactor is just too dang SMOL and its engines are attached too flimsily. This all wouldn’t be too much of an issue if they were going for a far-future aesthetic, but if you’re trying to do something grounded and semi-contemporary, you need to lose some weight girl, I’m sorry.

But by gosh does it make up for it in heart. The entire inside of this ship was mapped out and made on set, with so many homely little decorations and touches to make every room feel like the person who inhabits it, sterile professional blue for the doc’s medbay, warm happy red for Kaylee’s engine room, all-serious-business-but-also-plastic-dinos for Wash’s cockpit... It hit me hard when this baby it crashed in the movie, and it felt almost real when River pretended to mind-meld with it. This ship has more soul in one buffer panel than most shows have in the entire cast, enough to make it seem like its own character, even in a show crowded with charming characters. I love this ship intimately, even if I would have built it differently.

1. Colonial Vessel 46.18′\, Gravity Falls

(I don’t know the ship name so I had to make up a name)

You didn’t think I’d leave out this one, did you? After all the fanfiction I’ve written? This is basically my ship at this point. Anyway, enough about me; the vessel beneath Crash Site Omega really is the quintessential alien ship; its perfectly cliche flying-saucer design taps into all the audience’s pre-existing fanciful notions and imaginings and disbelief-suspension, meanwhile its presentation isn’t cliche or fanciful in the slightest.

There’s not much to say about it from a technical standpoint, besides personal musings: it would need anti-gravity to stay airborne without thrusters, it would need a FTL drive to cross the distances it did, its drones would need to be made of some kind of semi-liquid to move like they do... But these sort of out-of-the-box, never-before-seen, world-expanding brain-knocks are exactly what makes this ship special. It’s an alien ship, built with technology unknown to people, forged from materials that people don’t possess, and inhabited by beings we will never meet. For all we know, this ship could be perfectly sound from an engineering standpoint, and no engineer in the audience could claim to prove it otherwise, because unlike something like the T.A.R.D.I.S., they never try and fail to explain it away with science buzzwords or canonize its details or show off some fancy glowy reactor. This ancient husk is left as a yawning pit in reason, and that’s beautiful.

Moreover, this ship is an amazingly powerful narrative tool, and a mind-blowing surprise to drop in as a setpiece during the show’s final episodes. This ship embodies everything that made the show’s mysteries special: the evidence presented so early and so consistently, the creativity in creature design, action, and worldbuilding, the yawning depths of unknowable lore, and most of all the burning, unquenched desire to know more... The imprint this ship made in the cliffs over the town has been hanging over the characters’ heads the entire series, and its hull was below their feet from day one, so when they finally revealed it, and explored it, it felt invigorating. Rewarding. This ship, and the glorious feelings and thoughts it represents, have inspired to no end, and haven’t ended yet.

Honorable mentions:

Westley and Buttercup, The Princess Bride

Ooooh man I tell you what, it was really hard trimming this down to 10 for the list, and this one just barely didn’t make the cut, and that mainly because I have a sweet spot for animation and for warrior women, and this sweetness ain’t animated, and this damsel is as distressed as they get. And they don’t have a whole lot of chemistry? I don’t know how to measure that, but I feel like there was a lot of friendship stated that was never shown? Is it sacrilege to say that about True Love? I guess I’ve never exactly had True Love, so what do I know?

The entire plot centers around his devotion to her, and her love for him, and the lengths they go to for one another. He studies fencing and wrestling and wits and tactics for years on a pirate ship as he tried to return to her, and she refused the advances and the offers of an actual prince for as long as she could, even though she thought him dead, and was ready to kill herself when she knew him to be alive and not to be hers. And just such excellent action and characters and humor and story in the entire book surrounding it. Possibly an even better movie, somehow. Happy happy happy happy. They don’t make movies like this no more, why is that? Sad.

Endurance, Interstellar

Actually a pretty realistic design, all considering. They nailed the aesthetic, and the cinematography, and the feel.

It does lose points though, firstly because the shuttlecraft require a booster stage to make it into orbit when leaving Earth, but for the rest of the movie, whenever they’re landing on planets with similar gravity and atmosphere, they can just fly away like it’s no big deal, which is a big inconsistency, both with real life, and more importantly with itself. And how did an under-equipped and struggling space program put this thing in orbit in the first place, anyway? And why don’t their ships land on their asses like proper rockets? And why not tell the crew members the full plan before leaving? See, it’s little things like that, little inconsistencies made for the sake of fitting with story beats and simplifying it for the audience’s sake, that sours this ship for me. I don’t mind creative liberties, but actual plot holes? This thing has a few plot holes, and plot holes are absolutely yucky. So although most of this ship is very yummy, the yucky parts make it all yucky.

Yucky.

Plus its heavy cargo shuttles are about the least-aerodynamic things imaginable, and that’s also yucky, and there’s porcelain tiles in the stasis bay, like what?

Couldashouldawoulda been yummy.

The Hermes, The Martian

This ship. This friggin’ ship.

A beautiful ship. A well-conceived ship. A mathematically sound and engineered ship. It had so many many good ideas behind it. So much math went into calculating its thrust and orbital dynamics for this movie, so much work went into making it fit a contemporary space aesthetic, the panels, the heat sinks, the tanks, so much PRESENTATION I could KISS IT HMWA, but taken as a whole, engineering-wise, the whole ship falls flat on its face, because it just doesn’t fit together. It doesn’t make sense. Look at all those countless modules along its length. What do they do? They don’t do anything! It’s a quarter mile long, and it’s built for only 6 people? It’s meant to carry a lander? Where does the lander dock? Why are the useful airlocks so far off the center of gravity? Why does it have a cockpit? Why is the forward airlock so looooong? Why is the entire ship so loooooong? Why is the ring spinning so slowly? It’s not hard math to figure out how fast it needs to spin! You’re telling me you did ORBITAL DYNAMICS but not the SINGLE physics 101 equation needed to figure out how fast the ring needs to spin??

Btw, let’s talk about that rotating section in the middle! Think about the rotating section! That rotating section means that the front and the back of the ship aren’t actually connected! There’s just a pair of ring-shaped slip-slidey bearings bridging the ship’s middle, slip-slidey bearings that electricity, computer signals, and water and air pipes can’t cross. Why did they design it that way?? In the book the entire ship spun, which makes so much more sense! Why does it have solar panels when it has a reactor canonically capable of 40 times their output? Why are the fuel tanks so small? Why is it always facing prograde even when canonically burning retrograde? Why? WHY? BLRRRRGGGGGRGGGRGGG

In Conclusion, Ships Are Neat

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