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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

"The Untamed", but Jiggy has a white cat whom he tells everything.- May or may not be sentient or 'spiritual' like Fairy in the book. (From an idea I've thrown around with my friend @yraelviii)

ao3

He found the cat in Qinghe.

“What are you doing here?” Meng Yao said, crouching down to try to scoop out the little handful of white fluff underneath his cabinet only for it to bare its infantile fangs and him and hiss, moving its butt around as if it thought his fingers ought to be running in fear from its fearsome pounce. “How did you even get in here?”

The cat – a kitten, really, small and scrawny, dirty and covered in ashes as if it had just run out of a forge, but no less passionate for it – squirmed in his hand as he picked it up.

“Who owns you?” Meng Yao asked, and the cat hissed viciously as if to shout no one owns me!

Something about that echoed in Meng Yao’s heart – no one owns me, he thought – and so he fished up some extra meat from his plate, filled a small platter with water, and used the sleeve of an old outfit that needed to be taken to be laundered anyway to wipe the grey ash off of the cat’s white fur while it was distracted by sniffing suspiciously at the food and water that it ultimately declined to consume.

“Just this once,” he told it.

Doing good work will often only bring you more work, Meng Yao reflected, and so it was with the cat as much as with anything else. He still didn’t know how the cat managed to get into his rooms, and he sometimes dwelled on paranoid suspicions that there were hiding-holes in his chambers designed to allow others to spy on him, just as there had been in certain rooms in the brothel – though even at his worst moment of uncertainty and doubt he didn’t really think so. He knew that it wasn’t Nie Mingjue’s style even if Meng Yao had been someone important enough to care about, and anyway he didn’t question his own ability to discovery such a thing if it had really existed. He’d checked.

At any rate, however it kept getting into his rooms, the cat was now a regular presence there, lurking around.

It didn’t want to be petted and greeted all attempts to feed it with utter disdain, but despite its general standoffishness it seemed to like being in the same vicinity as Meng Yao, enjoying nothing more than to settle haughtily by the window in his room and watch over Meng Yao as if it thought he might get lost without its supervision.

Meng Yao thought it was probably someone’s pet gotten lost, or maybe even just a feral cat from outside (Qinghe had a fair number of them) that had figured out that it could access the good life by going inside, but it was very hard to sincerely worry over the ill-intentions of a cat, and he was already very busy.

If he didn’t need to care for it, then it wasn’t adding to his troubles. Let the cat sit where it liked!

Meng Yao had found that life in Qinghe was both different and similar to life in Yunping, the only life he had to compare it to, and it amused him to think of the great and righteous Nie sect as an overly large brothel, with the main difference being that they sold their strength where women sold their bodies. In both places there needed to be order, someone to sort things out and tell people where to put things and what to do; in both places Meng Yao, with his quick mind and excellent memory, his sense of understanding people and anticipating their needs, was utterly invaluable in arranging such things.

He had, admittedly, expected it to take a little more time to climb up to the top – the only person he couldn’t understand in this place was Nie Mingjue, who was far too easy to deceive and smiled at him like he really thought they were friends instead of just being master and servant, who appreciated his talents and told him so, who shrugged off his mistakes and had faith that he would do better, who ignored his status instead of lording it over him the way Meng Yao had expected him to. Even when he was angry, when he shouted and slammed his hands against things, Nie Mingjue never once mentioned Meng Yao’s background, and the only things he seemed to hold against him were his own mistakes.

Meng Yao still didn’t know why Nie Mingjue would act so rashly as to promote someone he had just met to a position as high as viceroy, much less actually trust him, but it didn’t really matter. However quixotic his method of reaching a place of power, he was here and his next task was to keep his place until he’d made a reputation for himself.

Part of that he did through his work, good critical work that people needed and which had always won him gratitude even if not respect, but the other part of it was in cultivation. That was the way in which the Nie sect was not like a brothel: you couldn’t just be clever, you couldn’t even just be beautiful - to be respected, you had to cultivate.

Not that wanting to cultivate was a problem for Meng Yao.

He’d always had a memory like a sponge and a body that obeyed his every wish, his childhood of mimicking the beautiful dances of his mother and her ‘sisters’ serving him well in transitioning to learning the sword even if he was years behind everyone else; his mother had bought a thousand fake cultivation manuals for him and he’d learned them all, each one of them more useless than the next, and now that he was here in the cultivation world at long last, he was finally, finally, finally able to cultivate for real.

Using Nie sect methods, of course, even if that wasn’t what he really wanted.

He’d started as soon as he could when he arrived, endlessly grateful that the Nie sect provided training sabers without cost, and he’d snuck one away back to his room so that he could practice on his own time, knowing it would take a long time to form his golden core. He’d debated with himself for a long time as to whether or not it was worth it to invest in a real one – if the training sabers were free, then real proper Nie sabers were somehow three times as expensive as the swords you could buy in the marketplace, and you could only put in a deposit without any notion of when you’d actually get the saber, apparently subject to the contrary dispositions of the spiritual weaponsmiths that made them.

In the end he decided to go for it more or less on a whim, emptying out his hard-built savings to place the order, even though he knew he would one day need to discard whatever they made for him in favor of a sword.

The Jin sect would accept him one day. He would make them.

(If the Nie sect cultivation style was good for one thing, he thought as he went through endless drills of slashing and thrusting, it was that you could work out your anger while you were doing it. There was nothing quite like imagining the face of someone you hated and then bringing down the practice saber in a vicious slash, and oh, but Meng Yao hated so very many people.)

The cat liked watching him train most of all, although Meng Yao suspected it was because seeing him jump around panting was funnier than watching him sit at his desk and gracefully write out letters. It would occasionally start purring, a sound a little like a crackling fire, and eventually Meng Yao got into the habit of going to run his fingers through its fur as a reward for himself when he successfully completed a training sequence.

After a while, he started talking to it, too.

“That commander,” Meng Yao said as he brought the training saber down. His real saber was still on the order, probably stalled purposefully; the smith assigned the task was probably one of the people that thought they were too good to deal with him because of who his mother was, and it’d all been a waste of money in the end. Completely a waste, even if Nie Mingjue had smiled so happily at him when he’d heard about Meng Yao placing the order, his eyes warm and soft and how had that man survived so long in this wretched world of politics and pain, didn’t he know he would always be deceived and betrayed?

Why should he be the exception to the rule, when everyone else had to suffer?

Meng Yao threw away the unhelpful thoughts and thrust the saber forward, as if piercing his invisible opponent straight through the chest.

“That commander.” He minutely corrected his form and stabbed again, this time as if piercing through the belly: a gut wound, a slow and awful way to die. “He’ll regret what he said to me.”

The cat’s purring intensified.

Meng Yao briefly had the wild thought that it approved.

“I just –” Another thrust. “– need to figure out –” An overhead slash. “– how.”

Meng Yao ended up taking the cat with him when he left Qinghe.

It probably was someone’s pet and he was opening himself up to a charge of stealing, a charge he wouldn’t be able to defend himself against now that he no longer had Nie Mingjue’s protection –

(Nie Mingjue who had wept tears and blood at what Meng Yao had done, betrayed at last after having finally encountered a deception he could not swallow, who had banished him from the Unclean Realm even after everything Meng Yao had done for him – who had, despite it all, still hidden an entire bag of gold and Meng Yao’s favorite Qinghe snacks in Meng Yao’s things with a short note claiming that it was for unpaid wages. As if Meng Yao had ever let a single pay period go by without claiming exactly what he was due. As if Nie Mingjue still cared despite throwing him out, as if he worried about how Meng Yao might live, as if he hadn’t given up the privilege of caring about things like that – )

He didn’t really care.

He wanted the cat, so he took it. It was the least Qinghe could do for him.

The cat spent all its time in his new rooms in the hotels he stayed out as he traveled: in his bedroom and study, the little gardens that, when available, he liked to use to train in the mornings and evenings. It would even follow him when he took a bath (although that was with great reluctance on the part of the cat, and only if Meng Yao were taking an especially long time in the bath and the cat was worried he’d drowned, yowling angrily as if it could revive him through the power of its voice). If it had once belonged to someone else, it now belonged to Meng Yao, and Meng Yao didn’t give away anything that was his.

“I’ve made worse mistakes,” he said defiantly to the cat, which blinked at him from its side of the carriage he’d used some of the gold to rent. “It’s only that I don’t want to review them in order to think of which ones those might be.”

The cat got up, stretched its back, and walked over to butt its head against Meng Yao’s hand before turning and going back to its spot by the window.

Meng Yao wasn’t sure if that was a sign of agreement or if the cat just thought there was a treat in his hand. Not that the cat had ever accepted treats from his hand.

He still wasn’t sure what the cat ate, actually, but he was sure the cat would make its feelings known now that they weren’t somewhere with a dependable kitchen, though he supposed there was always the possibility that it would start picking up hunting.

“Wen Chao said that they’d aimed at the Cloud Recesses,” Meng Yao said, deciding not to dwell on the things of the past. There was nothing he could do about it. Nothing he could do about Nie Mingjue’s betrayed eyes or the snacks he hadn’t even known Nie Mingjue had known he’d liked, about the hand-me-down guans and trinkets that Nie Huaisang had insisted were part of his wardrobe when he’d helped him pack even though he knew Nie Huaisang still wore them sometimes, about the fact that he should have been ordered to take the Nie sect’s braids out of his hair when he passed by the gates for the final time since he didn’t deserve them anymore but the two disciples there had just nodded at him and let him pass without a word – nothing to do about the saber he’d ordered, still on the list to be made, and maybe if he made something of himself out in the world alone he would one day come back to claim it at last. “That’s where we’re going now. Lan Xichen might be in danger. I have to help him.”

The cat made a sound like it was considering hacking up a hairball.

“He was kind to me,” Meng Yao said, feeling defensive. “The only one who never judged me –”

Since he’d decided to forget about Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang, wiping it out of his mind as if it had never been, that was even true.

“– and he’s a proper gentleman, a good man. I’ll help him.”

That Lan Xichen was also a powerful man was something he wished he didn’t think of, but he couldn’t help the way he was.

“After I help him, I’ll figure out what to do next,” Meng Yao said, like a liar, and the cat looked at him like he was stupid – which he was being, because of course he’d already planned out what to do next, figured out his next move, and there was no point in lying to a cat about it. Meng Yao had skills that were only useful in management, not labor, and the only thing he left to sell was information about the sect from which he’d just been ejected. “No one owns me, right? Let it be the Wen sect.”

The cat did not purr, but it didn’t condemn him, either.

That would have to do.

It was a good thing that Meng Yao’s cat was self-sufficient, he thought, because he had neither the time nor the stomach to feed it during his time at the Wen sect.

If he had thought he had worked hard at the Nie sect, he now knew differently: at least there the worst he had faced from his colleagues had been disdain and not outright murder attempts, back-stabbing and undercutting to try to show off to Wen Ruohan, and all the while the man himself demanded more and more from him without the slightest care for his own well-being. He was grist to the mill for Wen Ruohan, no matter how much the Chief Cultivator enjoyed having another man’s prized deputy as his own – Wen Ruohan might had been very nearly driven insane by the Yin Metal, but he still remembered old grudges – and it was night and day away from Nie Mingjue’s reliance on him that was based on trust, rather than reluctantly satisfied suspicion and paranoia.

Meng Yao had hidden the cat as best as he could from the start, thinking rightfully that people would try to use it against him, and to his relief it seemed that no one else had yet laid eyes on it and identified it as his own, despite its white fur standing out like a beacon to his sight. Unfortunately there were some people that had managed to figure out that he had a cat, even if they didn’t lay eyes on it themselves, and he’d had more than a few incidents in which someone had left poisoned meat out on the floor by his room in order to catch it.

The cat seemed as unimpressed with that as anything else.

Instead, the cat seemed to have taken up hunting as its pastime. It brought back the corpses of small birds, the Yin Metal-infused little spies, full of resentful energy, that Wen Ruohan had developed for his sons to use. At first Meng Yao worried about the cat getting somehow poisoned by them, but time went on and it seemed to be fine, even thriving. It had grown into a proper cat now, no longer a kitten, and it enjoyed licking its white and shining fur until it was gleaming.

It didn’t like Meng Yao’s training sessions as much – he trained with a sword now, two-faced just like him, and in a dozen different styles, Wen and Jiang and Jin, always Jin – so sometimes Meng Yao would go back to doing the old Nie sect style again, knowing the cat would recognize the familiar movements, and it was a surefire way to get the cat to purr.

The Nie sect style was also still the best for getting out anger, all aggression and sharp movements, and Meng Yao still had a lot of anger inside of him. He was starting to think he always would.

At least here in the Nightless City he could kill the people he hated, as long as he did so in low and dirty ways that didn’t trouble Wen Ruohan or interfere with his plans, and yet every time he did it, he felt no relief, only a vile and wretched stickiness that came, perhaps, from that awful Yin Metal that he had schemed over yet couldn’t seem to escape.

The cat didn’t like the Yin Metal one bit. It hissed and scratched, and in one notable incident seemed like it was going to pounce on it directly if Meng Yao hadn’t caught it mid-leap and shoved it into his sleeve before anyone had noticed it.

“You’re going to get me into trouble,” Meng Yao told the cat next time he trained, using the soft sword he’d hidden away for a time of need to hack and slash in the Nie way, which didn’t work with a soft sword at all but which made him feel strangely better. He was currently imagining Wen Ruohan’s head underneath a saber, his head and the heads of all those corpse puppets he’d created. “I will cut you loose if you do that.”

The cat rolled onto its back and showed its soft and fluffy belly, which only the truly unwise would seek to lay a hand on – Meng Yao still had scars – and Meng Yao rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, I know,” he said. “No one owns you, not even me. But do me a favor and don’t screw this up for me. Not when I’m so close.”

Lan Xichen had been accepting his letters and feeding them to Nie Mingjue, who trusted as blindly as he ever did. Meng Yao wished sometimes that he didn’t, that he would learn, that he would put some defenses up on that stupid reckless heart of his, but on the other hand it suited his plans very well that he didn’t.

Soon, he thought. Soon.

Soon he’d know what he needed to do.

“Now he chooses not to trust people,” Meng Yao complained to his cat. “Now. Now!”

The cat purred.

It wasn’t that Meng Yao (damnit, Jin Guangyao, he had a new name, he was Jin Guangyao now) couldn’t understand Nie Mingjue’s reluctance to trust him – fool me once, fool me twice, but three times seemed to be the other man’s breaking point – and in some ways he understood it more than ever now that he had been accepted back by the Jin sect, clothed in the gold he’d always deserved to wear.

Jin Guangshan hadn’t lost much in the war, not like the other sects, and the second it was over he was already scheming. Meng Yao – Jin Guangyao – was pulled right into the thick of it at once, less for his spying capability than for his sheer disposability, the fact that Jin Guangshan wasn’t willing to burden his pure and righteous heir with black matters that he was more than happy to taint the son of his whore with. With Nie Mingjue, general and hero of the Sunshot Campaign, representing the only real threat to the Jin sect’s domination, even if he didn’t want to be, Jin Guangyao was bound to be in opposition to him.

It made sense for Nie Mingjue not to trust him.

It irritated him regardless.

Still, lack of trust or no, Nie Mingjue had succumbed to Lan Xichen’s impassioned arguments and had agreed to swear brotherhood with him, even if Jin Guangyao suspected that Nie Mingjue’s primary motivation was to keep a better eye on him and scold him the way he did Nie Huaisang. It would be politically beneficial to Jin Guangyao to be tied in such a way to Nie Mingjue – it would suit his own desires as well, though that was less important – and so he had of course agreed as well, and he was planning on going to their oath ceremony in the outfit he had chosen for himself, gold from neck to foot, a sword he’d taken from the treasury since no one would order him one of his own, and a hat on his head like the ones his mother so admired to make up for his lack of height and to hide the Nie sect braids he still habitually wore underneath.

An old habit, and one he really ought to break, really. Ideally before Nie Mingjue figured it out and told him to cut it out.

There was a knock on the door, a familiar pounding, and the cat looked up, intrigued, even as Jin Guangyao sighed voicelessly to himself. Perhaps he had waited too long.

Perhaps it would be better to make a clean cut in this way, too.

He opened the door.

“Sect Leader Nie,” he greeted, thinking to himself that it would only be a few more hours before he was entitled to call the man da-ge as if they were nearly equals and how strange that would be. “Can this humble one help you?”

“Can I come in?” Nie Mingjue asked gruffly, his eyes lingering on Jin Guangyao’s uncovered and Nie-braided hair, just as he might have expected. Had expected.

Jin Guangyao nodded and stepped back, allowing him in, and closed the door behind him. “Could I get the sect leader some refreshments?” he asked politely, but Nie Mingjue seemed to have come to a stop right in the entranceway, surprise written all over his features. “Sect Leader Nie?”

Nie Mingjue was staring at Jin Guangyao’s cat.

“…Sect Leader Nie?”

Did Nie Mingjue not like cats? There were an endless number of feral cats in Qinghe, so it seemed implausible, and yet, here Nie Mingjue was, looking at the cat like he’d never seen such a thing before in its life.

Of course, at that exact moment, Jin Guangyao’s cat, the traitor, hopped off its pillow and went straight to rub itself against Nie Mingjue’s leg, purring like a little maniac.

Jin Guangyao stared at it, feeling thoroughly betrayed by what he would have previously said was his thoroughly unsociable cat, who had taken years to warm up to him enough to give him half the attention it was now bestowing freely on Nie Mingjue. Was this the heavens deciding to mock him for his earlier betrayals?

Alternatively, Nie Mingjue might just be very good with cats, which Jin Guangyao could believe. Perhaps he even carried in his pockets some of the Qinghe vine that cats were said to be so enamored of, although certainly Meng Yao’s cat had never once before shown an interest in such things before.

“…what’s its name?” Nie Mingjue croaked, voice hoarse. He was still staring fixedly at the cat, looking as though his entire world had shattered around him. He hadn’t even looked so unsettled when Jin Guangyao had so viciously mocked him at the Nightless City, and at the time he’d thought he was going to die and be turned into a corpse puppet to murder all his loved ones.

Jin Guangyao was tempted to say something rude or facetious, something like ‘I just call it Cat, why, do you name random cats?’, but the cat had been a good companion of his for a long time now and he couldn’t do that to it, even if he was currently planning on taking an extra long bath to force the cat to miserably linger by the door to the bathing room, screeching in unhappiness at the wet, but bravely (if grumpily) supervising him to make sure he didn’t drown.

“Hensheng,” he said, because that was in fact what he’d named it – it meant hatred for life, which was not exactly an auspicious name but which had stuck from the very moment he had thought it up – and waited to hear Nie Mingjue’s judgment. “It’s not normally quite so sticky,” he added in an attempt to save some face. “With most people.”

“Well, it’s me, that’s different,” Nie Mingjue said, and maybe the man really was just the human incarnation of the plant cats liked so much. Meng Yao really wouldn’t put it past him. “You...you cultivate in the Nie sect style? Still?”

Jin Guangyao blinked, surprised by the change in subject.

“Yes,” he said, a little hesitantly. He cultivated many styles now, although it was always the Jin sect style when he was in public. But he still had all the anger in his belly to vent – even more so now than before, anger at his father, anger at Madame Jin, anger at his brother born to a blessed life, anger at all those disciples that sneered at him even after he’d been legitimized, anger, anger, anger – and the Nie sect style had always been the best for that.

And anyway, it made the cat purr.

“Is that a problem, Sect Leader Nie?” he asked.

“Not at all,” Nie Mingjue said, and when he turned to look at him his eyes were warm and soft the way they’d been all the way before the fiasco with Xue Yang, shimmering with tears of joy and a smile that seemed to come straight from his heart, the foolish easily deceived man. It was so unexpected that Jin Guangyao actually took a full two steps back, his jaw dropping a little. “I’m happy for you. Very happy.”

He actually wiped at his eyes with his sleeve, dashing away the tears.

“You should come back to the Unclean Realm to pick it up when the brotherhood ceremony is done,” he added nonsensically. “I can’t imagine how long it’s been waiting for you.”

“…what?” Jin Guangyao said. “Pick up what?”

“Hensheng,” Nie Mingjue said, which – what? “Your saber. Hensheng.”

His saber?

The saber he’d never gotten, having been banished from the Unclean Realm before the order was finished, the one he’d spent all his savings on just in putting in the deposit, the one he’d never actually finished paying off? He remembered it, of course, and sometimes it still itched under his skin that he’d never gotten what he was owed because everything that was owed to him he deserved to get in the end. But…

“Hensheng is my cat,” he said.

Nie Mingjue blinked at him. “That’s not a cat,” he said. “That’s a saber spirit.”

Jin Guangyao’s gaze dropped down to the cat.

The cat that never seemed to eat anything or drink anything, that never once fell for the poisoned meat or accepted his offers of treats, that no one in the Nightless City had ever seen with their own eyes; the cat that could consistently get into his rooms despite there being no holes for it to enter, as if it had simply passed through the walls like a ghost.

Like a spirit.

The cat, which purred whenever Jin Guangyao practiced the Nie sect forms, swinging a saber with rage in his heart.

The cat to which he had confessed all his anger, all his frustration, all his rage, all the feelings he never gave to any human being around him – the sabers of the Nie sect thrived on such emotions, those feelings that encouraged them and strengthened them, developing the saber spirits that made each one of them a spiritual weapon unlike any other, with power and rage infused into the very blade.

Saber spirits, which only those born into the Nie sect or adopted early, raised in their ways, one of them, could form.

“A saber spirit?” Jin Guangyao said weakly, and his knees suddenly didn’t seem strong enough to hold him; he swayed and Nie Mingjue stepped forward quickly, catching him by the shoulders to steady him. “I cultivated a saber spirit?”

“The saber is back in the Unclean Realm,” Nie Mingjue said, not without kindness. “It was only ever waiting for you to pick it up once you developed the spirit, so that you could introduce the two.”

“It hasn’t been – I would have thought it would have been thrown away, or repurposed –”

“It’s a Nie saber, Meng Yao. It won’t obey anyone else ever again, not in this life; it is yours, yours alone. When one day you die, it will be buried with honor in our saber halls, just like all the others.”

The cat looked up at him and purred.

No one owns me, Jin Guangyao thought – the first thing the cat had said to him, and he’d always had a good understanding of what the cat wanted from the very first. No one had owned that wild spirit then, but it had stayed by his side, at first from curiosity and later from habit, and it was his now.

His, and no one else’s.

“Will you come pick it up?” Nie Mingjue asked, hope in his eyes. “Will you come home, if only for a little while?”

“Yes,” Jin Guangyao said. “Yes, I will.”

Later, Jin Guangshan told his son to kill Nie Mingjue, that fool who trusted too much and didn’t know when he was being deceived, finding him in his rigidity and righteousness too much of a burden on the power he planned to wield.

Jin Guangyao bowed as deep as he could, a smile on his lips, saying nothing, and the next day, when Jin Guangshan went to the brothel as he always did, drinking tea served by his son the way he always did, he never did figure out why his heart had stopped.

(The saber Jin Guangyao began to wear openly after the funeral – a gift from his sworn brother, he said with a smile, in remembrance of his time at the Nie sect – purred in pure satisfaction.)

#mdzs #jin guangyao #meng yao #nie mingjue #my fic #my fics #unawakened #prompter I have no idea what you were looking for #and it's probably not this #but this is what came to mind #omgpurplefattie

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beneathstarryskies · 3 years

Note

I sincerely loved that Madara SFW post (even though I wasn't the one who requested it) 🥰🥰 I'm really just... curious about either Itachi's or Indra's SFW habits 👀 would it be possible to have that alphabet post on either one (of your choice, of course!) Thank you so muuuuch!!!

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Itachi is very affectionate in private, but not so much in public. In public he will always hold your hand, and soothe his thumb along your knuckles. That’s as far as it goes though, he’ll be a blushing mess if you kiss him in public. When you’re together at home, he will kiss you sweetly every chance he gets. He always wants to have his hands on you somehow. Itachi loves playing with your hair and nuzzling into it to (discreetly) sniff you.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Itachi would be a very good best friend, but he’s definitely the best friend who won’t admit that’s what’s going on. He acts like it’s just a coincidence that he’s always the first person to offer support when you need help or that he wants to hang out a lot. He’ll get a bit embarrassed when someone points out the closeness between you.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

There’s nothing he loves more than holding you in his arms. He’s not even picky about the position. He will just pull you as close as he can in whatever position is comfy for you both, usually hooking his legs around your to keep you close.

He prefers to be the big spoon because he likes to feel protective of you. However, at times he wants to be held close. He’ll curl up against your chest, and might accidentally let out a purring sound if you start playing with his hair.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Itachi loves the idea of settling down, and certainly daydreams about it a lot. He’s just not super invested in the idea, because he doesn’t see why anyone would want to settle down with him with his past. That being said, he’d make an excellent husband. He cooks and cleans, and is very good at it. Most of the time he’ll take care of all the chores without you asking, and if you express feeling guilty he’ll give some vague reply like “it’s the least I could do.”

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Itachi is at his core a very kind man, but he’s also pragmatic. He’ll break things off as smoothly as possible, going above and beyond to spare your feelings. He doesn’t want you to despair too much over him.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Itachi has no issue at all with commitment. He is more than open to being with you for the rest of his life, but he would keep those feelings close to his chest. Itachi would want to play it safe, especially at first. He’d likely have those strong feelings for you very early on (because nobody simps like an Uchiha.)

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Itachi is extremely gentle with you, especially physically. Sometimes when he reaches out to touch you, it’s as though he’s scared you’ll break or disappear like a mirage. He gets better with this as you become more comfortable with your relationship, but he’s always going to maintain a certain tenderness.

Emotionally, he’s similarly careful in how he handles you. Although at times when he tries to offer advice, he can come off as harsh. He’ll always make sure you know these aren’t his intentions. Usually he is right in his advice.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Itachi gives very warm, intimate hugs. One hand will rest on your lower back while the other is between your shoulders. His face will nuzzle against you. You can literally feel him just relax in your arms. He loves hugs, and wants them a lot.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He’s going to want to say it very quickly, but he’ll keep it to himself for a long time. Definitely Itachi would develop a deep love for you very quickly. He’s gonna wait for you to say it first, most likely.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Itachi isn’t a very jealous person. He wouldn’t be with you if he didn’t trust you implicitly. Sometimes if he feels insecure, it can present itself as jealousy. He’ll get to thinking about how you deserve someone with less emotional baggage, and then maybe see you with a friend and it just burns him up inside. As soon as you look at him and your eyes light up with love and adoration, he’ll forget all about it though.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Itachi is a very slow, precise, but very passionate kisser. Every kiss on your mouth is an attempt to channel all of his feelings for you through the gesture. He is very prone to kissing you anywhere his lips can reach. His favorite place to kiss you (besides your lips) is your forehead or temple. Just a sweet kiss to remind you that he’s there for you always. When holding his hand, he’ll often lift your hand to kiss your hand, sometimes even taking the time to kiss each of your fingertips.

Itachi likes being kissed anywhere. He’s just so grateful for your love, but is also a little bit needy. He wants to be peppered in kisses everywhere. His lips, his whole face, chest, hands, all of it. He just craves affection.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

A little awkward at first, but he warms up pretty quickly. He is very careful with children and treats them with a lot of gentleness. He doesn’t want to repeat the mistakes he made with Sasuke.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Itachi is always going to be awake first. If it’s not too early in the morning, he’ll usually curl himself into you for some lazy snuggles. He’ll wake you up by peppering soft kisses on your face.

If he wakes up very early (maybe because of a nightmare) he’ll usually sneak away. He’ll have coffee and breakfast ready for you when he wakes up. The two of you will talk over breakfast, sometimes he’ll tell you about what has him up so early. Usually, he prefers to listen to you talk about what your plans are for the day.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Itachi adores quiet nights with you. He’s happy just to be around you even if you’re both doing your own things. He likes to lay on the sofa with his head in your lap while he reads, and your fingers twirl through his hair while you either read along with him or watch television.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

It will take Itachi a while to reveal things about himself. He wants to know he can trust you completely before he begins opening up to you. That being said he will take his time revealing things to you. Preferring to open up a little at a time so as to not bog you down with too much at once.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He’s not very easily angered, especially not with you. Itachi is more likely to pull the whole “not mad, but disappointed.” If he is angry with you, he does tend to fall into the silent treatment. Not so much as a way to punish you, rather to avoid saying things he might regret.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Itachi remembers everything.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The first time you kissed him. It was sort of out of the blue. When you pulled away your cheeks were so flushed and your eyes were blown so wide while you stammered out an apology. He just pulls you back in for another kiss, because he finally knew that you cared for him as much as he did you.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He is very protective, and would die for you without question. However, he doesn’t want you protecting him. He would never allow you to put yourself in harm’s way for him.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He would put a lot of effort into planning out romantic dates to celebrate special occasions. He will be as extravagant as possible for every single date, anniversary, and birthday. But Itachi is also in it for everyday things as well. You truly are partners in life.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Itachi’s worst habit is drawing into himself when he feels overwhelmed or depressed. He’ll pull away from you and isolate himself. Sometimes even recoiling if you try to reach out. He requires a lot of patience and understanding with this.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He’s not overly vain about anything except his hair. He takes very good care of it, and is very proud of how healthy it is.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Absolutely. Itachi felt so hopeless before you came into his life. The thought of losing you is enough to drive him insane.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Itachi is a wonderful cook, and loves to prepare meals for you. He also sees it as a way of taking care of you, and he is very nurturing.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Itachi likes things being clean and tidy. He wouldn’t like the house being overly messy. He will happily help you keep things clean if you’re not good at it.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Itachi has terrible sleep habits. He often will go long periods without sleep to avoid his nightmares, and then when he does finally sleep he just crashes anywhere out of exhaustion. You’ve found him a lot on the couch or even sitting at the kitchen table with his head down.

#itachi uchiha x reader #itachi alphabet #itachi uchiha #itachi #i am back bitches

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aggressive-positivity-network · 3 years

Note

do any of the mercs play board games?

Mercopoly (Board Game

Headcanons)

Scout:

You think he has enough of an attention span to play something that doesn’t involve sweating out his energy drinks?

Hell no!

He gets very bored very quickly, especially with something complex like chess.

He’ll play cards sometimes, but only Crazy Eights and Go Fish - that’s all he knows how to play.

However, there is one true board game he plays occasionally: Candy Land.

It’s one of the few board games that you don’t really have to read the rules for, and there isn’t any writing on the cards.

However, he only asks to play it when he’s not feeling very well.

Medic even has a page in his medical journal for the mercs that says, and I quote:

“The Scout has an extremely short attention span, and if an activity isn’t active or immersive, he will not stay long. If at any point he chooses a sedentary activity, a check-up is in order.”

As sad as it is, a request to play Candyland is a good way to know if Scout needs a little extra reassurance or support.

By the end of the game, Scout usually feels more himself, whether he wins or not.

Engie is especially good with Scout when he’s this way, being the one of the most emotionally sensitive of the group. But he also knows Scout would never admit straight-away how he was feeling, so he usually has a more fun way of getting answers.

“You feelin’ more like a King Candy or a Lord Licorice?”

“...Fudge Monster.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Yeah...”

Spy:

If you ask him, he will most likely go off on a tangent about chess, and how it’s a game of strategy, deception, and crushing your enemy with your wit.

He scoffs at any other game, and constantly makes fun of several of his more intelligent peers for finding interest in them.

“You are mercenaries. Blood-thirsty killers of men. And you are playing ‘Hungry, Hungry Hippos’ like a hoarde of kindergartners?”

But one thing he cannot resist is Sorry.

He considers it above normal board games because it has strategy - or at least that what he says.

He actually just likes it because it’s a game of revenge, which is like a drug to him.

He’s gotten so good at it that if he asks you to play Sorry with him, it’s almost guaranteed that he’s mad at you and just wants to let off some steam by giving you a horrendous loss. However, occasionally, he’s the one who loses.

Spy isn’t a poor sport, exactly - he’s too cultured for that - but sometimes his pride outweighs his manners and he convinces himself that the other player cheated through made up signs of deception.

He simply “allows” them to win because he “doesn’t want to make a fuss.”

But god help the unfortunate soul who decides to rub their win in his face.

Sniper had won five games in a row, and it was clear Spy was getting hot under the collar.

Sniper ended their games with a mischievous, “You’ll get ‘em next time, tiger.” and a small pat on his shoulder.

Spy immediately saw red, grabbed Sniper’s hand, and before the aussie knew it, he was against a concrete wall with a butterfly knife to his throat.

“I could kill you right now. Your final cry for Medic will be drowned in blood, and I would leave you here to die a painful, dramatic death. You’ll be replaced with a rusted trash can of a bot until they could grow another clone of you. Every memory will be gone. The team will be shrouded in grief, not because of losing you, but losing what the clone can never have. And I shall bide my time, ask the clone to play the same game, and kill them when they win. Another clone, another kill. And again. And again. And again. You think the Manns give a damn as long as their work is getting done? You will never be able to form a single thought before I spill your blood - caught in an eternal prisoner’s dilemma where you always lose.”

After gathering his bearings, Sniper finally spoke.

“Is this about your takeout?”

Spy scoffed.

“Do you really think - !”

“Tonight, my treat if you don’t kill me.”

Spy squinted.

“Egg rolls?”

“And an extra order of crab rangoon.”

“Your treat?”

“Yep.”

“How do I know you won’t poison me?”

“Chemical test before and after the food arrives.”

“How do I know Medic isn’t in on it?”

“Miss Pauling as a witness and Scout as an overseer. Pauling’s main objective is to keep us alive, and Scout can’t do bloody anything subtle, even if he wanted to. You can also play back the cameras in the lab, if the mood really struck ya.”

Spy held Sniper against the wall for a minute or two while he thought it all over, then let Sniper fall to the ground.

“I don’t need your sympathy, bushman. But you had better keep your end of the deal. I am the only backstabber around here.”

Demo:

Can’t even stay awake long enough to play most board games.

On the rare chance that he’s sober, he, Engie, and Medic like to play Monopoly.

Here’s the thing: you should never ask a drunkard, an engineer, and a sadist genius to play Monopoly together. It will not end well.

They have been playing the same game for years, with new rules in place and physical extensions to the board in order to try and end the game. Every other Friday, they take the weekend to try and finish it.

However, it all ends up fruitless.

Demo is usually the one keeping the peace, since he is the least competitive out of the three. That isn’t to say he isn’t clawing for the win as much as the other two, but he is definitely the least invested. He’s mostly staying out of principle.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned, ‘s ta ne’er give up, e’en when the goin’s gettin’ tough. Roll the dice, doc.”

Despite his confidence, he’s not even sure what he would do if he or anyone else won. It would seem more like a relief than a celebration.

Medic:

He’s the one who started the Eternal Monopoly game, which has led to some theories that the game itself came straight from hell, and is one of the many punishments used on sinners. The box does smell a bit of brimstone…

He seems to enjoy the chaos that each round brings and the challenge of coming up with new rules to the game. To any outsider, his commentary and directions are complete nonsense.

“According to zhe ‘Calvinball Rule,’ as stated by Engineer, and the ‘Double Kill,’ as stated by myself, since the current time ends vis a three and ve all received at least two kills zhis veek, ve need to double every other roll and whomever loses zhe resulting game of ‘Bim Bum’ vill have to go to zhe Purple Jail.”

The rules and mechanics are like an unholy amalgamation of Monpoly, Sorry, chess, D&D, Bluff, and poker.

However, when Medic isn’t stapling pages of rules together, he likes to play a nice, relaxing game of checkers with Heavy.

Both of them are excellent checker players, but neither of them care who wins.

In fact, they usually talk over the game, taking the other player’s pieces as one of them shares a story from that day’s battle.

They’ve even played while Heavy was in surgery - leading to many unfortunate times when Medic had to fish a piece out of Heavy’s intestines.

One would think that a genius doctor would also have a passion for chess, but he expresses his disdain for it almost every time the checker board is brought out.

“Ach, people think chess is such an intelligent sport. Let me tell you, liebling, it is terribly overrated. If zhe devil can play chess, anyvun can. He might as vell just give souls avay, vis those shaky claws of his.”

Engineer:

Being the engineer, he is usually the one to add to the Eternal Monopoly.

Pieces, board extensions, cards, trivia - it gives him a nice break from all the weaponry.

He’s usually the one who remembers all the mechanics and rules, and serves as the judge if rules contradict each other.

“Alright, now let’s see here…we’ve got the Infinity Loop over here, but now you’ve got the Time Travel card…how many years? Infinite? Ho boy…looks like I’m gonna have to add a Hilbert’s Hotel square somewhere. Hold on…”

Despite his affinity for Eternal Monopoly, Engineer will play almost any board game. He learns new rules and figures quickly, and enjoys the challenges that brings.

However, if he’s particularly burnt out, he likes to take a break by playing Jenga. He and Spy have a friendly rivalry, since Engie can tell which blocks are supporting and Spy has quick fingers.

Spy, oddly, is a lot more amiable losing in Jenga - he knows Engie won’t think less of him - but Engineer hates when the bricks fall over. Not because it means he lost, but because, to him, it’s a failure on his part…even if it was someone else that knocked it over.

He’s made several blueprints for the perfect Jenga game, but has concluded that no human hand could put it into practice.

During one particularly bad day, Engie bumped the table, causing the whole column to come crashing down. Spy had already recovered from the noise, but Engie was still standing there, stone-faced.

His eyes were covered by his goggles, but it was clear he was crying.

Several of his machines had broken on the job, and to him, this was just another egregious mistake.

Spy carefully put the blocks back in the container, and Engie came to his senses.

“I’m real sorry, Spy. Maybe another time…?”

Spy only nodded. He was thinking.

The next time they played, Spy brought out a different container.

Instead of wood, the bricks seemed to be made of a sturdy foam.

“They fall a bit more…quietly,” Spy explained. He dropped one, and it only made a small bouncing sound. “Pyro uses these, but they allowed me to borrow it.”

Engie was a bit skeptical at first, since it was a new material, but he got the hang of it rather quickly. He was almost ecstatic the first time it fell - the blocks barely made any sound at all!

After a few games, Spy had to leave for an assignment. Engie put a hand on their arm.

“Thank ya, Spy. Maybe you ain’t the cold-blooded backstabber I thought you were.”

Spy chuckled, but said little else. He didn’t want to admit that noise sensitivity plagued him as well.

Pyro:

Pyro loves board games, and has quite the collection in their room.

Each plastic piece is at least a little melted, and all the boxes have two or three scorch marks.

Hungry Hungry Hippos, Candyland, and Uno are among her favorites.

He is an absolute beast at Uno, though.

They take each game very seriously, especially when they can convince the whole team to play.

As you can imagine, it’s pure chaos - it even led to a rule in the Merc Guidebook: “When playing Uno with three or more players with the inclusion of a Pyro, at least one Mann Co. representative and/or a mediating Medic must be present.”

Pyro has been known the hide cards, bribe players, or even try to set flame to competition. Playing Uno is almost like a mission, with weapon preparation and Spy posing as other players.

The mercs even have a betting stand that Sniper runs. All parties have lost a lot of money that way.

It’s pretty much the only time outside of battle that the team remembers how cruel and malicious Pyro can be.

Sniper:

Conventional board games aren’t exactly his forté, but he does enjoy a bit of cards every once in a while - Solitaire being his favorite.

He even has a pack of cards in his Sniper Square for that exact purpose. It allows him the pass the time without having to look away from his targets too often.

On occasion, he could be pressed to play poker, but only if the stakes weren’t monetary (i.e candy pieces, crackers, duties, etc.).

His favorite part of every match is shuffling the cards. Pretty much every merc could shuffle cards, but Sniper could make them almost float with how quick his fingers and wrists moved. He always began the game with a new trick he learned, which delighted his fellow players (usually Spy, Engineer, Medic, and Demo).

You could always tell if he had a busy day because he would avoid tricks with too much movement, which would be murder on his sore fingers and hands.

Pyro is currently learning card tricks from Sniper, and show off what they learn at the beginning of every Uno game.

Heavy:

He isn’t a huge fan of the bright, plastic-y board games that Pyro has, although he will play them if asked.

It’s mostly because of how complicated the rules are and the fact there are almost never a Russian translation for the directions.

He always prefers checkers, cards, or mancala, which he almost exclusively plays with Medic because he’s the only one who speaks fluent Russian.

Heavy can play a mean game of mancala, though, and it’s the only game he can beat Medic at.

Soldier:

The only games he will play are Battleship and Uno - but only after Miss Pauling convinced him it was “American enough” because the game had red, white, and blue cards.

He prefers the electronic Battleship because of the sound effects and voices. However, if it’s out of batteries, he’ll make his own sound effects.

Miss Pauling is the best at pretending to be a commander, so she’s usually the one playing with him - but, sometimes, Demo gets in on the action, too.

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bonny-kookoo · 3 years

Text

Bunny Boy Cases: “how far would you go?” (⚠️❤️☁️🔪) JJK x Reader

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Yandere!AU, Psycho!AU, Angst, Romance, Mature!

Tags/Warnings: Strong Yandere themes, Stockholm Syndrome, Our favorite psycho boy, drowning, Suffocation, twisted romance, very dark themes, please read with caution!

Summary: Do you love him?

I do not condone this behavior at all. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction. Thank you.

Jungkook knew of your love for the sea. Of course he did; there was barely anything he didn't know by now about you.

He also knew exactly how to keep you at his side by now.

Of course you were dependent on him- he never let you out by yourself after all. He was the hand that fed you, that cared for you, that gave you comfort and punishment when needed. But you were also, deep down, very smart. You knew this was not what a normal relationship was like- which was why he guilt-tripped you whenever he could.

And it wouldn't even be a lie.

There was no hope to survive for him, not without you.

So there you two were, in his car, with him driving, and you at his side. You were excited, but you so adorably tried to hide it. He could however spot your leg umping up and down a few millimeters every now and then- and the look you threw out the window, the way your spine straightened, told him the truth about your feelings. "Excited, Angel?" He asks with a chuckle, and you sit down a little smaller in your seat.

He loves to see the effect he has on you.

"It's okay for you to be." He states, feeling your gaze on him. "After all.. it's been a while that we've been out, right?" He says, voice a bit wavering and paired with a sheepish smile to portray you that he's feeling guilty about it. He isn't.

"no no!" You say, and he let's a sigh slip- not necessarily to feed the idea of his bad feelings, but out of bliss. He bathes in the fact that you're so bewitched by him; and its only fair like this, isn't it? After all, you do the same to him. Luckily for him, you take his exhale as what it wasn't intended. "Seriously Koo, I understand. I'm happy we'll have a vacation together!" you say, and he smiles. His arm reaches out, running over your hair as if to pet a dog- and you don't even see the demeaning gesture as that. You simply take it, smile, and he couldn't be more glad about it.

You've truly become his.

Parking his car, he's happy to notice that you wait for him to open your car door instead of doing it yourself. He does so of course, watching with hawk eyes how you shrink in on yourself as soon as your shoe steps onto the pavement outside. You're so unsure, so small, so vulnerable- every second glance you take is directed at him, and he feels euphoric about it.

This is only for your safety. He's only helping you. He's keeping you safe. He's protecting you.

Jungkook doesn't have to unpack much stuff- you're not going to stay at a hotel anyways. Firstly because he can't afford it no matter how badly he want's to, and secondly, because he doesn't trust hotel rooms. What if there are spy cams installed? He knows himself, after all, how easy they are installed and hidden. There's no way he's gonna take on that risk.

Your sleeping body was for his eyes only.

"Where can I change, koo?" You ask, and he smiles at you, pulling out a towel.

"Right here Angel." He says, finding the scandalized look on your face amusing. "I'll hold the towel around you; it's not like I haven't seen you before now, is it?" He hums the last part with something alike to a purr lacing his voice. It makes you shy, paints your cheeks red, and he can't swallow down his chuckle that escapes him. Hesitantly you let him hold the towel as you avoid his gaze.

He's become very patient, he notices. His self control has gone up significantly these past months- because if he looks back on your relationship, there were surely times where he could have never stared at your exposed flesh without giving into the urge of ravishing you on the spot. Maybe it's the still slightly visibly bite marks on your collarbones that soothe his inner demons to stay calm- he may never know. But once you have changed into a bathing set that can only be described as sinful, he wraps the towel around you. "Keep it like this Angel. Don't want you to be seen like this, okay?" He says, and you nod.

"Can you tie my hair up for me?" You ask, and he smiles brightly at this. Every request you have for him he bows down to.

"Of course." He says, accepting the hair tie you give him, and softly turns you around so he can collect all of your hair into one hand. He's careful, gentle, it's quite hard to imagine the things he's done with these hands.

The things he's capable of.

But you swallow these thoughts down, simply letting yourself be swept away by the moment itself. It's been so long since you've last been outside this much. You want to keep this as a good memory to yourself; after all, who knows when the next time will be?

Jungkook himself doesn't seem to care much about who could see him- having put on his swimming trunks underneath his sweatpants already before he had started driving, he's quick to change. He closes the car, the driver's door needing a second attempt to close properly before he can lock it properly. He should really invest into a new one, he knows that- but cars are expensive, and he can fix it himself anyways.

He'll keep it until its broken.

Just like he keeps you at his side, while walking towards the small hidden spot that he had scouted out for the two of you. There's not many people currently swimming; after all, he had done his research. It was a Monday, and the time was perfect too. Everyone else was at work or home- the perfect timing for him and you to have some time just for yourselves.

"Can I shed the towel now?" You ask, and he smiles at you.

Always so sweet.

"Of course angel. We came here to swim, didn't we?" He says, and you nod, eyes sparkling with excitement as he follows you into the waters. He keeps an eye on you at all times, leads you behind a large boulder; successfully hiding you from any spying eyes out there. The waves are a little more present at this spot, but that's fine with him- it's not enough to be dangerous yet. Your body, compared to him, is already floating as you hold onto his shoulders; and it gives him a weird feeling of power over you. He watches your feet trying to keep you afloat- your fingers pressing down on his skin to hold onto him, and your eyes finally meeting his.

He's entranced.

"Say, Angel.." He speaks, words flowing out of his mouth without his will. "Do you love me?"

The question is asked almost daily. It holds so much meaning not only for him, but for you as well. It's a question you could never imagine to answer with a 'no'- there was always just one answer to ever be said.

"Of course I do." You say, and he smiles.

But this time, there's suddenly something else behind his gentle grin sent towards you. There's something dark, something rabid- something you've seen before. It's as if he shifts persona's sometimes. As if he's turning into someone you don't quite know.

"Would you do anything for me?" He asks, melodic, as if he was a siren ready to bewitch you. He's sure to let his demanding question be followed by a softer tone, however. "I would do anything for you, you know that, right Angel?" He says, and you nod.

You're already enchanted as you answer. "Of course I'd do anything, Koo.." You mumble out, and his smile widens as he leans forward.

You're sure that his lips are going to meet yours, and you already close your eyes. But he's not kissing you; his lips move beside your ear, as he purrs something into it, barely heard over the sound of waves and seagulls around you.

"Would you drown for me?"

It all happens so fast after that, the seagulls, the waves, the short moment that you can hear a truck pass by nearby on the roads; it's all gone a second after, vision blurred and disrupted by bubbles as you need a moment to clear it again. You can see him, as serene as ever above you, his eyes staring at your form, his gentle hands, the hands that so carefully tied your hair together just half an hour ago pushing you down, as you hold your breath. He's still smiling, the edges of his lips still turned upwards as he seems to scan you for a moment. That's when you notice it too.

You're not struggling.

And it dawns onto you in that moment that there's a reason you don't. Apart from him, you have nothing left; there's no friends worried about you, no family left for you to return to, no job you could take on at this point. All you have is him. The reason you're alive is not because you've been born into this world.

You're alive because he let's you.

You exist because he allows it.

You watch him get closer as your lungs start to burn, his lips pressed onto yours as he quite literally steals your breath away. It's only when your eyes grow droopy, your skin gets tingly, and your vision starts to darken around the edges like TV static creeping in on you, does he finally push the two of you up again.

You breathe heavily, your lungs hurt, your throat scratchy as if you swallowed sandpaper. He holds you close throughout it, gentle hands running over your back as he speaks to you in a warm and comforting voice. You don't understand his words yet, hands clinging to him as you press your forehead against the inside of his shoulder. You can feel his chest move as he chuckles, ears finally working again as the seagulls and waves return to you.

"I love you so much." He speaks, as if nothing happened just seconds before. "Don't ever forget that." Are his last words, before he presses a kiss to the side of your face.

You'll never forget that.

You'd rather die.

#bts imagine #bts #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #bts smut #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts reactions #bts yandere au #bts yandere #yandere jungkook #yandere

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hoodedguitarist · 3 years

Text

Think you can Hide from Me? Part 3

Once again, Gif aint mine I just REALLY LOVE IT. It��s one of my favorite scenes of him.

Pairing: Boba Fett x Reader

Summary: You infiltrated, the plan fell into chaos, Boba is mad at you, you’re catching feels, lots of time skips and some ANGST.

Warnings? None... Really not yet at least. Slight DinxReader if you squint. This just got a lot more feelsy and I got a whole lot more invested in this than I expected to. Which honestly seems to happen a lot to me. NO SHAME.

I really want to thank everyone who has liked, favorited, reblogged, and followed! You’re all amazing and make me feel amazing too. It means a lot to me that everyone is enjoying my writing. My inbox is open and I’ll even make a Tag List if anyone is interested!

Part 1: The Infiltrator

Part 2: The Distraction

Part 4: The Reunion

Part 3: The Regret

You should have known that plan was going to go off the rails. What you didn’t know, however, was that Boba was going to end up being a casualty of it all as well, and by complete accident.

Sure, you’d been caught with the others, sure you’d been sentenced to death with the others… And oh yes Boba was pissed… Very pissed. You didn’t need to see his face to tell that he was because instead of riding in the barge, he was there to personally bind you and hold you on the way to the Sarlaac pit.

Standing next to Han and Luke was going to make this conversation very awkward, but it needed to be said.

“Ok… So you’re mad at me, right?” You said out loud. Both of them glanced over at you, but you felt Boba’s hand tighten around your shoulder and yank you backwards into him. “Ah!”

“Mad is an understatement, sweetheart,” his modulated voice hissed.

“Ok, that’s fair… I’m sorry I lied to you about the whole work thing. Really, I am.”

“Uh… (Y/N)?” Han questioned.

“Stay out of it Han,” you snapped quickly. “You too, Luke. Mind your business, both of you.”

The two backed off and tried their best not to pay attention to whatever you could possibly be talking about with the bounty hunter, someone they considered an enemy.

“Was fucking me a distraction too?” Boba growled. Now the boys were really trying not to pay attention.

“No, actually, that part was real,” you turned your head to look at him over your shoulder. “I was telling the truth when I said I’d wanted to do that ever since I saw you, and still do, if you’ll have me.”

“I think that was your last roll in the sheets, princess. If you manage to make it out of this alive somehow, I’ll know and I’ll find you,” he threatened.

“Hm, sounds fun,” you couldn’t stop yourself from grinning. “If you make it out of this alive, I’ll come back and find you too. Do we have a deal?”

Boba scoffed and you figured he felt pretty confident that this was it and you were going to die some horrible death inside the belly of this beast.

“Deal,” he finally answered.

Han and Luke both cut their eyes over at you and you shrugged. “I told you two to mind your own business.”

~*~

Things had happened so fast. One minute you were about to be shoved into the pit, the next Luke is jumping around doing Jedi stuff and mildly impressing you. You didn’t have time to admire, though, because you were struggling with one of Jabba’s guards while Han and Chewie were getting into it with Boba.

Somehow, you were trying to manage not getting killed but also trying to watch Han’s back because he was still blind, and now Chewie who had been shot… But also Boba because you really didn’t want him dying on you either. It was a weird situation all around.

You struggled with the guard and managed to land a hit, but then a blaster fired out of nowhere and hit him square in the chest, knocking him backwards and into the pit. You were startled and turned to look where the shot came from, and sure enough you saw Boba’s blaster smoking. Your heart jumped into your throat and he simply nodded to you… Until he turned his sights on Luke.

You heard Chewie howl something out, heard Han get jumpy.

“Boba Fett?? Where??” He whipped around and smacked the bounty hunter right in his jetpack, which malfunctioned and sent him flying.

“Han what the hell??” You yelled over the chaos.

“I didn’t know he was right there! I can’t see!” He yelled back. You looked over the railing rather desperately, just in time to see the bounty hunter roll into the Sarlaac pit.

Well… That was a damn shame...

~*~

Five years had passed, and the Empire was defeated. Ghosts and whispers still lingered, but the Rebellion no longer needed you. It was now the New Republic and you didn’t really have any interest in politics. You said your goodbyes to your friends, the true heroes, and went back to being on your own.

You weren’t on your own for long, however, seeing as how you got caught up in chaos with another Mandalorian. This one was different, however. He had a kid with him. You didn’t mind babysitting during the really dangerous stuff but at the same time you sort of missed the chaos. After a while, the kid wanted to be everywhere his dad was so you were able to tag along.

Being with them led you back to Tatooine, to a small place known as Mos Pelgo. You wanted to help Din get the kid back with his own kind and when they spoke of another Mandalorian in Mos Pelgo, you couldn’t help it as your heart jumped and your hopes spiked…

Especially when a ghost appeared in the doorway wearing Boba Fett’s armor.

You tensed beside Din, and he glanced at you briefly.

“Boba…?” You questioned carefully, letting your eyes run down the person in front of you. He was tall, much more thin. There was no way…

“ ‘Fraid not, darlin’,” the ghost answered.

First, you felt the icy cold stab of regret and loss all over again, then you felt the heat of anger bloom in you. Both you and Din were ready to throw down with the Marshal for entirely different reasons.

“Take it off,” Din ordered.

“Or I will,” your voice was a low warning, surprising all parties involved.

“I think I wouldn’t mind that,” the ghost now known as Cobb Vanth smirked at you.

“Yeah you say that now until you’ve got a knife in your back. Where the hell did you get that? And don’t say Jawas. That armor belonged to someone. Someone I knew!” You snapped.

“I don’t know what to tell you, honey. Anything else would be a lie. I did get it from the Jawas.”

A growl slipped your lips and you took a step forward, but Din grabbed you first. In the end, everything worked out in your favor. Cobb gave up the armor in exchange for help against the Dragon that plagued Mos Pelgo. When the two of you and the child were back safely on the Razor Crest, there were several times when Din would catch you gazing at the old armor, running your fingers across it, leaning your head against the empty helm.

He even thought he saw tears…

Finally, one night, he managed to carefully edge the story out of you. It was a little difficult, but you managed well enough.

“It was just supposed to be a fling, you know? No strings attached, just to say I did it. But there was just something about him, something else that drew me to him. I wanted him to live, I tried to protect him but so many things happened that day, and so many things went wrong way too quickly…” Your voice caught in your throat, but you laughed despite yourself. “I ended up catching feelings for this fucking bounty hunter after he supposedly died.”

“It’s possible those feelings grew from guilt,” Din said calmly. “Thank you for telling me and trusting me with this. I’m sorry this is bringing you so much pain.”

“Oh they most definitely grew from guilt, but then when I saw his armor, hope grew. He had to have come out of it. He’s got to be somewhere, I just don’t know where… And I don’t know if he’ll kill me on sight, so you might want to get ready for that too.”

“(Y/N) when are we not almost killed on sight?” There was a hint of amusement to his voice, and it made you smile. “I think we can manage,” he assured you.

“Yeah… Let’s hope…”

~*~

Seeing the armor hit you hard, but being on top of that mountain with Din and Grogu and seeing Slave 1 come out of the atmosphere and into the sky really did a number on you.

“Oh shit… Oh shit…” You muttered.

“What? Who is that?” Din looked over at you.

“I… I don’t know. It used to be Boba’s ship but there’s no damn telling now. I haven’t seen that thing in years. Somebody could have scavenged it or something.”

“Well we need to figure it out, come on,” he waved for you to follow, and you did so, trying your best not to seem too eager.

Unfortunately, that eagerness faded with the blaster fire, and the both of you took cover behind a rock.

“I’ve been tracking you, Mandalorian.”

That voice… It made your heart thunder in your chest. Masked by a modulator or not, you could tell it was him. You tensed and Din noticed. He looked over at you and you looked at him, eyes wide and lips parted. You gave a quick nod.

“It’s him… It’s Boba…”

“So not a Jedi… Great,” he whispered. The both of you eased out from behind the rock and you got your first good look at him. He was dressed in black robes, the hood thrown over his head, weapons strapped to his back.

“Boba??” You couldn’t stop yourself as you called out to him. He reached up and pushed his hood back, revealing a scarred face. It did nothing to deter you, however. He was older, but you were still just as attracted to him as you had been years ago. He stepped forward and moved closer, his eyes never leaving your face. It made you a little nervous. “If you’re going to kill me then ok, just do it, but I want you to know that I’m sorry first,” you said quickly holding your hands up. “I’m sorry for what happened that day.”

“Surprised to see me alive?” It was a simple question. No dark tone or anger.

“Relieved is more like,” you admitted. “I looked for you, for any sign of you after the war was over, but I never found anything. I knew somehow, though. I knew you’d survived, but I didn’t know if you’d want to kill me or not.”

“You know me well enough, girl. If I’d wanted to kill you, I would have done it right after I crawled out of that pit,” his eyes roved down you and you felt that old familiar rush, that feeling of playing with fire again. “It’s good to see you, princess, and we’ll talk later. For now, we need to talk about my armor that your man made off with.”

@pinkiemme @chadillacboseman If you need me I’ll be in the trash compactor thanks.

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nctsworld · 4 years

Text

couldn’t be better

✩ mark x reader | fluff | campfire au | 1.2k

→ summary: you and mark hang out with the boys in johnny’s backyard during one evening. → warnings: none - pure fluff as sweet as marshmallows! → rating: general

→ gif created by me, please don’t repost or share without credit!

With his guitar in tow strapped around his body, Mark’s fingers are daintily hooked with yours as he leads you into Johnny’s backyard through the side of his house. You’ve been there a couple times, but you’re always taken aback every time at the picturesque sight that could be straight from a magazine.

The landscape is one thing to notice; colourful assorted flowers are sprinkled everywhere in the midst of the thick greenery of bushes and trees. However, what draws the attention of most is the large covered pergola encircled by dim, small light bulbs. Underneath the pergola lies enough comfortable cushioned seats and matching side tables for a sizable party, fitting for the many friends Johnny has. And in the middle of everything, a campfire blazes brightly in the circular fire pit, warmly welcoming all who enter.

The host formally greets both of you with a hug, albeit more of a side hug since Mark’s guitar interferes, while you’re holding bags full with snacks to share and take-out dinner for the both of you. More greetings are exchanged with Johnny and Mark’s closest friends already seated around the fire before the host gestures with a nod for you to sit in one of the loveseats. You oblige and Mark places the guitar next to the furniture, while you’re filling in the space next to him and setting the food and snacks out on one of the tables.

Dinner begins immediately as the rest of the guests trickle in and fill the seats surrounding the fire pit. Main courses are inhaled quickly and when you and Mark finish your meals, he eases into his normal routine. Arm slung over you casually, mindlessly drawing circles and lines on your thigh, playing with the tips of your fingers, and the like. Although you’re not always conscious of his every touch, you nevertheless relax into them and reciprocate if possible. Soon enough, Johnny’s handing out long skewers alongside an extra-sized pack of marshmallows being circulated.

Beginning to roast your respective marshmallows, you lay your head on Mark’s shoulder, gaze focused on the dancing flames heating the sweet treat. Unaware, you don’t see the little smile Mark flashes downwards to you, adoring how precious you are. Your boyfriend plants a tender kiss upon your head. In response, you break away momentarily to link an arm through his and rest your head back upon him, snuggling close.

Just as the fluffy sweetmeats are smoked to your taste, you ensure to blow on them before consumption. Despite how you’re still blowing yours, Mark suddenly holds his marshmallow between in fingers in front of your face. Your eyebrows ruffle as you glance up at him, unsure why he’s offering his.

“Mine’s cooled down already,” he mutters close to your face over the crackling embers and vibrant voices. Without hesitation, you open your mouth and Mark plops it in.

“Is it good?’ Mark giggles at the sight of you nodding, chewing, and humming with a full cheek. His hands then reach for yours holding the skewer and drags it closer to his face, continuing to cool your marshmallow on your behalf. Once done, he gestures it towards you. Your fingers gently pluck it off and like what Mark did moments ago, you drop it into his mouth, but he abruptly makes an O with his mouth.

“Are you okay?” You sit straight up, unsure what was up with him. Realization dawns on you as he begins to fan his mouth.

“It’sh shtill hot,” he manages to say. You offer him his drink, but he declines, not wanting to ruin the sweetness. Shaking your head with a laugh, you run a hand through his hair and pet him lovingly.

Darker shades of blue fade over the night sky while marshmallows and skewers are traded for Mark and his guitar. Songs vary in genres and moods, but regardless, everyone who knows the words to whichever song Mark plays sings along. At times it’s discordant with laughter and exaggerating notes, but there are times when people harmonize as a canorous choir. The stars aren’t quite out yet, but stars could be seen glittering in your eyes, marvelling at your beloved’s natural inclination with music and singing.

After some time, Mark passes the guitar over to Taeil and finds his hip glued with yours again. You whisper affectionate compliments in his ear prior to your lips meeting his cheek, while he thanks you and wraps an arm that encompasses your waist.

Stars finally engulf the sky and since it’s near the end of summer, the wind rises with a slight bite. Mark catches on quick, knowing you like the back of his hand, when it’s becoming too cold for you. Without a word, he takes off his plaid button-up and places it atop your shoulders, rubbing your arms to keep you as warm as possible.

A few moments pass before he whispers into your ear that he’ll be back. You yearn for his body warmth the second he leaves your side. As a close replacement, you move closer to the flames and rub your hands.

You observe Mark heading towards Johnny, interrupting his conversation, then your love makes a bee line into the host’s house. He heads back out with a thick blanket in his arms. You two are tucked underneath in seconds and thanks are given.

“You know I got you,” he replies. Even with the blanket, you can feel the goosebumps on his bare arms since he was only wearing a t-shirt underneath his button-up.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

He nods, dismissing your compassion. “Gotta keep my girl happy, don’t you worry about me.”

A wink follows, and it warms you more than the fire ever could.

The conversations all about have veered to topics that you and Mark aren’t as invested in, so you and him are left in your own bubble. Sharing the occasional meme on your phone. Talking about the dazzling constellations. Comparing each other’s hand sizes.

Across the fire, Johnny notices you lovebirds off in another world away from the party. The contrast between you two and the fire, the soft lighting, and the night sky make for a gorgeous moment, so he rushes to grab his camera next to him and snaps a picture.

“So,” Johnny speaks up, words cutting through the fire and popping the bubble you’re both in. “What’s it like being the oh, so picture perfect couple?”

Everyone’s conversations die down, shocked at Johnny’s loud inquiry and intrigued since you both haven’t really spoken up much during the evening. Eyes are on you and your love. You face each other as if on reflex, appreciating each other’s features for a silent moment.

You watch Mark’s eyes sparkle, reflecting the strong blaze, which compliment his saccharine grin.

Mark loves how you glow brighter than anything he’s ever seen before, and the way he feels at home whenever he’s with you.

“It’s pretty good. You?” Mark raises an eyebrow, still keeping his stare on you.

You nod, matching his steady gaze.

“Couldn’t be better.”

As Mark reaches in and cusps your cheek to share a kiss, fake gags, wolf whistles, and lengthy oh’s erupt in the background along with a “Get a room!” from Haechan.

#mark lee #mark lee x reader #mark lee imagines #mark lee scenarios #nct #nctcreations #nct imagines #nct 127 fanfic #nct scenarios #mark lee fluff #mark x reader #mywritings #myfanfics

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kkusuka · 3 years

Text

Third year songs <3

this is most of the thrid years- not all

from my spotify liked playlist <3

comes with a side of slight character analysis

These are my interpretations of HQ characters and these songs!!

Time-skip spoilers!! (very slight)

---

Karasuno

Daichi Sawamura

Waiting for Superman- Daughtry

She's waiting for Superman

To lift her up

And take her anywhere

Show her love

And climbing through the air

Save her now

Before it's too late tonight

She's waiting for Superman

Daichi seems like he makes a lot of promises, that he just can’t physically keep. He just has so many things going on that he just can’t pay attention to all of them at once. This leads to far too many forgotten dates and even more broken promises. You know its not his fault and he does too, he just can’t leave anyone hanging.

Koushi Sugawara

Island- Florida Georgia Line

We might as well be on an island

Like we're the last two on this Earth

Like we're frozen here in time

Like it's empty here tonight

I feel like suga likes to put himself back into happier times. And that he tries to hold into happy moments as they are happening. He says he is a man of the moment, but when he feels down, he tries to put himself back into the more joyous times.

Asahi Azumane

You say- Lauren Daigle

You say I am loved when I can't feel a thing

You say I am strong when I think I am weak

And you say I am held when I am falling short

And when I don't belong, oh You say I am Yours

And I believe (I)

Oh, I believe (I)

What You say of me (I)

I believe

Asahi is clearly very attached to how people perceive him. So when people shower him with compliments, he attaches onto them. He likes what makes him comfortable and he wants to stay comfortable for as long as he can. Words are important to him, so when he hears something bad it can ruin him for a while. He really does believe what the people he loves say to him.

Kiyoko Shimizu

Mothers daughter- Miley Cyrus

Oh my gosh, she got the power

Oh, look at her, she got the power

So, so, so

…

Must be something in the water

Or that I'm my mother's daughter

The power this woman carries. She’s built her confidence and she’s not letting anyone ruin it for her. I truly believe that her friends all become more confident because she wants everyone around her to feel confident too. Since she doesn't speak all that much she lets her body language do most of the expression.

Nekoma

Tetsurō Kuroo

High school sweethearts- Melanie Martinez

Could you hold me through the night?

Put your lips all over my mine

Salty face when I start cryin'

Could you be my first time?

Eat me up like apple pie

Kuroo definitely takes trust very seriously. I feel he’s also really scared of someone breaking this trust, so he does form it with a lot of people. That saying if he does, he wants it to last forever.

(...Step twoThis is a waste if you can't walk me down the finish line…)

He truly believes in the people he surrounds himself with.

Nobuyuki Kai

Kill the Lights- Set it Off

Now I am cutting ties clean off

And I can breathe at last

So we all stand enthralled by this bland curtain call

And the truth we pursue as we all, we all beg you to

Kai seems like he wasn't really that invested in volleyball, so having all these passionate people around him was a shock. But he really got into third year, and he wants people to feel that passion too. In the back of his mind he feels bad for not feeling it like the rest of the team, but since looking in the past means nothing now, he tries to move on.

Morisuke Yaku

Mama- Mcr

And when we go don't blame us, yeah

We'll let the fires just bathe us, yeah

You made us oh so famous;

We'll never let you go

And when you go don't return to me my love

I mean, he is part of the mom squad. But it's ever so slightly more deep. I’m gonna say it's momma-bird syndrome. He doesn't want people to move on without him, seeing people achieve their dreams is great but he doesn't want you to do it if that means loving him.

Seijoh

Tōru Oikawa

Prom Queen- Beach Bunny

Maybe I should try harder

You should lower your expectations

I'm no quick-curl barbie

I was never cut out for prom queen

I feel like oikawa is constantly feeling like he has to catch up to everyone around him. At some point in Argentina he came to the conclusion that he was good enough and didn't need to rise to anyone's standards of him, but when he got picked for the national team everything came back. He still has all of those feelings from high-school. Never making it to nationals, feeling like he failed his team.

Issei Matsukawa

Bubblegum Bitch- Marina and the diamonds

Got a figure like a pin-up, got a figure like a doll

Don't care if you think I'm dumb, I don't care at all

Candy bear, sweetie pie, wanna be adored

I'm the girl you'd die for

I feel like to earn Mattsun’s trust, he would put you through some ridiculous trial of sorts. I also feel that he is very comfortable with who he is, and he takes no shit about it. But that comes with the fact that he rarely takes fault in things, and that sparks arguments. He’ll use your love for him against you, he’ll be as cold as he can muster, until YOU take fault.

Takahiro Hanamaki

OUT THE ROOF- Chase Atlantic

Yeah, we stay lit

We fuck bitches, pop on pillies, that is it, yeah

Holy moly, holy shit, yeah

Me and all my people are heaven sent, yeah, yup

9this is a strait vibe for Makki)

I feel like Makki drowns his problems out with meaningless activities. Like smoking or one-night stands. He’d rather drown out his problems then have them in his face. Or when he’s forced to face them, he’ll deflect until he has nothing else to deflect. Because when you’re high there nothing to worry about! Why stress about meaningless problems when he can be having fun!

Hajime Iwaizumi

Endlessly- The Cab

Yeah, your friends may think I'm crazy

Cause they can only see

I'm not perfect, but I swear, I'm perfect for you.

And there's no guarantee

That this will be easy.

It's not a miracle you need, believe me.

Yeah, I'm no angel, I'm just me

But I will love you endlessly.

Iwa knows that he can't be there for you all the time. Physically he tries his best, mentally he can help when he can. But you both know that you're perfect for one another. He just can't help but listen to the people around him sometimes. You deserve the world, but he doesn't know if he can give that to you.

Fukurodani

Kōtarō Bokuto

Prima Donna- Andrew Lloyd Webber

Can you bow out when they're shouting your name?

Think of how they all adore you

We’ve all seen how Bokuto gets what he’s praised for literally anything remotely impressive. So that makes him a cannon prima donna! but that also means the lows and really bad mood swings. This song just fits him so well it’s scary.

Shiratorizawa

Wakatoshi Ushijim

More- Usher

If you really want more, scream it out louder,

If you on the floor, bring out the fire,

And light it up, take it up higher,

Gotta push it to the limit, give it more.

This seems kinda obvious, but Ushijima never gives up. Ever since he was a kid, he set a goal for himself and he went beyond what he even set out for. And that comes with a lot of work and training for every new level of volleyball. He’s just going to get better and better until he retires, or is forced to retire.

Eita Semi

strawberries and cigarettes- troye sivan

Long nights, daydreams

Sugar and smoke rings, I've been a fool

But strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you

Headlights, on me

Racing to 60, I've been a fool

But strawberries and cigarettes always taste like

Blue eyes, black jeans

Lighters and candy, I've been a fool

But strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you

I feel like semi always thinks about how Shirabu replaced him on the starting line-up. But he’s mostly gotten over it, but certain things bring him back into that stage of his life. Then the cycle starts all over again. He constantly looks back on the game against Karasuno and thinks about wat would have happened if he was the setter instead.

Reon Ōhira

Remember when- Chris Wallace

So can we push push push rewind,

Go go back in time,

When we were kids sneaking bottles of wine,

Take take take me back, I wanna go back,

Back to what we had! Do you remember when we started this mess,

My heart was beating out of my chest!,

Remember when we stole your dad's car,

Reon gives me the vibe that his days at Shiratorizawa were some of the best of his life. How can they not be? He made the greatest friends of his life there. And I also feel like he looks back on them a bit more than he wants to admit.

Satori Tendō

This Side of Paradise- Coyote theory

Are you lonely?

Passion is crashing as we speak

You seem so lonely

You're the ground my feet won't reach

So if you're lonely

Darling you're glowing

If you're lonely come be lonely with me.

I get the vibe that Tendou attaches himself to whatever makes him feel wanted/safe. (ex. volleyball) he knows it isn't healthy, but he can't help it. This does lead to him completely distancing himself from you over and over because he thinks you’ll leave him.

Hayato Yamagata- House of gold- Twenty one Pilots

I will make you

Queen of everything you see

I'll put you on the map

I'll cure you of disease (Ooh)

And since we know that dreams are dead

And life turns plans up on their head

I will plan to be a bum

So I just might become someone

Even though we don't see a lot of him, I get the feeling he treats people really well. Like he cherishes people a lot more than some of them deserve. As you can see this leads to some unfair relationships and toxic people. He just wants to hold on until a good person comes along.

Nohebi

Suguru Daishō

Mr Loverman - Ricky Montgomery

I'm Mr. Loverman

And I miss my lover, man

I'm Mr. Loverman

Oh, and I miss my lover

I feel like this was way too obvious, but it really is his song. It’s literally cannon, every lyric in this song is what happened with Mika. but in the end he got her back and made his promise to be a better loverman <3.

Kazuma Numai

Nonstop- Drake

Future took the business and ran it for me

I let Ollie take the owl, told him brand it for me

I get two million a pop and that's standard for me

Like I went blind dog, you gotta hand it to me

He looks and acts like a guy who listens to drake. He just seems like a guy who won't stop or give up even when things take a turn. He’ll just keep fighting until nothing’s left.

Kōji Hiroo

At the Wheel- Colorblind

I need something to wake me up

It's never strong enough

I'm just getting colder and starting over

Going numb is just the way I run from

All my problems when I can't solve them

Need to break away

Escape the way I'm feeling

Hate to be fake, but I'm just dealing

This one doesn't really have a true reason, i really just felt like this was his song. Sorry just the vibe.

;)

Inarizaki

Shinsuke Kita

Oh Ms Believer- twenty one pilots

Oh, Ms. Believer, my pretty sleeper

Your twisted mind is like snow on the road

Your shaking shoulders prove that it's colder

Inside your head than the winter of dead

I will tell you I love you

But the muffs on your ears will cater your fears

My nose and feet are running as we start

To travel through snow

Together we go

I feel like kita is unintentionally cold towards the world, like he wants to open up but can't figure out how. But in turn if you can get him to feel “warmer” (get closer to him) he’ll share everything with you, almost oversharing. Just because he can't help it, he’s kept it all in for so long. Sometimes he just needs someone to hold him and make HIM feel better, because he does it for everyone. If you can manage all of this i feel like he’ll keep you with him forever.

Ren Ōmimi

Armor- Landon Austin

I'm not bullet proof when it comes to you

Don't know what to say when you made me the enemy

After the war is won

There's always the next one

I'm not bullet proof when it comes to you

I feel like not a lot of people approach ren because of how intimidating he looks. This has made him weary when people are really enthused to first meet him, because he thinks it’s a joke. After getting over that hurdle i feel like he just isn't an open person so it’ll take a long time to even get to a point where he trusts you. Hence the other wars after the first.

Aran Ojiro-

Never really over- Katy perry

Two years, and just like that, my head still takes me back

Thought it was done, but I guess it's never really over

Oh, we were such a mess, but wasn't it the best?

Thought it was done, but I guess it's never really over

Just because it's over doesn't mean it's really over

And if I think it over, maybe you'll be coming over again

And I'll have to get over you all over again

After all of these years, I really don't think Aran has truly gotten over losing at nationals in third year. And now on the national team he sees Hinata and Kageyama all the time and it takes him back. It makes him re-feel all the emotions he felt after the game. It hurt him to know that he gave his everything and still lost. Like when he’s in bed he puts himself back into that self loathing phase of his life.

Michinari Akagi

Try Hard - 5sos

It's obvious she’s so out of reach

And I'm finding it hard 'cause

She makes me feel, makes me feel

Like I try, like I try, like I'm trying too hard

'Cause I'm not being me

And it’s getting me down that

She makes me think, makes me think

That I try, that I try, that I'm trying too hard again

Akagi gives off boy best friend vibes. But like to EVERYONE, so the person he liked just thought he was making fun of them and he didn't like them back. And i feel like that kinda traumatized him a bit, so when he got a new s/o he tried really really hard to make them special, but the same thing happened.

i may do some with the second and first years, idk this took so long :)

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fanfictionfansmiction · 3 years

Note

hii! i was just wondering if i could a request a ron imagine where he really likes the reader and he does what he does to fleur in the movies and yells at her to go to the ball with him? and ginny is like comforting him how she was in the movies but reader runs after him and they’re all in shock bc she actually wants to go with him and liked him back? (i’m sorry this is long, i’m bad at explaining)

This is my first request!! Very exciting, so I have written this based on what you said rather than watching the clip from the film so it might not happen exactly the same as that but I hope you enjoy it anyway it was really fun to write so please do send in more requests!

Word Count: 1594

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Ron was never great with his expressing his feelings, especially when it came to you. He was always saying the wrong thing or saying the right thing the wrong way. It wasn’t always like that though you two were close for a long time and you even considered him your closest friend. Ron kicked himself every time he saw you and acted like an idiot and so did his friends.

“Ron why don’t you just go and talk to her?” Hermione said reading the paper not looking at Ron or Harry as she did but still sensing Ron’s pining look that was laid upon you sat with your Hufflepuff friends. Ron only groaned in response pushing his breakfast around on the plate.

“Obviously, it’s because he can’t talk to her or he’ll just die it’s so embarrassing she’s just so beautiful and perfect what could he possibly offer her.” Harry imitated Ron. “I’m sorry mate but this has been going on too long and its painful to watch, if you don’t do something about it in the next two days, I’ll…” Harry trailed off thinking of an appropriate threat for a friend. “Or I’ll tell Fred and George about it.” There that seemed good enough. Harry looking fairly pleased with himself started to eat his breakfast assuming that would be the end of it today. Ron rested his head in his hands feeling sorry for himself.

“But what would I talk to her about?” Ron asked his two friends hoping for a helpful response. Neither had any response, Herimone who now seemed to be filling out the crossword puzzle and Harry who was instead thinking about his own love life. No such luck for Ron instead Ginny sat herself next to Hermione stealing a sausage off Ron’s plate and munching on it.

“What’s everyone’s plans for the Yule Ball then?” she asks holding eye contact with Harry who chokes on his orange juice. Pleased with his reaction she grins looking at her brother. “Ron who’s your date?”

“He’s just about to ask them.” Hermione announces folding up the newspaper now more invested in the whole situation, shooting Ron a pointed look. Harry, happy to have Ginny’s eyes off him agrees with Hermione.

“Oh, this’ll be great. What’s the plan Ron?” Ginny asks filling a glass scoffing at the thought of her brother asking the object of his affections out on a date, successfully.

“Instead of thinking about it he was actually just about to ask them now. Weren’t you Ron?” Harry says nudging Ron’s arm.

“Hermione will you- “

“You aren’t getting out of it that easily Ronald. We all know who you want to ask. Besides, I already have a date. You’re on your own with this one.” She responds her eyes drifting over to Viktor who was already looking at her.

“Stop being a chicken Ron and go ask them.” Ginny says commanding the same power as her mother. Ron shakily stands whipping his sweaty hands along his trousers. He takes a deep breathe in and makes his way to where you are sitting with your Hufflepuff friends. For a moment Ron thinks about turning back because what is the worst Ginny could do if he didn’t ask. What could Fred and George do that would be worse than rejection? A quick turn of his head told him that no matter how scary rejection was his little sister would be worse. Besides that, you had already spotted him focusing your attention on him. Your friends still talking to you, but you were looking at Ron and he felt his face light up. It had been a while since you had looked at him, properly looked at him.

“Hello Ron.” You said with a large smile on your face lighting up your eyes.

He breathed you name, and his heart hammered in his chest. He remembered his sweating palms and his friend watching him and your friends watching him and you looking at him with those sweet eyes. Any drop confidence he had just drained out of him and he felt stuck. To make matters worse your friends began whispering and giggling. Why didn’t he plan out how to ask you? What if when he asked you couldn’t hear him. Or what if when he asked you burst out laughing revealing you already had a date a much better date. A date who asked you with flowers. He should have brought you flowers.

“Everything okay?” You ask bringing him back to the room. Ron’s throat felt dry.

“WOULD YOU LIKE TO GO TO THE YULE BALL WITH ME AS MY DATE. WELL, IT DOESN’T HAVE TO BE LIKE A DATE DATE WE COULD GO AS FRIENDS.” He burst out far louder than he intended. Clapping his hands over his mouth confused at how he managed to produce such a loud volume. This did it all your friends laughed and so did the entire room at this strange outburst. He could see how pink you had gotten mouth opening and closing like a fish looking around at your friends who all seemed extremely amused. So, he apologised and immediately began powerwalking out of the hall because running out would be far more embarrassing.

He didn’t stop walking until he felt he was far enough away from the sound of everyone’s laughter. Laughing at him. Why did he do that? He asked himself. In the morning sun out in the courtyard he kicked a tree really regretting embarrassing you in front of all those people. He didn’t even realise he was talking to himself until someone interrupted him.

“Finally found some good company?” Ginny said leaning against the tree.

“What do you want Gin?” Ron asked croakily not realising he had been crying.

“I want you to know that you are an idiot but its also okay. You very easily could have never asked her, never spoken to her again. Never given her idea of how you felt but you did. And I hate to say it Ron but not everything is going to go as you want it everyone doesn’t always like you back. It’s okay that she didn’t want to go with you there are plenty of others who might. It’s okay if she doesn’t see you that way you know, that right?”

Just as Ron opens his mouth to respond someone else does.

“I never said I didn’t want to go with you Ron.”

Ginny grins once again watching as her brothers face lights up and she sees the hope return to his body. She walks away leaving the two of them some time alone.

Ron says your name like a wish. Like he doesn’t really believe you’ll be there when he turns around. But you are and he sees the blush still on your face. And that you’re breathless like you ran after him all that way. Ron wants to say something to say anything to you, but he doesn’t. Thankfully as it finally gives you the space to say how you feel.

“I just wasn’t expecting you ask me Ron. You haven’t spoken to me properly in weeks, I thought I did something to upset you. My friends only laughed because we were literally just talking about you. I was planning on asking you to Yule Ball myself. Look Ron I really like you and not having my close friend there to talk to and to laugh with was really strange.”

“I really like you too. I just never thought you felt the same way.” Ron closes the space between you.

“That’s because you never asked.” You laugh placing you hand on his cheek. Another flush of red taking over his face. His eyes look down not sure enough of himself to meet your gaze. Placing your other hand on his other cheek you say, “So ask me Ron.” Ron smiles lopsided and goofy looking at you still rather nervous.

“So, I was wondering if you wanted to go to the Yule Ball with me? As my date.” He breathes.

“Oh, I’m not sure what day is that on again?” You tease taking your hands away from his face feigning deep thought, causing him to laugh with you relaxing him. “I’d love to go to the ball as your date Ron. Maybe before then we could go on a little date.” You ask playing with the collar of his shirt.

“Wasn’t that his line.” You hear Harry add from behind you. Ron shoots him a look of humorous disapproval.

“As much as I’m annoyed that he was watching that I have to agree with him. I think I was supposed to ask you that.” He says now looking at you so intensely you almost forget how to talk.

“Why because he’s the guy?” Ginny adds.

“How archaic.” Hermione adds.

“Sorry mate we just had to see how this plays out.”

Ron shakes his head with an infectious laugh, he snakes his arm round your waist holding you closely.

“Fred and George just wouldn’t believe you without eyewitnesses, really I’m doing you a favour.” Harry laughs.

“How about we go somewhere a little more private to plan this date.” You say gazing up at Ron with delight.

“That sounds perfect.” He says before kissing you soft and sweet.

“Okay now it’s weird.” Ginny says, “Let’s leave these lovebirds alone. Have fun you two.”

Ron smiles down at you and you feel relief flood through you. The two of you this close, sharing space in the universe together felt righter than anything you’d ever known before.

#ron weasly imagine #ron x you #ron x y/n #ron weasly x reader #ron weasley x y/n #harry potter imagine #harry potter reader insert #ron weasley #ronald weasley x reader #ronald weasley x y/n #Ron reader insert #reader insert

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chalkrevelations · 3 years

Text

WELL. Episode 3 of Word of Honor.

First of all: If you are NEW or JUST VISITING, this is a re-watch, so there are SPOILERS not just for this ep, but for the ENTIRE SHOW. A lot of them, actually. Scroll away and come back later if you haven’t seen all 36.5 eps and want to watch it unspoiled.

So, this ep feels a little disjointed. I don’t think it actually is, not in the way the back nine are a speedrun where the writing starts to feel like it’s thisclose to coming off the rails, but it feels like it, in that we’re now getting a double handful of threads thrust at us that are only just starting to be woven together into a plot, and it’s the kind of hot mess that any fiberwork looks like before the pattern starts to show itself, particularly when you’re using 15 different color threads from jump. There’s generally a major theme or issue or overriding concept that stands out to me in each ep that, you may have noticed, gets primacy of place in these reactions, but honestly, y’all, I really struggled to figure out what that might be for this episode, because a lot of this, on re-watch, strikes me as groundwork for later developments. Wen Kexing gives us an “as you know, Bob” speech about the Amory and the Glazed Armor, we meet approx. 3.2K new characters, and I feel sort of like I should start keeping a chart of who’s supposed to have a piece of the Glazed Armor and who actually does have a piece of the Glazed Armor, but it’s already so confusing that it might be too late.*

ANYWAY, on re-watch, I can absolutely see the value of spending Eps 1 & 2 on introducing us to Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing and getting us pulled into their orbit, because then we have scenes we’re already invested in to maintain our interest as the background politics begin to frustratingly play out with a bunch of people we don’t know or have any investment in yet. I mean, y’all. I forgot just what an ill-tempered gremlin ZZS was in these early eps. He is so fk’n put out that these people will not let him drink himself to death in the gutter in peace! Or, you know, in occasional Nightly Nails Torment. And the exasperation from both ZZS and Chengling over WKX’s antics – both of their faces are priceless in the scene when they discover he’s the one who’s bought out all the rooms at the inn. I literally lol’d. Again. Even knowing it was coming. All of this interaction is so delightful. This is actually the ep that provoked my very first WoH keysmash flailing Tumblr post and inaugurated the “wen kexing’s thirst is practically a third character” tag. I guess the biggest throughline for this ep is that we can continue to see how everything changes when we know about their previous relationship – things like WKX’s insistence that they have a “deep bond through fate” take on additional layers of meaning rather than just sounding like some dude who’s trying to pick you up at last call. Interesting that ZZS describes WKX at one point during their push-pull conversational dance as “like a wretched soul that keeps haunting around.” You mean, like a GHOST? Like a Ghost Valley ghost? Like the almost forgotten memory of a past life ghost? ZZS wants to know why WKX keeps following him around, and it would be nice if WKX would just come clean, but that would be too easy, wouldn’t it?

ZZS, re: Chengling: I do my best to ensure what was entrusted to me.

WKX: :makes (already! in ep 3!) yet another in a series of bad decisions not to say anything about the fact that he, himself, was in fact entrusted to ZZS:

Show: Here’s the first of many helpings of heartache to come. EAT IT. EAT IT ALL.

(Me: Well, here’s another AU idea: What would the course of this relationship be like if WKX flat-out asked ZZS what ZZS’s relationship to Four Seasons Manor was, and bare-faced claimed sanctuary as long-lost shidi Zhen Yan at this point? Because I bet there are plenty of ways that could actually go wrong. Not to mention the deliciousness of just watching them navigate a relationship shift that sudden. I feel like, at this point, WKX would have to be actively confrontational about it, would have to throw it in ZZS’s face – it would need to be something he did in the heat of anger, in order to have this pushed out past all of his fears. Like, you say that, but where were you when I needed you? Also, you think so, well what if your responsibility actually turned out to be the TERRIFYING GHOST VALLEY MASTER, what then, huh? And ZZS, still pretty actively suicidal over all of his failures, having to deal with what’s now being presented as YET ANOTHER FAILURE.)

Also, the theme of “knowing” (zhiji, the one I know) is starting to slide in sideways – we’re seeing a lot of back and forth between them asking about seeing the other’s “true face.” WKX says that he’ll tell ZZS what he (WKX) wants from him once he gets to see ZZS’s true face (LIES, it’s going to take a lot longer than that). ZZS asks to see WKX’s figurative true face, and WKX looks kind of sad and contemplative as he warns that it may be unappealing or terrifying. So, you know, we’re starting to poke at all the softest, most tender places and the issues that are going to stab me repeatedly in the heart for the rest of the show. We’re also already seeing the way Xiao Chu just layered in references throughout the script when she wrote it that call back to each other – it’s like almost any line of dialogue references three other lines of dialogue (and that’s without even getting into all of the literary references that I’m missing because I don’t have cultural context). You get things like WKX’s little speech right at the end that it’s hard to tell a ghost from a human, which on its face might be referring to the two “ghosts” that were coming for Chengling that he took care of and act as an admonishment to ZZS not to be so quick to assume they’re actually from Ghost Valley, but it also refers to WKX, himself, and specifically lays the groundwork (“someone wearing a ghost mask is not necessarily a ghost”) for his conversation in a later ep with ZZS when he asks if ZZS thinks he’s a good person, and also calls back (“someone who looks human may not be human”) to the line from earlier in this ep, itself, when WKX tells ZZS that perhaps WKX’s true face is terrifying. And so we get a nicely little wrapped package of the dichotomy of WKX and his issues. (As a somewhat related aside, A-Xiang’s little face when Zhou Zishu says all of the ghosts of Ghost Valley are full of evil (at 6:55). D: This reaction is obviously for herself, but also may be the first time she acts as proxy for Wen Kexing, as well.)

What else, what else?

So, nobody has a good opinion of the jianghu. WKX is going to be constantly all, “You killed my father, jianghu, prepare to die,” but ZZS also goes off about how it’s just about greed, hatred and ignorance, and yeah, I guess he’d have a pretty bad impression of it, when Prince Jin and Tian Chuang seemed like a better option than the pressure he was facing, trying to keep Siji Manor Sect alive back in the day. We talk a lot about WKX’s childhood trauma, because it’s so awful and right in our faces, but I don’t know how much we actually talk about the fact that ZZS was a teenager not much older than Chengling when he inherited a sect and tried desperately to keep it from being torn apart by the rest of the jianghu. I think we see some bitterness come out in the first few episodes – frankly, in this ep, he doesn’t seem to make much of a distinction between Ghost Valley and the rest of the jianghu. Also interesting that the metaphor he uses about the jianghu’s and Ghost Valley’s greed for the treasures of the Armory is “reaping without sowing,” given what we find out is actually in there in Ep 36.

We see our metaphor of light get pulled out again – this throughline strikes me as more like beads on a string than a thread, at this point, but maybe I’ll notice it more on this second time through … Anyway, WKX’s comment at 9:11 that it’s almost dawn is notable. Indeed, but is it because your plan is beginning to work and you can see the destruction of Ghost Valley and the jianghu coming down the pike, or is it because you’ve found your shixiong?

I notice WKX has color-coordinated ZZS and Chengling in the robes he bought for them, has already grouped them together, marked them as belonging to each other – he’s already subtly treating them as each other’s family. The show, with a particular lack of subtlety, also will have ZZS there to wake up Chengling from nightmares later in the end of the ep, as Chengling calls out for his dad in his sleep.

OK, Deng Kuan is the guy in charge of the Yueyang sect contingent that arrived in time to see the Mirror Lake chaos in Ep 2 and has taken charge of cleaning up the bodies in this ep. I actually overlooked him, pretty much, the first time around, but here, he’s already got Shen Shen yelling at him (in a completely ridiculous fashion) for not getting there in time to save the Mirror Lake Sect, so he’s just going to be a punching bag through the whole show, apparently. Shen Shen is wu-di, fifth (little) brother, and he refers to Chengling’s dad as si-ge, fourth (older) brother, so Shen Shen appears to be the youngest of the Five Lakes sworn brothers, leading me to believe that some of what makes him so insufferable through a lot of the show is baby brother syndrome. Also, Shen Shen and his group find the Soul Winding Threads of the Hanged Ghost … supposedly. I mean, the Hanged Ghost was the guy who we saw get got in Ep 1, soooooo …. (remember these Soul Winding Threads, btw).

*This got super long so I’m’a put this last bit under a cut, but I did try to start a running tally of who’s holding a piece of the Glazed Armor:

Each of the Five Lakes Alliance sects is supposed to have a piece of the Glazed Armor, yes? So, as of the end of Ep 3 (hierarchical bro-titles are from didi Shen Shen’s POV):

- Yueyang Sect, led by Gao Chong (da-ge) - presumably still has his

- Tai Hu Sect, led by Zhao Jing (er-ge) – presumably still has his

- Danyang Sect, led by Lu Taichong (san-ge, presumably) – apparently the sect has already been attacked off-screen (by “Ghost Valley?” and WHEN?), as we learn in Ep 3 that Lu-zongzhu has been killed and his remaining two tiny disciples have fled to the protection of Ao Laizi and Tai Shan Sect, one of the lesser sects, and are believed to have taken Danyang’s Glazed Armor with them. We learn this from Tao Hong, Lv Liu and Begger Gang Chief, but I notice that Gao Chong only mentions the Mirror Lake massacre as the precipitating event for the Hero’s Conference and total war on Ghost Valley – he doesn’t even mention Danyang Sect, so does Five Lakes not know about this yet?

- Mirror Lake Sect, led by Zhang Yusen (si-ge) – Zhang-zongzhu killed by “Ghost Valley” in Ep 2, Glazed Armor “missing” and speculated POST EP 2 to have been taken by Ghost Valley (but will turn up in a few eps, thanks to our little Goldbean)

- Dagu Shan Sect, led by Shen Shen (wu-di) – presumably still has his

And then we move to:

- Tai Shan Sect, led by Ao Laizi – in-world speculation is that he now has the Danyang Glazed Armor. We do see him near the end of the ep with the two tiny Danyang shidi, where he makes the intriguing comment that he’s going to follow their shifu’s last wishes and keep their Glazed Armor from falling into the hands of the Five Lakes Alliance, so what exactly was going on between San-ge and his sworn brothers at the time of his death? This group also is apparently being pursued by Shen Shen to get their Glazed Armor, and they make him sound awful. You need better PR, Shen Shen.

- Ghost Valley – POST EP 2, speculated to have taken the Mirror Lake Glazed Armor (FALSE)

NOTABLY, “Ghost Valley Master” set a lot of this chaos in motion in Ep 1 when he claimed that Hanged Ghost (who got got a scene earlier) had stolen HIS piece of the Glazed Armor, although he shouldn’t have a piece (supposedly) until after Ep 2, when he’s believed to have taken Mirror Lake’s. So, what piece would that be, exactly, Terrifying Ghost Valley Master? You wouldn’t be lying in pursuit of chaos would you? (Somewhere, WKX gasps theatrically behind his fan, and he doesn’t even know what motivated it, this time.)

#zhou zishu #wen kexing #gu xiang #zhang chengling #shen shen #deng kuan #word of honor #word of honor episode reax

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lonestarbabe · 3 years

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The Pie

[AO3]

TK just wants to make Carlos a nice meal, but he ends up having a much needed heart to heart instead (about the happenings of 2x08).

“I’m okay,” T.K. assures Carlos when he’s been asked if he is okay for the ninth time, and it’s not a lie. He is okay when you think of okay as being a middle ground between awful and good. He’s getting through the day, and he’s learned that, sometimes, that has to be enough, but it’s not enough for Carlos, who has been on edge since the whole thing. T.K.’s learned the words “I’m okay,” are better than “It wasn’t a big deal,” because to Carlos, it was a big deal. It still is. T.K. learned to be careful how he phrased things when he made one too many ill-timed jokes about being through worse.

Carlos isn’t quick to anger, but like anyone, anxiety puts him on edge, and T.K. focuses on dancing around Carlos’ mood because he doesn’t want to think about what happens. He’d rather put all his attention on the man he loves because service always makes T.K. feel like he’s got everything under control. He’s not forced to think about himself.

“What’s all this?” Carlos asks when he sees the meal on the table. He looks tense, and T.K. wants to tell him that the dinner may not be gourmet, but it’s nothing to look grim about.

“I made you dinner.” He’d worked damn hard on it too. “I can cook, you know.”

“I’m just surprised.” Carlos has kept his difference. He hasn’t even stepped into the kitchen to give T.K. a hello kiss. The air conditioning kicks off, so the air between them becomes still and stale.

“You look mad,” T.K. finally says.

“I don’t want you to push yourself too hard.

“All I have is a concussion and not even the worst one I’ve had.” He speaks before he can think better of it, “It wasn’t even a near-death situation.”

“Being held hostage is automatically a near-death situation.” Carlos shakes his head. “And you’ve experienced gun violence twice in less than a year.”

“I was only hit by the gun the second time around.”

“You’re not dealing with it, T.K.,” Carlos says, dropping into the barstool.

T.K. eases onto the other stool. He leans over to give Carlo a kiss. “Just because I’m dealing with it well doesn’t mean I’m not dealing with it.”

“We haven’t really talked about it.”

“There’s not much left to say.” Carlos’ face falls. “Unless you have something you need to get off your chest. I know a lot happened to you that day as well.” T.K. puts some of the tuna casserole on his plate, and he pushes the dish towards Carlos. “Help yourself. It’s good. My mom used to make this for me.”

Carlos dumps a of couple spoonfuls onto his plate. “You’re bottling things up.”

“I’m not, really,” T.K. says between bites of food. “Do you like it?”

“You can’t go wrong with a casserole.” Carlos doesn’t look that invested in the meal, though. “Don’t try to change the subject.”

“I can go very wrong with a casserole.”

“T.K.,” Carlos admonished.

“What, Carlos?” T.K. raises his voice. “I keep telling you that I’m dealing with it, but you won’t let it go. I don’t know what you want me to say. If you need to talk about your feelings, I’m here to listen, but I have none of my own to talk about.”

“You’re lying to me. That’s a feeling I have.”

“Not telling you everything I feel is different than lying.”

“You say you’re okay, but you’re obviously not.”

“I’m acting normally,” T.K. insists.

“Yeah, acting, but I know that you’re not sleeping.”

“If you know that, you must not be sleeping either.”

“Mostly because I can feel you tossing and turning.”

“You should have told me I was keeping you up.” The last thing T.K. had wanted was to bother Carlos, but he also hadn’t wanted to spend his nights alone either. Insomnia was better with company.

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad, but my point is that keeping whatever you’re feeling to yourself is not good for anyone. Being in a relationship means that when one of us isn’t okay, we’re not okay together.”

“I’m tired of feeling bad, so I’ve decided that I’m not going to give into those feelings anymore. We were doing so well, and then that shit happened and brought up stuff that gets in the way of that blissful feeling we had.”

“You’ll feel worse if you don’t get all of this off your chest.”

“Feelings always go away eventually.”

“Not when you don’t deal with them.”

“I don’t know if—”

“Babe, do you smell something burning?”

“Fuck,” T.K. said, flying off his chair to the oven. “My pie.” He scrambles to pull oven mitts over his hands. He pulls out a pie that’s a little too brown on the top. “I was trying to make a pie for you” He slams the plate on the counter and his fist on the counter. “And now it’s ruined.”

“Woah, there’s no need to get so worked up. The middle will still taste good,” Carlos promises him. “It’s not that bad.”

“That’s not the point.” T.K. hits the counter again, harder than the last time.

Carlos reaches over the counter and takes T.K.’s smarting hand in his. He keeps his hold as he gets up from his chair and walks around the counter to stand in front of T.K. “Don’t hurt yourself like that.” Carlos always gets a panicked look in his eyes when T.K.’s self-destructive side shines through. The pain doesn’t feel good, but it feels grounding, and it helps T.K. pull his head from the floaty land of thoughts that always leads to trouble.

“At least it will distract me from the concussion,” T.K. says, voice like a ceramic knife going through butter.

Carlos kisses T.K.’s hand and tugs him closer. “It’s just a pie. It’s nothing to cry over.” All T.K. wanted was to create a good evening for his boyfriend, but he’d forgotten to set the timer, and ruined his hard work.

“Yeah, well, why is it that nothing ever goes right? Every time I try to do something, it spirals into disaster territory.” He wonders why his endeavors always turn to hell. It seems like some cosmic force is working against him, showing him that for every victory, there will be multiple disasters.

“It’ll get better.”

“That’s the problem!”

“What do you mean?” Carlos asks, and T.K. feels stupid for opening his mouth because he doesn’t know how to make what he’s thinking make sense, which is exactly why he’d been dodging thinking about it all together.

“The good times all always end, and then they revert to being shitty times. Just when you start to get comfortable, life says, ‘Fuck you.’”

“Yeah, I guess it feels that way sometimes.”

“But?”

“But what?”

“You always have a but and then a positive, feel-good spin to add on.” That’s one of the things that T.K. likes so much about Carlos. He has unshakable optimism. He’s not naïve in his optimism, but he always believes there’s still good in the world. For all the bad he has seen, he still wants to trust that people are good, and he wants to help as many people as he can.

“You’ve changed a lot since I met you.”

“And that’s your positive spin.”

“Before it used to be your instinct to shut down or get angry when things got too real. Instead of talking about how you were feeling, you lashed out. You ran away. You got into fights.”

“I still do those things.” He’s still got a volatile edge that he can’t shake, and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to shake it. He’s mellow most of the time, but when anxiety kicks in and his childhood traumas are tickled, he loses control.

“Sometimes, but you’ve also learned to do other things instead. Life is always going to have lows, but you know how to survive those lows.”

“I was scared I was going to die,” T.K. admits. “And there were times when I wouldn’t have cared. But this time, I did care because I finally knew what it meant to live without a weight on my chest, but now the weight is back. It’s there when I try to sleep. It’s there at work. It’s there when we have dinner or watch movies. No matter what I do, I can’t stop thinking about how I actually have things to lose now. I have friends, a family, and a boyfriend who somehow loves me with his whole heart.” T.K. takes a breath. “And it’s not just about losing all the good people I now have in my life. I also look in the mirror and I realize that I don’t want to lose myself when I’ve only just started to be a person I don’t hate.”

Carlos nods in understanding. “Sounds like you’ve been thinking about this a lot.”

T.K. gives a small smile, “How’s that for talking about my feelings?”

“It’s a start.”

#text #911 lone star #911 lone star fic #My writing #Elise Writes #My Fics #1000 - 3000 words

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whump-town · 3 years

Text

Heart Attack

This one goes out to whoever said “death. this is how i confess love”.

I will write the other fic as well

Warning: Major Character Death (rip my favorite big old idiot)

The initial weakness in his left arm is not noteworthy. The deep ache, daggers shooting from the inside of his wrist to the clavicle, are sadly not either. Chronic pain is just a part of his daily life and after the ugly, deep scars Foyet left on his forearms, not even simple movements are free. He’s always assumed Foyet put them, the long slashed scars that look nearly self-inflicted, there just for show, claiming him perhaps but certainly to maim. Doesn’t matter right much now, all he knows for certain is that it hurts and there’s nothing he can do about it.

It happens so frequently that it nearly slips his mind-- as much as pain can but what he really means is that the coffee in his hand slips. He’s standing in the kitchen, contemplating taking an Advil to at least dull the pain enough to better concentrate on the book he’s been trying to finish since Friday. “Fuck.” His left hand just releases the mug. He liked that mug. Advil it is.

His days pass in quiet contemplation. Just him and these beige walls. He misses the days that were filled by Jack’s toddling steps, rampant little footsteps, and happy squeals of delight. Coming home to the sound of some new band Jack’s conjured up and is going to torture him with for the next week until he moves on to the next. He misses Emily and Dave and having drinks on his couch. Being forced to go to Dave’s for family dinners and Emily coming by, uninvited, of course, to eat his ice cream and make fun of his documentaries.

Now he’s alone most of the time. Well, unless Jessica coming by to count to his pills counts. He doesn’t really think it should but she means well. Someone has to make sure he doesn’t just die on them but would they even notice?

Not immediately, not for a while.

Maybe if something strange happens on a case but those calls come less and less frequently. No one needs his specific knowledge. Emily is becoming an assured leader and she doesn’t even call him to fuss about the idiots that he hired and left her to deal with. He and Dave don’t really talk anymore. The best he gets, these days, is a quick update if someone gets hurt just so that he doesn’t worry if it pops up on the news.

Jack is off at college now. Hotch can’t blame him for being fairly radio silent but it does give him something to work with every few weeks when Jack does remember that he exists and sends a thousand-odd texts his way.

So, if he just… died no one would notice until Jessica’s Thursday visit. Even then, she’s just here to look at the pillbox he leaves on the counter for her easy access. She just checks what she has to and leaves. Life goes on.

As he’s crouched on his kitchen floor, mumbling very inappropriate and obscenity-ridden things, he feels that lightheaded fog encroach. Something that he really only knows from other encounters, one that he doesn’t associate with immediate danger. He takes a fist-full of medication each morning and roughly two list lightheadedness as a side-effect. While a dangerous fallout of Foyet’s stabbing is this strange platelet problem that messes with his iron. So while he sits for a moment and breathes through the feeling of his body trying to give out on him he assumes this problem is what it always is: his awful health.

He gets the coffee cleaned up with a towel but leaves the towel over the broken bits of the mug. The cartilage in his knees saw better days roughly twenty-years ago and by the time that the coffee has been contained, he can hardly stand the pain in them. So, guiding himself with a hand on the counter (then leaning on the wall and using a kitchen chair and so on and so forth until he gets to the couch) Hotch limps away from the kitchen.

He’s never been so thankful for his habitual manners as he sinks into the cozy couch and finds his heated blanket already plugged in and sitting on the lowest heat. A fire hazard? Yeah probably but if this damned blanket kills him one day then so be it. He finds some background noise in a nature documentary about penguins and closes his eyes, waiting for the blanket’s heat to soothe his old bones.

Despite how far he’s pushed himself down into the blanket, his body breaks out in a cold sweat. His chest tight and arm throbbing or maybe stabbing-- he can’t tell the difference right now just blinded by the pain. Blind and so stupid and as he sits up, shaking he’s shivering so hard, he knows what’s happening.

Haley used to dismiss his fears with soothing promises. She wouldn’t let something like this happen to him. They’d get old together “so old we start to wish one of us would just die and get it over with but every day I’ll turn over in our bed and find your craggy, old face right beside me and I know I’d still love you so much it hurts”. But Haley died before she even turned forty and he’s spent too many birthdays and anniversaries alone to know she couldn’t have meant that.

Drunk, vulnerable with the recent loss of Haley and the sudden return of Emily he’d admitted to this fear. Not just dying alone but of dying like his father-- a hated bastard on the outside with no family and no loved ones. To paint the wall with the horror in Dave and Emily’s face could stand as a solid reminder that he is loved but those faces mean nothing. The way that Emily had hugged him that night is nothing. Despite their assurances, he can feel his heart skipping beats. Painful kicks, each one.

He is alone. Gasping as he struggles to fight off his anxiety and crying through the agony ripping chest. Alone. Curled down into himself to try and find some comfort.

He manages to call 911. As he’s blinking tears from his eyelashes there’s a moment where the only number he can think of is Garcia. For years her number was his emergency number and now … He’s still thinking about her when the operator picks up but he’s losing his functions so fast. Settling back on the couch, using what’s left of his energy to tuck his feet back under his black he does his best to stay awake and hum in response to questions.

He thinks about Garcia. She’s always there, he finds, in his mind and every accident he’s had. Even during Boston despite the fact that she just joined the BAU. She’s always there and he wonders if she’ll appear this time. Talk his ear off about David Bowe but hold his hand tight enough that he never has to question if she’s really there.

Heart attacks hurt a lot worse than internal bleeding but he’d, personally, still put it under being actually stabbed.

He doesn’t hear the paramedics arrive or even feel the IV being placed in his arm. Though unconscious, he gives the faintest whimper of discontent as he’s lifted and pulled away from the couch. Not given the chance to brace for the cold winter air of March in Virginia just moving and moving fast.

“Agent Hotchner?”

He groans, turning his head from the penlight shining down in his face. Though he moves his face, he can’t escape the tight pressure across his ribs. Constricting tightly. The agent bit catches him by surprise-- he’s been “Mr” now for some time. Very few people still throw the “agent” in there.

“There you are--”

The sirens make it hard to hear. His hearing has been going for some time but if there’s one thing he can take from this encounter it might be that he should invest in the hearing aids he’s been putting off for a while now. He blinks up at the woman talking to him. Gently pumping a blood pressure cuff around his bicep and calling his name when his eyes slide back shut. He does try to stay awake but he’s in a lot of pain and he’s tired. Even retired he doesn’t get much sleep.

He’ll have to remember to tell JJ that. She’s always worried about his sleep schedule (or lack thereof) and thought, or rather hoped, his retirement would bring him the chance to finally catch up on two decades’ worth of lost sleep. She’ll be disappointed but not surprised.

It’ll give him a reason to reach out, to talk with them.

“Stay with me, Agent Hotchner.”

The world rocks and something that taste like plastic is placed over his face, wrapped around the back of his head.

“Deep breathes, you’re doing just fine.”

The cold air hits his sternum and his eye fly open, panicking as hands touch his bare skin. Oh, God. Foyet. I have to stop-- someone much stronger than him grabs his wrist. Two hands push his shoulders down into the gurney and he can’t fight. Can’t move.

“Agent Hotchner,” someone tries to calm him. “We’re trying to help you. I understand you’re in a lot of pain--”

He wants to go home. Away from the cold and the hands that keep touching him. “Dave?” he pants, turning his head and searching through the hazy mess of people. He cries softly, tears stinging his face as they slide down his face. He wants to recognize one person, to know one of the hands belongs to someone he trusts. Dave is okay. He likes it when Dave touches him. It’s calming and reassuring and he wants someone to call Dave. “Please,” he whimpers, curling his legs as he feels someone tear the worn fabric of his jeans. “No. No.”

He’s confused and he’s in pain and he wants all these people to stop touching him.

“Aaron--”

No, no he doesn’t like that. He cries out, failing to dislodge the hands as he kicks out. All his height, all the power he’s spent decades learning to command is useless. “I want to go home,” he rasps desperately. He can’t move, anymore. They’re holding him down and he can feel the drugs pumping into his arm. Too cold and too fast and it all hurts. Why are they hurting him?

“Just stay with us, Agent. We’re almost done and then--”

For the first time in nearly twenty years, all of his pain just is gone. He feels nothing for a blissful second. Around him, there’s a panic. The machines attached to him frantically going off as his heartbeat goes from rampant, wrong to gone. The pain comes back suddenly, sharper than before, and he turns his head with a moan as his lungs contract painfully. He coughs, rasping as his chest heaves.

He slips back under the haze but this time the pain stays.

He chokes as they try to intubate, fighting weekly but he’s too far gone to even move away from the touch anymore. Dave isn’t there. He wishes Dave were here. Dave always cups the side of his head, speaking in soft Italian that he’s never managed to pick up. But it’s soft and gentle and Dave. Garcia doesn’t hold his hand-- she always holds his hand. There’s not the soft scent of lavender that comes in with the hard rain that is Emily Prentiss. No one to jostle him for his carelessness and then crawl up into the bed with him. Reminding him of memories he’s nearly forgotten of when they were just kids.

No Jack.

Jack’s at college.

He comes in at 9:45 a.m.

By 10:15 a.m. there’s a doctor over his chest. A nurse makes quick work of trying to get a hold of a medical proxy. There’s a kid, he has a son, but there’s no contact information listed for him. She gets voicemail twice from the numbers that are listed.

Jessica is in a meeting. Her phone is on silent. It wouldn’t have mattered if she’d had her phone. He’s thirty minutes away and his heart gives out only twenty minutes after he arrives at the hospital.

Dave is in Seattle, sitting in a puddle of rainwater and trying to contain his anger as Luke changes a tire on the SUV. His phone is too wet to work. He won’t get the news until nearly two hours later when he and Luke arrive back at the precinct. Emily will not cry for nearly a week after she gets the news. She tells Jack.

The doctors assure them that there was nothing they could have done. It was a freak accident. They always knew this was a possibility, an outcome that was very real with the amount of damage done to Aaron’s heart. It’s been broken so many times… And standing in that hospital, shivering under the intensity of the air conditioning and the white burning paint, they are left with the burden of knowing he protected them tell the very end.

But they never reciprocated that care.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction

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jinmukangwrites · 4 years

Note

i'm not a big fan of DC, but I have a general knowledge of it. Perhaps something to do with some some family bonding with the bat family? it doesn't have to be fluffy, but it would be nice to see that something nice is happening to this found family of people, even if it's small. good luck and may you have success and fortune in your future!

So this ended up not being a drabble. Oops. Listen, I've been wanting to write a camping-esque fic for a long time and somehow this just ended up being it. >.<

-o-o-o-o-

It is Dick's first camping trip.

He's young, bright eyed, and smiling like there's nothing to be down about even though Bruce knows they're both painfully aware it's only been a month since his world quite literally fell apart.

Bruce doesn't really know what he's doing, having not gone camping himself in what must be over a decade, but he still successfully sets up a decent tent large enough for four sleeping bags, but has more than enough room for two. Alfred is on a well deserved vacation, so there's no need to make room for a third one. It's just Bruce Wayne and his new ward Dick Grayson, alone in the wilderness with a bag of marshmallows open between the two of them and a campfire crackling in front of them. It's Dick that shows him how to roast the perfect "mallow", and that apparently involves shoving the entire marshmallow into the center of the flame and laughing maniacally until it blackens and chars. Bruce almost has a panic attack just watching Dick bring the flaming marshmallow out to his face to blow out the fire.

Bruce remembers the times he's watched people roast marshmallows in movies, and he decides holding it just above the worst of the flames until it's a golden brown is the way for him.

There's owls hooting softly around them when the moon reaches high enough to suggest maybe calling it a night. Another tell-tale sign is Dick ever so slowly leaning against his side, all bundled up in a warm oversized jacket; marshmallow, chocolate, and graham cracker residue dried to his lips and cheeks.

Bruce stares at watches for a moment, before smiling, something he thought he lost when he watched his parents die clinking back into place in his chest. Filling him with a warmth he never thought he'd ever have again.

He scoops Dick up and bundles him into his sleeping bag. Dick is out like a light, mouth open in soft snores, and Bruce frowns, a desire in him that he doesn't understand.

He pokes Dick's shoulder gently, making sure the child is asleep, and Bruce sucks in a lungful of air. Unsure and afraid. He runs his fingers through Dick's hair, lifting up his messy bangs, and slowly bends down and presses his lips against the child's forehead. He then backs quickly away, his heart pounding.

Dick was never supposed to be his son, but pretty early on Bruce discovered how much of a lie that was.

-o-o-o-o-

It's Jason's first time camping. His second time in the mountains as well.

Dick took him skiing for his first time, but Bruce at least gets to take him for his first night out in the fresh wilderness of the Appalachian mountains. Just the two of them this time, being as Dick is still angry with him. And while that hurts, Bruce is content with spending some much needed one on one time with his newest adopted son. (Because he knows now he made a mistake keeping Dick away at arms length with the word "ward", and now it's too late to take it back. He won't make the same mistake with this one).

Jason seems more concerned with running around and climbing trees than eating marshmallows. Surprisingly, more concerned than Dick was. Though that doesn't mean he still doesn't enjoy a marshmallow here and there, especially since a new kind has come out recently that makes the marshmallows even bigger and puffier when roasted over the fire. Good for nothing but sugar. Not that Bruce minds. He can't remember the last time Jason looked so relaxed as he stands and watches Jason marvel at a waterfall they've hiked to. If it earns that kind of wide eyed unashamed smile, Bruce would gladly invest in the company making even bigger marshmallows.

Bruce finds quickly that Jason also thinks Bruce makes marshmallows wrong. He knows this because as stuck the sugary monstrosity on his roasting stick and gently held it above the fire, Jason cried out in outrage.

"You're making it wrong!" He yelled as he grabbed Bruce's arm and dragged it away from the fire. Bruce is almost afraid that he'll demonstrate how to make a proper smore by shoving the whole thing into the middle of the fire to blacken it like Dick does. He doesn't want to know what kind of mess a marshmallow this size would make on fire, but the Jason shocks him by rushing into the tent and stumbling out a moment later with a colorful bag in his hands.

Starbursts?

"Where did you get those?" Bruce asks, trying not to sound amused that Jason snuck candy with him out on the trip.

Jason snorts, opening the bag and pulling out a pink square. "I asked Alfie to get me some, because I knew you'd be uncultured in making a freaking smore."

Jason then impales the unwrapped pink starburst on the roasting stick next to Bruce's waiting marshmallow. He unwraps a yellow one and puts it on his own stick. "The red ones are gross, by the way," Jason says, sticking his stick above the fire. Bruce huffs out a small laugh and puts his stick over the fire as well.

He's not sure what he feels about the taste of roasted starburst mixing with the marshmallow, chocolate, and cracker, but Jason eats enough to gain a stomach ache.

Bruce carries him to bed too, and tucks him in, and instead of waiting for him to fall asleep, Bruce carefully pulls Jason closer to his chest, and because his arms are full of legs and arms, he kisses Jason's forehead with a layer of hair between them.

Jason doesn't pull away. Just yawns happily, and falls asleep in Bruce's arms.

Bruce decides that camping trips for Jason is definitely a thing he needs to make a regular thing. Just to see his boy look so peaceful and happy in his arms.

-o-o-o-o-

It's not Tim's first time camping. But Bruce suspects it's the first time Tim actually has fun camping, as well as his first time making smores.

Dick's here this time too, the relationship between him and Bruce held together by paperclips and string. Which is saying something, as it used to be held together by nothing at all. Bruce is just happy that he's here and that they're civil enough with each other to let Tim be a disgusting, dirty, rowdy child in the mountains for the first time in his entire life.

Tim stood at the edge of the river, but ended up being shoved in by Dick, and they both came back sopping wet and laughing.

Tim picked at the bark of a large tree, but ended up in its highest branches when Bruce lifted him over his shoulders to give him a headstart.

Tim frowned at the marshmallow bag and sticks, but ended up with a mess all over his face, pupils wide in the firelight as the sugar gave him a rush.

Bruce roastes his above the flame and Dick tries to convince Tim that sticking the entire thing into the fire is the only right way to roast a good marshmallow. When Tim looks unsure and tries both with uncertainty, Bruce takes a chance and pulls out a bag of starbursts he almost decided to leave behind.

And once Tim tries the roasted starburst s'more, the rest of the s'more actually goes forgotten as Tim decides roasted starbursts is best left left alone—he snacks on almost the entirety of the bag, and Bruce tries his best to not let the stabbing in his heart ruin the moment. He wonders how well Jason and Tim would get along if Jason... But he shakes his head, choosing instead to point out the glowing little light in the forest that isn't the stars.

It's not Tim's first time seeing fireflies. But it's his first time running through the trees with a jar, holes poked into the top to capture them.

When it gets so late that even Bruce is beginning to yawn, he corrals his oldest and unofficial youngest into the tent and frowns at how even though the packaging said it's big enough for four people, it's still quite squeezed together with two grown men and a lanky young teen.

Bruce ruffles Tim's hair, squeezed Dick's shoulder, and for once Dick doesn't flinch at his touch. Just smiles and kisses Tim's forehead. Bruce is almost tempted to copy the action, the night feeling wrong without it, but Tim has parents.

Tim isn't his son. Isn't even his ward. He hugs Tim, and finds himself hugging him tightly, only letting go when Tim voices slight confusion.

They lay down in their spots, the silence of the world being interrupted once as Tim verbally complains about Dick's feet finding themselves under his legs.

"But you're so warm, baby bird!"

The sound of Tim's laughter is something Bruce wishes he had been quick enough to record, so he could listen to it over and over and over again.

Tim's not Bruce's ward. Or son.

But it's so easy to selfishly wish he were.

-o-o-o-o-

It's not Cass's first time camping. But it's her first time camping for something other than survival. Which means it's definitely her first time making s'mores.

Taking her out to the woods is nerve-wracking in a way that it shouldn't be. She's his daughter. Officially. Legally. Not by blood. Bruce doesn't have anyone who's by blood. But she's definitely the closest thing to it in his heart. She's different from the boys. He doesn't know what to expect from her.

She doesn't go out and get all gross and muddy in the river with Tim, and she doesn't take up Dick's bet to climb to the top of the waterfall. Instead, Bruce finds her sitting nearby with a notebook in her hands, her hand scribbling away at something with a pen. She looks up at him and smiles, but closes the notebook and sets it off to the side, patting the ground next to her. He takes her up on her invitation and sits down besides her, their shoulders gently touching. He glances at the notebook, raising an inquisitive eyebrow, but she just smiles and shakes her head. He doesn't pry. She didn't grow up with a whole lot of privacy, and Bruce isn't about to take some away from her.

She sighs and leans back into the soft grass patch she found, and he lays back too, shoulders still touching. They're silent for a long time, the only noises around them being the leaves rustling and the distant sounds of Tim and Dick trying to figure out how to lash a rope around a tree near the river so they could swing into it.

Bruce finds himself, not for the first time, missing Jason more than ever. Jason is alive. He's back. But he hates Bruce and wants nothing to do with Bruce. Jason would be all over getting that rope swing to work. Bruce can practically imagine his young voice screaming in excitement as he launches himself into the water.

He forces those thoughts away, because this isn't about Jason right now. This is about the beautiful, perfect young lady laying besides him. His daughter. He looks over at her, and her eyes are closed and her lips turned up in a slight smile. Her bare toes wiggling in the breeze.

And Bruce thinks that maybe it's a good thing Cass isn't out and about causing trouble and getting dirty, because maybe to her that's not what this trip is about. Maybe it's just about showing her that she can sit back, close her eyes, and wiggle her toes in the breeze and be safe without having to feel obligated to do anything.

Because she is safe. And Bruce will never let anything hurt her.

When they roast marshmallows, she watched with amusement as Dick interrupts Bruce showing her the normal way to do it by shoving his own into the flames. She watches as Tim shows her how to carefully make a roasted starburst that isn't too stuff nor too drippy. She watches as Bruce suggests making a s'more with a starburst. And she tries them all, a frown on her lips the entire time. When no strategy seems to stick out to her, Bruce almost panics, not sure how to make the night fun and full of sugar like he wants to, but then she pops a raw marshmallow into her mouth with a curious tilt to her head, and then a chunk of raw chocolate, and then a bite of plain cracker.

She then quickly gains her own stash of untouched s'more supplies and her roasting stick goes forgotten. Bruce doesn't know what's so much better about eating the ingredients raw, but the sound of her muffled laughter behind a mouthful of marshmallow and chocolate as Dick struggles to blow out a flaming one is definitely something Bruce will not complain about or try to change.

Going to bed is a hassle. He brought two tents this time, just in case Cass wanted to sleep alone, and at first he thinks that is actually what will happen. He hugs her before they go their seperate ways, the urge to kiss her round cheeks stronger than ever, but he doesn't get the chance. Or the courage.

But he finds he didn't need to worry, because when he, Tim, and Dick are all snug in their bags, the zipper of their tent goes down and Bruce has the air knocked out of him as Cass collapses on top of him, wrapped up in a fluffy pink blanket that she bought with Barbara. Bruce finds himself grinning as he shifts to make room for her between him and the snoring Dick, careful to not nudge the half asleep Tim too much whose under his arm on the other side.

Then, when Cass is nestled in his side, she does another thing that pleasantly surprised him. She presses her lips to his temple.

And Bruce falls asleep that night not knowing what he's done to deserve Cassandra Wayne.

-o-o-o-o-

It's not Damian's first time camping. It's not his first time making s'mores. It's not even his first time having fun while camping.

Bruce was thought to be dead for almost a year, and Dick was the one who got the honor of doing those first things with Damian.

But dammit, Bruce was going to try and do this with Damian anyway, even if Damian is quiet and unsure and distrustful with Bruce.

So maybe that's why Bruce thought it was so important for it to be just him and Damian this time. Maybe this is why he didn't ask Dick how Damian liked to roast his marshmallows, or ask Alfred if he needed to bring an emergency bag of starbursts, or even considered bringing a second tent just in case Damian wanted to sleep alone.

Bruce is Damian's father. His biological one. But he doesn't feel like it.

He wants to feel like it.

He woke Damian up at the spur of the moment and coaxed the boy into the car stuffed with a weakened supply of things to get them through a surprise camping trip. Damian was too groggy in the morning to ask much questions, blinking fully awake an hour into the drive and asking with a quiet voice where they were going.

And when Bruce answered they were going to camp, Damian didn't respond with joy or excitement. Just a quiet oh that almost made Bruce pull over the car and beg Damian to let Bruce in and let him see what he's thinking.

He keeps driving, all the way until he's at the normal spot by the river and a trailhead that leads to a waterfall. Damian walks the grounds quietly as Bruce sets up the tent, his footsteps sure and curiosity lacking. He's been here before. To Bruce's perfect camping spot.

And Bruce wasn't there.

The rest of the day goes about as well as could be expected. Damian hardly says anything to Bruce, the words he does say are tense and tight, like the very thought of saying any unnecessary words to Bruce is painful. Bruce tries not to take it to heart, so he continues onward. He takes Damian hiking, he takes him to the river, and eventually they both end up at the campfire in uncomfortable silence.

Bruce watches as Damian puts the marshmallow on his stick and holds it slightly above the flames, waiting patiently for the flames to lick the white sugar golden.

Bruce sighs and risks a joke. "Finally, a son that makes s'mores normally."

He didn't expect Damian to stand up with anger in his eyes before tossing the stick down and running off into the forest. The marshmallow left forgotten as it bursts into flames in the coals.

Bruce only hesitates a second before standing up and running after his son.

Because even if he's terrified Damian wants nothing to do with him, Bruce still wants to make sure he doesn't get himself hurt in the woods.

He eventually finds Damian sitting in Cass's spot. That perfect patch of grass that's perfect for laying down in and cloud gazing. Or, this late at night, perfect for milky-way gazing.

Damian isn't looking up at the stars though. He's curled up and glaring at his feet, something suspiciously wet trailing down his cheeks.

Bruce takes in a breath, hoping bravery would enter his lungs as well, and sits down next to his son.

They're silent next to each other, for a long time, until Damian finally decides to speak up.

"You came," he says, and Bruce wants desperately to launch himself forward and wrap the boy I'm a strong embrace. "You followed me."

"I will always find you," Bruce says, and Damian sniffs.

"If... If I wasn't your kid... Would you still..."

And Bruce remembers that Damian grew up being told he was simply a tool. That he had a purpose and he was only wanted because of that purpose.

He's asking Bruce if Bruce would have still wanted him, even if their blood wasn't the same. If Bruce had no obligation to take him in and give him safety and allow him to be the second half of the dynamic duo.

Or if he would have turned the boy away.

It breaks Bruce's heart.

So he slowly reaches around Damian and pulls him closer tightly. Damian sniffles and practically launches himself into Bruce's lap, arms curling around so small that it's not a complete hug, but it's tight enough to be one of the best kinds of hugs.

"I will always want you, Damian," Bruce whispers into his hair, pressing his lips onto his forehead before he can even consider the action. "You have no need to worry. I want you more than anything in this entire world."

And they sit there, holding each other, and Bruce wonders if this is what his own parents felt for him.

And if they'd be proud of him.

Bruce carries Damian to bed after they've both let out their emotions, and even though tent is large enough to have space, he keeps Damian with him, in his arms even as he climbs into his sleeping bag.

And he's never letting go.

-o-o-o-o-

It's nowhere near Duke's first time camping, or making s'mores, or having fun, or feeling safe. But it is his first time camping with Bruce and the rest of the family.

Dick, Tim, Cass, Damian, and even Jason are all here, and Bruce won't lie and say he didn't find it amusing how intimidated Duke needlessly felt to be on a family camping trip with everyone.

It's the loudest trip Bruce had ever been apart of. The children are back to figuring out that pesky rope swing—Tim snuck a grapple hook and had the decency to look a little ashamed when Bruce noticed it—and Cass is at her normal spot with her normal notebook. Duke looks unsure and nervous, not really knowing where he fits in with all of this.

Bruce adopted most of his children when they were all young, Cass being the exception but it wasn't like she had a good experience with her last parents, so it was almost like adopting her young. But Duke is different, he's a teenager, considering college and everything. He already knows how to drive a car. He'd already had loving parents. Bruce doesn't want to step in front of that, but he still wants Duke to feel welcome and loved.

One of Bruce's favorite things in the entire world is to watch Duke slowly exit his shell that he crawls into whenever he's nervous or feeling like he's imposing. The smirk on his face that appears when Dick calls him a genius for finally being the one to figure out the rope swing. The bubbling and nervous laughter when Jason slams a hand proudly at his back when he beats the rest of the family up the waterfall in their annual race. The excited chatter when Tim shows him the best climbing tree. The relaxed posture when Cass shows him something in her notebook, and the happy smile when Cass takes his feedback in consideration. The mischievous glint in his eyes when he and Damian get into a competitive spar with pool noodles.

Bruce finds his chest so full with warmth he almost thinks it's going to burst as eventually they all end up around the campfire with roasting sticks in everyone's hands except for Cass who has her own stash of s'more supplies. Jason and Tim fight over the bag of starbursts even though Bruce was sure he brought two. Dick laughs as Damian yells angrily about his flaming marshmallow catching Damian's on fire. Cass munches on a cracker and leans into Bruce's side. Duke sits besides them all, tongue sticking outside his mouth as he concentrates on making a marshmallow that isn't golden, but isn't completely raw.

No one bugs him on his strange "I don't want it burned at all!" comment, and they all include him in their jokes and bantering. The laughter becomes do loud that Bruce is sure the entire forest can hear them.

He relishes in it. Almost feeling like he might cry.

But he doesn't. The moon rises and be ushers the kids all towards that four person tent. It's too tiny, but nobody seems to care. Not even Jason who's only made one comment about Bruce being a billionaire who's definitely rich enough to afford a bigger tent.

Because, somehow, with or without Bruce, the family had ended up close and wanting to be close together. Dick doesn't complain as Cass lays herself on top of him. Tim only snarls a little when Jason jokingly stuffs his feet in the younger boys face. Damian crawls into Bruce's side like it's the most natural thing in the world. And Duke accepts the strong hug Bruce risks and gives him. Duke then lays down with his back against Bruce's free side and his legs on top of Jason, like a puzzle piece falling into place.

And the family all fall asleep to the sounds of nature surrounding them, and the soft snores of the people they all hold dear.

And Bruce thinks that taking in a kid who's just watched his family fall from the trapeze, a kid who tried to jack the batmobile, a kid who showed up with a camera in his hands and a demand to make him Robin, a kid who decided love and happiness was more important than the way she was taught and raised, a kid who decided he didn't want to be the weapon he was born to be, and a kid who only wanted to do good after his parents were torn away from him was without question the best thing Bruce had ever done.

And he wouldn't have it any other way.

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excitedlysuffering · 4 years

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hey can you do the headcanons collection thing for shikamaru pls ?

I love this boy honestly like I’m obsessed lmao

I’m also surprised but happy the HC collection is becomin a thing XD

Shikamaru Headcanons Collection

What He Looks For In An S/O~

• Shikamaru is a laid back person, and he’d definitely want an S/O who is chill

• This boy is a GENIUS so he’d be bored with someone who couldn’t hold an intelligent conversation

• I’ve already said it, but someone who’s CHILL, Shika can’t handle a wild S/O

• He would prefer someone more on the homebody side, he doesn’t want to be dragged on adventures all the time ever

• He probably wouldn’t care if they were a civilian, he’d always wanted a plain life anyways

• Shikamaru wouldn’t want your relationship to be scheduled and busy, he’d prefer someone who didn’t mind simple things or spontaneous things

• A patient S/O is mandatory cause do you know how many hours he spends doing nothing and being quiet? He’ll need a saint

• He needs someone who has a passion for things they love, the way he is with his friends/teammates and shogi

• An accepting S/O, someone who doesn’t try to change him, whether it’s his laziness or his smoking

• Shikamaru can be pessimistic and snarky sometimes, so he’d do well with someone who has a thick skin

• They need to get along with Choji. Calling him fat is NO NO bros before hoes

Relationship With Shikamaru Stuff~

• Alright, alright we all know the basic stuff. He’s going to nap, watch clouds, and play shogi with you, that’s old news.

• Shika is not clingy and doesn’t crave constant physical affection in the way that he won’t for the most part look at you like ‘I just wanna hold her’

• He’s (obviously) very perceptive, however, and if he knows you want to cuddle or something he will usually indulge you (with some complaints of course)

• If you don’t mind smoking once in a while, great! If not, he’s very considerate and won’t do it when you’re around

• Shika is not really the ‘let’s go out on a date’ type, he’s more lowkey and prefers to just spend time with you in private

• Surprisingly, he’s a big fan of pillow talks, so, please indulge him

• He enjoys journaling, it’s a way for him to process everything he took in during the day it’s hard being a super genius and he would love if you did that together

• Sometimes, when he’s in a good mood he’ll do little things that he thinks are childish, but how could he say no when you’re so cute?? He ends up loving pillow forts

• Massages will be a big thing between you, he’s often stressed and that really helps him, but he always feels obligated to return the favor

• He’s really like an adorable pessimistic teddybear

• Sometimes he finds the need to rant about whatever and if you’re willing to listen, you’ll have his heart. On the flip side, he’s a great listener, even if he doesn’t have much to say, you know he cares

• Oh, he’ll remember your anniversaries/birthdays, etc, but don’t expect him to make a big deal. At most, he’ll get you a small gift and pay extra attention to you

• Definitely the kinda guy to avoid you on your period, not because he thinks it’s gross or anything, he just doesn’t have the energy to deal with mood swings. He will, however, grab supplies so he can help without being within your range of emotions

• Not that competitive, and if it’s anything other than Shogi he might just let you win cause he doesn’t care that much

How To Lose/Annoy Him~

• I’m 100% sure trying to make him do things is a given, but I’ll say it louder for the people on the back :)

• If you are constantly pestering him and interrupting his peace, he will quickly get fed up

• Please do NOT play hard to get or make him jealous. He’ll immediately know what you’re doing, but things like that just make him frustrated

• He hates mixed signals and dropped hints, so if you have something to say, just say it

• If you try to change him and constantly nag at him to be more productive, he will quickly lose interest

• Talking just for the sake of talking, and not having anything real to say will grate on his already thin patience

• As crazy as this may sound, there is a limit to how much lazy Shika can take. Even if he complains, he always completes his duties to the best of his abilities. If his partner can’t even do that much, he will lose respect for them

• The opinion of people he’s close to is a big deal. If his teammates, Asuma, or his family genuinely think something’s off about you, he will proceed with caution and probably be more scrutinizing of you

• He really has a short temper so be mindful of that, try to refrain from bothersome pranks and annoying him just because

Soft Shika Things~

• Even though he isn’t the softest person you’ll ever meet, he has his moments

• This side of him usually comes during naps/cloud watching

• He doesn’t mind cuddling up with you at these moments and he might even ask for it

• Shikamaru is a believer in the little things, so if he sees you’re insecure he might drop little compliments here and there.

• He’d die if you ever told anyone, but sometimes if he has nothing better to do, he’ll paint your nails, especially if they’re beginning to crack. He loves to experiment and see how different colors go with your skin tone

• The first time he saw you wearing something of his, he had no idea what to think like didn’t you have clothes?? He quickly got past that and actually enjoyed seeing you in his clothes. Not in a sexual way, but like ‘wow she’s really my girl??’

• He actually wouldn’t mind getting a matching couple thing if you were into it. Nothing like a shirt or an outfit, but probably something like a matching stud earring or lighters

• If you ask and no one’s around he might take his hair down around you, but he isn’t really fond of it being touched but what’s the point of having great hair if it can’t be played with??

• Has the worst spring allergies and is SUCH a BABY please take care of him, he needs it

Random Shikamaru Facts~

• Shika has an almost perfect photographic memory, and it can be overwhelming to remember everything so he started doing nothing to reduce the stimulus to his mind, but actually started to reallyyy enjoy being lazy

• He’s actually an insomniac because he feels like his mind never stops and he loses a lot of sleep

• His love language is acts of service all the way

• Shikamaru definitely ends up with a tattoo at some point in his life, it’s something small but significant

• This boy is loyal to a fault, whether you’re his S/O or his friend, he has your back forever

• If he’s close to you he has so much trust in you like he won’t really think about you hurting him, so if you were too he’d be deeply hurt

• He hates the rain or any kind of weather that keeps him inside

• He has spring allergies, but he refuses to acknowledge them so he’ll pop an allergy pill and that’s that

• He sucks at taking care of himself when he’s super busy please help him

• He’s not at all religious, he doesn’t believe in fate, destiny, or karma. He’s really the classic man of science stereotype

• He has traditional views on male/female relationships, but if he meets the right woman who challenges him, that could easily be rearranged ahem Temari

Little Things~

Favorite:

• Place to kiss- Your lips; he’s a simple man really, he’d much rather kiss your lips than anywhere else

• Way to hug- Not a huge hugger, but he likes one-armed hugs where he holds you close to his side for the most part

• Things to do with you- He loves to have deep conversations with you

• Cuddle Positions- He likes when you’re sitting up and he can lay his head on your chest or in the crook of your neck

• Type of date- Outdoors, usually just lazing around under the sun, or if you’ve been apart for a while, he’ll treat you to BBQ

This or That:

• He loves fall, the beautiful changing colors, and the calm atmosphere

• He’s an afternoon person (Idk if that’s a thing) he likes to be productive in the middle of the day, the morning and the night are his personal time

• He can’t cook anything past basic, he never thought he’d need to

• He likes to read strictly nonfiction but might be persuaded to try lighter reading per his S/O’s request

Conflict Happenings~

• Will avoid it at all costs, so if he has to avoid you, so be it

• Thinks it’s a waste of energy to argue when you could be discussing

• It’s pointless anyway. Unless you have a flawless, foolproof argument, he will find a hole and your argument will fall apart

• He hates beating around the bush and would expect his S/O to be more mature than that; so if you have a problem or if he upset you, he wants you to just say it

• He will make subtle efforts to appease you if you’re mad at him. He might be open to cuddling and might take you for a real date

• He doesn’t care to hold grudges so once you apologize and it’s sincere, whatever happened is out of sight out of mind

• On the flip side, he doesn’t appreciate people bringing up past mistakes as leverage if he’s apologized and already paid the penalty

• Yelling doesn’t phase him, he’ll wait until you’re rational and calm before discussing the problem with him

• He doesn’t have a short temper, but certain things make him go from 0-100 real quick

• Once something petty starts, he won’t physically leave, but he will probably mentally tap out

• Would 120% prefer for the two of you to be at peace so if it’s something small he is apt to concede just so things can go back to normal

Modern Shika~

• The quiet genius, because he doesn’t want to have tutor someone or have things expected of him

• Is that one guy you never really like at but once you do you’re like ‘was he always that cute??’

• He is not really invested in appearances, he’ll probably wear jeans and turtle necks or sweatshirts. Somehow he always looks good even though he hardly tries??

• Probably switches from smoking to vaping, assuming he ever used cigarettes in the first place

• He has a car, but most people would never know cause he’s always walking places

• Has popular friends, but doesn’t care to be the center of attention in the slightest

• The one person to probably be ahead in school work

• He always comes up with the most clever ways to cheat but he’s so smart he never needs them

• For studying, he’ll glance over the material no more than a week in advance and be done all hail photographic memory

• He’s down for a good party every once in a blue moon, if he knows the people there

• Would probably be offered money to write essays, but he’s too lazy to do it

• Perfectly okay with being a teacher’s pet (sometimes) if it means he gets special privileges

• CEO of sauntering in the door the second the bell rings

• Never really had the rebellious stage, he doesn’t care that much for showing out but he does like to be out of the house as much as possible

• I can see him with a mid-low maintenance pet like a cat or a gerbil

• He’s that one naturally aloof guy that has this aura that gets him all the girls??

• He doesn’t date around, but I could see him with a no strings attached friends with benefits

• Shika isn’t overly fond of decoration or extra things no matter where he’s living so his living space is mostly clean due to lack of things to make a mess with

• He probably would only have a roommate if finance was an issue and even then he’d probably be a little salty over it

• He’s an extroverted introvert (stay with me) he doesn’t mind socializing, but he needs time to himself to prepare and wind down

• He would definitely have minimal social media, probably only a phone number and maybe Instagram, though he’d rarely post

• At the end of the day, I belong to this sexy genius XD

Masterlist

#shikamaru x reader #shikamaru #headcanon #requested #naruto scenarios #naruto shippuden #property of the nara clan #naruto #shika

189 notes · View notes

wingsofkpop · 4 years

Text

Hiraeth - I.VI: The Forgotten One

pairing(s): Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre: Supernatural!AU, Dark Magic!AU, HEAVY Angst, some Fluff, eventual Smut

warnings: Mature language, mentions of death and murder, brief violence, blood and gore, character death by suicide, mentions of depression and mental illness, hallucinations and trauma, brief mentions of child abuse and slavery, etc.

Trigger Warning: This chapter does contain graphic and explicit depictions of suicide. Please do not read if this will harm you. This is your final warning.

word count: 7,6k

synopsis: How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?…

chapter directory

A/N: This is a dark and heavy chapter.Please make sure to look carefully and closely at the warnings. Your safety and wellbeing should be your first priority. Do not read if you know it will cause you harm. Be safe and enjoy.

“I can’t believe he just left like that, that asshole!” Jinyoung holds back a chuckle at your bitter retort, unable to focus on anything aside from the furious expression along your features. He knows he shouldn’t find your anger cute, but there’s something about the way your nose scrunches inward and how your lips purse that has him melting. More so than the fever.

“I mean, what kind of self-absorbed, arrogant, heartless prick leaves his best friend to suffer…?”

“Jaebeom has never been the most compassionate person on the planet.” Jinyoung hums in response, tilting his head as to better give you access to towel away the sweat gathering across his forehead. “Even when we were children, it was hard for him to see through someone else’s eyes. But that is likely the cause of his upbringings.”

You shake your head indignantly. “We’ve all had sucky childhoods. That doesn’t excuse this petty, cruel bullshit.”

For a short moment, Jinyoung studies the forefronts of your face. This is the first time you have ever brought up mention of your childhood, and he couldn’t help but notice the rather sour tone of your voice. And while he can easily pass that off as anger toward his hybrid brother, Jinyoung wonders whether there’s more beneath the surface…

Who really are you…?

“Did Jaebeom tell you anything about his past during your time together?”

You shrug. “Yeah, I guess? He told me about your family, and your father—”

“What about his family?” Jinyoung notices how your body pauses, the cold cloth on his forehead freezing in place. He gives you a second to fix your composure, before leaning back into the comfort of his mattress and continuing, “Jaebeom’s parents were both killed by pillagers when he was very young, leaving him orphaned and one of the only remaining survivors in his village.

“He was taken into slavery, and traded off from one person to the next.” He explains, taking a second to cough and clear the thick bile building in his throat. “For the majority of his childhood, Jaebeom was beaten, abused, starved, maltreated and left to die more times than anyone could count. If I hadn’t found him, incapacitated and nearly dead in the forest, he would never have survived past fourteen.”

Guilt washes along your face, transmitting into your body language through the shakiness of your hands and tension in your shoulders. Jinyoung keeps his eyes trained as you dab his cheek, ignoring how the cloth does little to relieve yet another increase in his body temperature.

You murmur with a deep frown, “I… didn’t know.”

“Few do. Jaebeom doesn’t like to look back on his past.”

“But that still doesn’t make sense to me.” The hand with the cloth falls to your lap as you take the time to think. Jinyoung waits patiently, resting comfortably against his pillows. “If you two are so close… why let you go on sick rather than heal you?”

“Jaebeom and I have spent many lifetimes together, (Y/N).” He says, “Like most companions, we’ve had our fair share of falling-outs and feuds… This time was no different.”

“So he’s essentially punishing you? For not listening to him?”

Jinyoung sighs. “I know it’s difficult to believe, but Jaebeom does have a good heart.”

You scoff. “Yeah. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“He spared you, didn’t he?”

“He told you…?” Your eyes widen in surprise, and Jinyoung can’t help but smile at how much you resemble a gentle doe.

“Not exactly…” With some needed effort, he moves his arm to your lap where your free hand rests on your thigh. He mindlessly runs the tip of his finger over the bump of your knuckles, marveling at how cool your skin feels against his own. “My brother and I got into an argument the day before you came to the cemetery, so I had a suspicion he would try and retaliate against me… When I saw you were here, with him, I knew my suspicions were somewhat correct.”

Jinyoung raises his gaze to meet your eyes. “Time is not a friend when it involves creatures like me and Jaebeom, (Y/N). We may live forever, but we also suffer and endure the same pain forever.”

“There’s really no way for you to die?”

“No. If there was, then I would have ended my life a long, long time ago.”

Jinyoung notices how your eyes seem to sadden at his answer. But he doesn’t inquire any further, enduring another coughing fit that rattles his bones from the inside out. A small barrage of blood leaves his lips to splatter across the white sheets, which you’re quick to wipe away before offering if you can do anything else.

He shakes his head. “The symptoms will pass eventually, but you need to leave. I will start to hallucinate soon and I don’t want to put you in danger.”

“I’m not just gonna leave you here by yourself.” You argue, adamantly shaking your own head back and forth. “You’re stuck with me until your ass gets better.”

For the first time, Jinyoung actually curses your stubborn nature. He releases a groan, partly out of pain and partly out of frustration, before forcing himself to sit up against all your warning protests. Once he’s in a less than comfortable position, Jinyoung reaches for your shoulder and pulls you even closer toward his bedside.

“Mark is missing, and Youngjae needs a friend right now.” Your steadfast expression falters at Jinyoung’s words.

You sigh heavily. “I just… don’t want you to be alone.”

Jinyoung’s heart seizes at your confession, but he forces his expression to remain neutral. For your favor, and for his.

“I’ve endured this fever dozens of times on my own. This time will be no different.” He reaches up to brush a fallen eyelash from your cheek, relishing the starry night that shimmers in your eyes. “Go, please. Unlike me, your friends are not immortal.”

You remain troubled for a moment, weighing the options over while nervously gnawing at your bottom lip. Before he can think about his actions, Jinyoung hooks his thumb over your lip and frees the flesh from the wrath of your teeth. Surprise flashes in your eyes, but it is quickly replaced with defeat.

You surrender with a nod, “Fine. But I’m only going because I’m worried about Mark… not because you told me to.”

“Of course.” Jinyoung smiles as you retract from his touch, captivated by the way you flail about the room, preparing him a sick care package and gathering your own belongings. After you’re satisfied, you return to his bedside, and to Jinyoung’s surprise, lean down to splay your lips across his burning cheek. When you pull back, you refuse to meet his gaze.

“That’s for saving my life… And everything else.”

Long after you’ve exited the room, Jinyoung can still feel the lingering ghost of your lips against his skin.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Raindrops cascade gracefully from the silver storm clouds above, creating a soft curtain of mist everywhere you look. The chill of the rain shower actually motivates your pace to pick up. That, and the apprehension of leaving Jinyoung alone in such a weak, vulnerable state. Though your inclination to find Mark keeps you from turning on your heel and hailing a cab all the way back to the Project Estate… yet another good chunk of money out of your wallet.

At this point, you might as well as invest in a car.

The sigh that falls from your lips disappears into the falling rain as you slip past the entrance gate of Eclipse Cemetery. Before you found out about Mark’s witch nature, you never understood why he and his friends ever chose to hang out in a graveyard—a place where you can’t walk without stepping over the resting place of a corpse. You always figured Mark was edgy like that… and just strange, in general.

Your boots sink into the earth with each step, thick mud staining the leather soles. You can’t bring yourself to really care though, too focused on reaching the mausoleum before the storm soaks you to the bone. However, just when the familiar building is mere feet away, a rather small gathering of people come into view. You recognize Youngjae’s dark head amongst the crowd and beeline straight for the group.

Youngjae notices your approaching figure and turns to greet you. Even through the fog, you can tell the younger male has been crying from his swollen cheeks and crimson-tinted eyes. As soon as you’re in reach, you wrap your arms around his waist and pull him into a tight hug.

He reciprocates with a murmur. “I didn’t think you’d come… not after what happened—”

“None of that matters right now.” You assure, running a hand through Youngjae’s rain-soaked locks. “We’re gonna find him, okay? He’ll be home before you know it.”

“I hope so.”

After another moment or so, Youngjae pulls back from your hold. His hand remains on your bicep as he invites you into the sea of faces, where the surrounding strangers had watched your display with the young siphoner. You clear your throat, willing away the slight embarrassment brewing inside your gut.

“(Y/N)-noona, these are members of Moon Dye Bay’s resident werewolf pack.” Youngjae points to a shorter, but rather broad and muscular male with bleached, blonde hair, “This is Bang Chan, the Alpha and leader of the wolves.”

Chan’s smile is kind. “Hi. I wish we could have met during better circumstances.”

“Same here.” You reply, offering a small smile of your own.

“Kim Yugyeom is Chan’s second-in-command. You might have heard his name from—”

“Bambam.” You finish Youngjae’s sentence with a nod, noting Yugyeom’s extremely tall stature. And to think you thought that Bambam had long-ass legs… “It’s nice to finally know the face of the best friend he mentions all the time.”

Unlike Chan, Yugyeom doesn’t smile. But you can tell it’s not out of impoliteness or prejudice. The dark bags underneath his eyes and the tense lines of his cheeks disclose the severity of his exhaustion.

“The feeling is mutual.” Yugyeom hums, “Bam talks about you a lot too.”

“All good things, I hope.”

“More or less.” You make a note to smack the cashier the next time you see him as Yugyeom gestures to a young woman at his side with navy blue hair and a pretty smile, “This is my sister, Dahyun.”

“It’s so good to finally meet you.” Dahyun steps forward to take your hands between her own, “A couple of my friends are in Professor Park’s literature and history classes. They rant and rave about the aide that might as well be their professor.”

You chuckle shyly, “I’m getting there. Working on my doctorate right now.”

“Good for you.” Dahyun squeezes your hands before letting go and returning next to her brother. Through the corner of your eye, you notice another figure lingering beside a grand oak tree—obviously steering clear of the circle. His expression is cold, almost as if he had never smiled in his entire life.

“Don’t mind Changbin.” Chan blocks your view of the lone male with a sigh, “He’s in a mood, and has never been the greatest at greeting new people.”

You wave off his concern, instead focusing your gaze on an oddly silent Youngjae. Your heart practically breaks at the pure sadness and helplessness that contorts his features, but before you can open your mouth to console the siphoner, Yugyeom beats you to it:

“Is there any way we can find Mark without ripping apart the entire goddamn town? Some spell or enchantment or…?”

Youngjae shakes his head. “I already tried a tracking spell. He’s cloaked, meaning we won’t be able to detect him with magic.”

“What about the witch?” Dahyun says, “I mean—she had to have taken him while we were dealing with the huntress, right? There’s no other explanation why he would just up and disappear—”

“Wait—” You stare incredulously at the conversing wolves and witch, “Mina took Mark? Why would she do that?”

Yugyeom shrugs. “We killed her partner. Seems like a pretty decent way to get revenge.”

“She won’t… hurt him? Will she?”

Silence is your only answer, and it unleashes an electric wave of panic through your veins. You swallow down the gathering bile in the back of your throat before getting a grip on your sanity and turning back to the group:

“My friend is close with her.” You gulp, already pulling your phone from your pocket. “I’ll call and see if she knows any place she might have gone.”

“Good idea.” Chan nods and turns to the other wolves, “While (Y/N) does that, we should start forming search parties to check the town. Dahyun, you call Chaeyoung and Ryujin and have them start at the square—”

“Why do we even fucking bother?” Everyone startles at the sudden, gruff question. It takes you a second to realize the voice belonged to the lone wolf, Changbin, who is now rounding in on the small circle with a violent sneer. You can’t help but shiver beneath the intensity of his expression.

Dahyun rolls her eyes. “Who invited this asshole to come, again?”

“Dubu, please.” Yugyeom sends his sister a pointed look before meeting Changbin’s gaze. You marvel at how calm the tall wolf seems, as if he’s dealt with this type of thing a good number of times beforehand.

His tone resembles that of a parent speaking a serious subject to their child. “We’ve already talked about this… Mark—”

“—is the fucking reason why Jackon is dead?” Changbin chuckles darkly, the soaking wet hood over his head intensifying his intimidating aura. “No matter how many times I try to tell you that, hyung—you just don’t seem to get it…”

“Mark didn’t kill Jackson!” Dahyun argues, shoving past Yugyeom to approach the furious wolf. Although she’s significantly shorter than him, Dahyun doesn’t hesitate to lean in close to Changbin’s face until they’re nose-to-nose and send him a harsh glare of her own. “When will you get that through that moronic brain of yours!?”

“And when will you realize that whatever this puppy crush, love sick shit you have on him is never gonna happen—”

“Enough!” Chan’s bellow ricochets through your bones. The Alpha shoves the two wolves away from one another before stepping in between their bodies, making sure there is no possible way for them to reach one another without going through him. He glances between the pair with a stern glare, “You two need to calm down. Changbin, take a hike.”

“But, hyung—!”

“That’s an order. Go.”

You barely manage to duck out of his path before Changbin barrels past, likely heading toward the gates of the cemetery. His silhouette eventually becomes one with the raindrops, almost as if he was never here to begin with…

“(Y/N)-noona…?” Reality hits at Youngjae’s soft call of your name. You turn back to the other figures, finding each set of eyes looking in your direction. With your attention, Youngjae continues, “You want to make that call…?”

“Oh. Yeah.” You nod, remembering the phone between your fingers. “I’ll let you know if Sana tells me anything.”

Without waiting for a hum of agreement, you turn on your heel and make your way deeper into the cemetery. You don’t know why you have this sudden need to get as far away from the group as possible, but something in your gut doesn’t sit well with what Changbin had said.

Who is Jackson…?

The name isn’t familiar, nor do you recall Mark ever mentioning a ‘Jackson’. But judging by the tone of both Changbin and Dahyun’s voices, this Jackson is, or was important to them—important to Mark. So why have you never heard about him…? From anyone…?

And why did Changbin say Mark is the reason why Jackson died…?

You don’t realize how far you have traveled until you reach the tall iron fence highlighting where the burial grounds cease. Youngjae and the werewolf pack are long behind you, and you can’t tell whether the relief that spills through your body is a good thing or a bad thing. After wiping the droplets from the screen of your phone, you prepare to do as tasked and phone Sana for whereabouts on Mina. But just as you are about to hit the call button, something else catches your attention.

A jet black, one-winged butterfly glides through the falling rain like a tiny plane. It flutters only mere inches from your nose, playfully beckoning you with its single, rigged appendage before traversing past the graveyard fence toward the ominous forest. You watch, transfixed, as it pauses just in the mouth of the wood… as if waiting for you to follow.

Against your better judgement, you tuck your phone into your pocket and walk closer to the barrier. You somehow manage to scale the slippery fence without fault before sprinting after the deformed butterfly, which flew into the trees as soon as your feet hit the ground outside the cemetery.

The rain is lighter underneath the cover of thick leaves and branches, but it is also much, much darker. It is especially difficult to spot the black insect amongst the gloom, but as if under a spell, you manage to do so. You’re not exactly sure how long you trailed the butterfly, nor do you have any idea where you are, but you can’t seem to care—not when a large, obscure cave comes into sight.

You pause, watching the butterfly drift toward the mysterious cavern, telling you this is where you’re supposed to be.

Way past the point of no return, you enter the pitch black of the cave. Your own steps and the pitter-patter of the rain echo in your ears as you tread deeper into the obscurity, shuffling your feet as to avoid tripping over any awaiting obstacle. You eventually decide to pull out your phone, cursing yourself for not doing so in the first place, and switch on the flashlight setting.

A loud yelp sounds from your throat when your beam of light reveals something that strikes both fear and relief in your heart. Not something… but someone.

Mark lays in a heap on the dry cavern floor. If it were anywhere else, he would seem as if he were sleeping soundly… but he’s in a dark cave. Unconscious and alone.

“Mark!…” You rush to kneel at his side, checking over his body for any possible injuries. You find none, so you attempt to shake him awake, “Mark! Get up!”

Mark doesn’t even stir at your touch.

“Freaking hell, Mark…” You shake your head with a heavy sigh, preparing to grab your phone and call Youngjae, but when you turn to the spot where you left it on the ground, the device is nowhere to be seen. Chills race through your bloodstream like a wave of ice.

“What… the fuck?…”

“I believe you’re looking for this…?” You immediately whirl around at the sudden voice, protectively standing in front of Mark’s incapacitated figure. More panic and dread fill your gut at the sight of a silhouette standing in the mouth of the cave, with what seems to be your phone within their hand.

Trying to mask your fear, you call to the figure with a growl, “Who the fuck are you!? Don’t come any closer!…”

“It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you.” The more the stranger speaks, the more you swear you can recognize their voice. You keep on your toes as they approach closer and closer, until there’s only a couple feet separating your forms. It’s not until a light appears, right in the palm of the figure’s hand, do you finally match the voice to a face.

Mina smiles softly. “I’ve been waiting for you, (Y/N).”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

He’s running. With no destination in mind. Lungs screaming for oxygen. But he can’t stop. No matter how the rocks and branches tear at his skin. Have to get away. Warm blood spills down his arms and feet. Have to get away before he finds him. Violet and crimson bruises stain his flesh like acid. Have to get away before he finds him and finishes the job. Running deeper and deeper into the black.

Fat droplets spill down his cheeks in scarlet trails. Of terror. Of pain. More tears blur his vision. Colors of all shades meld into one single glow. Every wildflower is grey. Every leaf is grey. Even his blood is grey. He cannot tell which one of four hands is his own. Fingers outstretched. Searching for answers. Searching for comfort.

What has he done to deserve this misery? What merciless deity has subjected him to such violent torment? What has he done to deserve each slap, each broken bone, each lick against his skin? What kind of unkind universe allows a young boy to suffer at the hands of his own father?

His ankle catches in the dip of a rabbit hole. More agony erupts through his veins. Body meeting the hard earth with a pound. It hurts. It HURTS. Sobs are long past uncontrolled now. Maybe he can cry himself an ocean. And drown in the currents of his own tears. His ankle throbs. There would be no more pain. No more suffering then.

A sharp rock would do the job. One stab to the throat and he’s out like a light. It would be so easy. So easy. The stone sears his palm like a handful of ice. Its surface even colder against his neck. His father can’t punish him in death. Can’t find him when he’s gone. He would be safe. Dead. And safe. He presses the point deeper into his skin.

Who would miss him? His mother? His sisters? The villagers of his town? Do they know he’s gone past the territory border? Do they know he’s suffered the wrath of a thousand suns? Do they even care? Will they mourn him? Acknowledge him?… Celebrate his absence?

Echoes of a shrill groan bounce through the trees. His grasp loosens. Blood pools into his collarbones as the rock tumbles back to the earth. Trembling legs bear his weight. Ankle still throbbing. He takes a step forward. Then another. Then another. His hands shake like a helpless rose in a violent windstorm.

There’s someone else in the woods. It’s another boy. Strewn among a bed of dead leaves. Laid within a puddle of his own blood and sweat. Mud clings to every available patch of skin. Like a shadow of nature. Thick pus oozes from his thorn-bounded wrists. He can’t see his face. But he knows the scent of pain.

“Help me, please.” He can’t tell if the voice is the boy’s or his own. Or maybe he’s finally lost his mind. Overthrown by the claws of insanity. Maybe death will come for him now. Bruised. Cracked. Broken. Like a piece of useless trash no one desires. Take him. End his pain now.

“Jinyoung…” The voice is clearer now. Adamant. Death has come. Sweet and merciful. Arms up toward the heavens. Fingers outstretched. Searching for comfort. Searching for relief. Something warm cradles his hand. Tears and blood mix along the canvas of his body. Another call of his name. Distorted. But real. Loving.

“You need to drink this…” Something cold presses against his lips. A sigh escapes. Death really has been his true friend all along. Sweet liquid invades his taste buds. Swallows the thickness like a greedy child. Thank you. Thank you so much.

When Jinyoung opens his eyes, the blurred forest is gone, as is the pain. He searches the dark room for the bearer of his fate, wanting to verbally express his appreciation and pledge his loyalty. However, the face that appears in his vision is neither spiritual nor resemblance of the grim reaper—it is the wounded boy from the forest. Now a man.

“I’m here, brother…” His murmur is faint against Jinyoung’s ears. Soft. His eyelids begin to droop, the same darkness, yet more tame and kind, overtaking the forefront of his mind. He can’t fight it off. Not this time.

The voice continues to lull him, calm him, as Jinyoung slips back into a dreamless sleep.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“If you’re gonna kill me, then just get it over with.” You hiss, keeping alert as Mina proceeds to pace around the wide, dim cavern. Never before have you felt such anger, such hatred toward another human being, except at this very moment. “Stop playing around like this is some fucking game. I want nothing to do with it.”

“I’m not going to kill you, (Y/N). That’s the last thing I want to do.”

“Yeah? Is that the same thing you told Nayeon before you murdered her?”

Mina’s sigh is neither one of frustration or annoyance. In fact, if you knew any better, you would have thought the sound to be something close to exhaustion.

Your shoulder tense as the witch approaches, maneuvering yourself to shield Mark who lays behind you. Still asleep. Noticing your protective stance, Mina backs off with another sigh and runs a trembling hand across her sweaty forehead.

She murmurs softly, “We weren’t always killers, you know? Momo and I—we used to be innocent… and good.”

For a moment, you merely gape at the witch, unable to conjure up a proper response. Mina ignores your silence, either uncaring or unknowing, and takes a seat across from your frozen form. Still a good amount of distance away. Her eyes glance toward Mark’s unconscious body before turning back to you with a blank expression.

“He’s alright. I put him under a sleeping spell.”

“I don’t understand why you’re doing this?” Your strict, yet inquisitive tone pulls a grimace across her face.

“I knew if I took Mark, I would be able to get you alone… to talk.”

“Why?”

Mina doesn’t answer your question and proceeds to stare off into space. “You know, I was in the foster system for years, always dreaming about the day I would finally quit bouncing from one home to the next.

“I was fourteen when I was adopted, and also when I met Momo.” The weak smile that forms across her lips stirs something inside your gut. “I had always wanted a sister, loving parents, and a home to call my own, which I finally had… It was the best feeling in the world.” She pauses to release a breathy chuckle, “It’s funny—what I would give to go back in time and feel like that again…”

You bite your lip. “What… What happened to them?”

“Our parents were killed by our town’s witch coven in a ritual gone wrong.” Mina whispers, tilting her head and fluttering her eyes closed. A single teardrop escapes her lid, dripping sadness down her flushed cheek. “It was an accident, but the damage had already been done…

“Once Momo found out about her hunter-roots, she became different—vengeful. She slaughtered those witches without so much as batting an eyelash, but it wasn’t enough. She needed to kill again and again and again. ”

“Why didn’t you stop her?”

“Because I couldn’t.” She shakes her head, another droplet trailing down her skin. “After our parents died, she was just so—so heartbroken. I could barely get her out of bed in the mornings, much less make her eat or go out or anything…” You watch sullenly as Mina wipes her eyes before shrugging, “It was like her soul died with them, and the sister I knew and loved was a shell of who she once was.”

You release a sigh of your own. “Until she killed those witches.”

“I convinced myself that it was fair—their lives for our parents. And every other life she—we took, I tried to make up some sort of excuse that it was justified…

“But it became too much.” She says, “After Nayeon, I knew I couldn’t handle anymore death. Not even for Momo.”

Your eyes widen when you realize the shadows along her face are not shadows at all, but her veins gradually appearing in the forms of inky, spider-webbed lines. When she lifts her gaze back to your own, her pupils are dilated to slits and rimmed with jet black irises.

“I knew Momo could never stop killing, so I used every bit of my magic to strip her of her strength long enough to allow the wolf pack to do what should have been done a long, long time ago.”

“Your face… It’s—”

“Dark magic is a funny thing, (Y/N).” Mina laughs sarcastically, tracing the black veins along the back of her hand with the tip of her finger. “The power itself feels so good, like a high that never comes down, but like every drug, you don’t realize it’s killing you until it’s too late.”

Holding back tears, you shake your head. “Why are you telling me all of this?”

“Because you deserve to know what this world does to you.” Mina answers, crawling closer to reach for your hands. You don’t flinch at her abnormally cold touch, nor do you make any fight to pull away.

The witch stares directly into your eyes. “Knowing about the supernatural comes with a price. Your values, your morals—everything you know will be tested at every possible moment, and piece by piece, your soul will chip away to nothing.

“I could sense your humanity the very first time we met.” With a black-lined finger, Mina caresses a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen until then. “You’re different from other mortals… If you go down this path of darkness, then it will destroy you, (Y/N).”

“I don’t understand…” You sob, attempting to cling to Mina’s hands as she begins to pull away.

“You will. One day.” With given effort, she eventually peels herself away from your grasp and retires back to her lonely place in the shadows. She retracts something from the pocket of her jeans, but you can’t make out much through the darkness. Only the gleam of something sharp. Mina offers a weak smile— her lips as black as night.

“I hope you live a long, happy life, (Y/N). Without any of this.”

You watch in horror as the witch lifts a small pocket-knife right beneath her jaw and slices across her throat. Dark blood immediately spurts from the wound and paints her skin and the cavern floor red. Mina’s eyes keep to yours as she garbles and chokes, before the irises themselves grow white and her figure collapses to the ground. She squirms and spasms for a moment or two, then falls uncomfortably silent. Completely still.

Nausea bubbles in your stomach like a tidal wave, and you have to force yourself to look away from the vulgar scene before you vomit. Even then, the sight of the knife dragging across her windpipe and her strangled noises remain at the base of your thoughts. You’re sobbing uncontrollably, you quickly realize, gasping for air and shaking like a madwoman.

“(Y/N)?…”

The husky call awakens you from the beginnings of the anxiety attack. When you peer down, Mark’s eyes are hooded and bleary, but open and alert. He forces himself upright with a pained groan, rubbing at his likely sore shoulders before glancing around the cavern with visible confusions strewn along his features. His gaze immediately stops at the sight behind you, the confusion ebbing to terror, then sympathy.

Mark’s expression is absolutely heartbroken as he returns his focus back to you. “Oh my—(Y/N), I’m so, so sorry…” You practically throw yourself into his awaiting arms with a loud wail, curling into his body like a small child. He holds you tightly, his embrace warm and safe, while murmuring soft assurances into your ear.

“She just—just k-killed herself!.. I couldn’t-couldn’t do any-anything—!”

“Shhh…” Mark cradles the back of your head in his palm, caressing light circles into your scalp with his thumb. “Just don’t think about that right now, okay? Focus on something else—keep talking to me.”

You sharply breathe through your nose, inhaling the various elements of Mark’s scent. Rainwater. Earthiness. His sweet cologne. A gentle hint of lingering bourbon. As you count, the panic in your chest begins to die down… but the trepidation remains.

Your tone is soft, calm when you finally speak again. “Who’s Jackson…?”

Mark’s body deeply tenses underneath your own, his hand freezing its movements upon your head. He pushes you backward to peer at your face, wide-eyed and somewhat frenzied, before humming darkly, “Where did you hear that name?”

“I met the wolf pack earlier and Changbin mentioned a Jackson.” You shake your head, “I’m sorry, I just never remembered you mentioning him and you told me to talk, so I just figured—”

“Hey…” Mark silences your rant with a finger to your lips. “Don’t apologize, okay? Jackson was… my best friend.”

“Was?”

Your companion hesitates. You can see the cogs violently turning in his brain, but before you can tell him to just abandon the subject entirely, he answers:

“He died almost four years ago.”

“Oh, Mark…” You don’t waste a second to wind your arms back around his shoulders, pulling his head tight against your chest. His form trembles beneath your touch, but like a starved man, Mark greedily surrenders to your embrace.

As you’re comforting your best friend, another dreadful thought enters your mind—almost as bad as the repetitive memory of the scenes that occurred just moments before: Mina is dead, and so is Momo.

What will you tell Sana…?

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“I don’t know what we could ever do to repay you guys.” Mark shakes his head, glancing between the circle of wolves with an incredulous expression. Behind him, Youngjae and Jisung both nod in agreement while Lia offers a grateful smile. Chan responds with a grin of his own before moving forward to place a careful hand on Mark’s shoulder.

The Alpha hums, “We protect our own. No payback required.”

“Plus the huntress didn’t even put up a fun fight.” Dahyun snickers, joining Chan in wrapping a tight arm around Mark’s waist. He pats her head as she nuzzles into his chest, releasing an amused chuckle into the torn fabric of his shirt. “Good thing we weren’t in our wolf forms, or we would have literally ripped her to shreds!”

“Dahyun, please.” Yugyeom rolls his eyes, earning another laugh from his sister. The she wolf leans upward to press a kiss to Mark’s cheek and whisper a farewell before exiting the mausoleum to join the other waiting members of the pack outside. Chan follows Dahyun soon afterward, leaving only Yugyeom alone with the witch coven.

Mark sends the wolf a soft glance. “I owe you my life, Gyeom. Thank you.”

“Like Chan said, hyung, we protect our own.” Yugyeom waves off his thanks, though Mark can visibly see the younger male attempting to hold back a smile. “Whether you like it or not, you’ll always have a place with us. Jackson-hyung made sure of that.”

At the mention of his passed friend, Mark is reminded of his conversation with you inside the cavern. For some reason, the mere mention of the name does not strike the usual despair it has in the past. It actually feels good to hear it, he realizes. Maybe he should try saying it himself more often.

“Don’t be a stranger, okay? We still play beer pong every Friday at the cabin.”

“I was always pretty good at bp.” Mark chuckles at the memory, “You and Bam are always the first ones to get shit-faced though.”

“It’s not my fault Bam literally has no skill.”

The head witch tilts his head. “Kind of is… You do pick him as your teammate every game.”

“Not the point.” Yugyeom sends Mark a playful glare while shrugging on his brown leather jacket. Mark follows the youngster to the door, pausing when he directs his goodbyes to the other members of the coven. Once he’s finished, Yugyeom meets Mark’s gaze with a silent sigh before pulling the witch into a tight hug.

“I’ve missed you, hyung.”

“Me too, Gyeom.” Mark confesses, breathing in Yugyeom’s familiar woodsy scent. The fragrance brings back even more pleasant memories that act to warm his heart. He gives the wolf one final squeeze before pushing him away with some reluctance and gestures toward the door. “Better go before Dubu lands herself in a fist fight with Changbin.”

“Don’t even get me started on those two.” Laughing at the expression of pure annoyance across his face, Mark watches as Yugyeom bids him one final farewell and takes off into the pouring rain. In the distance, Mark swears he can hear Dahyun’s headstrong voice telling Chan off for something. The knowledge widens his smile.

But his rush of jubilation is only temporary for Lia’s shrill scold yanks him back to reality:

“—almost got us killed, asshole! What don’t you understand about that!?”

“How was I supposed to fucking know that it was a set-up!?” Minho hisses at the female witch, rising from his perch at the small dining table to enter the disorganized circle of conversation. “You guys made it very clear that my input in everything was useless—”

“Now that’s just bullshit.” Mark interrupts the younger witch, “You were the one who stormed off and have been M.I.A. for the past however many days. The fact that you’re trying to assign blame is fucking stupid.”

Minho scoffs., pointing to Lia. “And what the hell is she doing then!? This is what I mean when I say you take sides—when everyone takes sides! None of you ever take me seriously!”

“How can we when you go out and do stupid shit like this?” Lia growls.

“We’re alive, and the people who killed Nayeon are dead.” Youngjae cuts in, stepping in between the seething pair with a shake of his head. “There’s no reason to fight, okay? We should be celebrating and—”

“I have no desire to celebrate a goddamn thing.”

Mark rolls his eyes as Minho begins to gather his belongings, pushing past Lia with a little more force than what is necessary.

Like Mark, Lia also rolls her eyes. “Gonna run away again and live off the radar for another week or so?”

“Fuck you.”

“Enough!” Mark nearly yells, his mood now at rock bottom. He sends Lia a stern expression, as well as one to a silent Jisung, before pointing toward the door. “It’s been a long day, and we all need some time to process. Go home and sleep on it, alright?”

Lia doesn’t say a word. She only grabs her bag, storms past Mark and Youngjae, and disappears into the storm outside. Close behind, Jisung takes the time to pull on his raincoat and murmur a hushed goodbye, before following in the female witch’s footsteps. Minho goes to leave as well, but before he can make it past the doorway, Mark blocks his path.

The former addresses him in a hiss, “What the fuck now?”

“We need to talk—”

“No, we don’t. Cause I’m done.”

Mark raises an eyebrow, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means I want nothing to do with you fuckers anymore.” Minho seethes with the most piercing glare Mark has ever seen, “Consider me self-exiled.”

Mark has more to say, but Minho literally shoves his way out the door. For a second, Mark debates on whether or not he should run after the witch, and convince him to reconsider his decision. But he decides against it. Minho needs time. And so does Mark.

“She used what is called the Sleeping Beauty spell to put you in a coma.” Mark tears his gaze away from Minho’s retreating silhouette and faces his remaining company. Somewhere in the midst of his confrontation with the younger witches, Youngjae had retreated to the lectern and flipped through an Encyclopedia of Spells.

Mark approaches the siphoner as he continues, “She bound your consciousness to her life force. So only when she died, you could awaken.”

“Makes sense.” The head witch collapses onto the sofa with a loud sigh, “One minute I was watching Jinyoung take a bullet for me, and the next I was in that cave with (Y/N).”

A small moment of silence passes. Mark relishes the peace, propping his suddenly heavy head on the palm of his hand. The quiet, like his positive mood, doesn’t remain as Youngjae eventually breaks it:

“How was she? (Y/N)?”

Mark shrugs. “She was… traumatized. It was a lot for her.”

“But she’ll be okay? Right?” Youngjae joins Mark on the couch, tracing the patterns of the cushions with a worried expression. “You don’t think she’ll… leave Moon Dye?”

“I honestly don’t know, Youngjae.” The head witch offers the siphoner a lost glance, trying to ignore the obnoxious pounding inside his head. An aspirin and a nice, long fifteen hour sleep sounds like a dream in heaven. “I hope not.”

“Me too.”

The silence returns. Mark takes the time to flutter his eyes closed and lean his head back into the sofa. Exhaustion immediately overtakes his mind like a vice, ensnaring his physical body in the need to rest—which is kind of ironic, since he had been in a deep, deep sleep only hours prior.

“Hey, hyung?”

Mark hums, not bothering to open his eyes.

He hears Youngjae inhale a shaky breath before whispering, “I thought… I thought I lost you…”

At the siphoner’s pained tone, Mark immediately opens his eyes and turns to his companion. Youngjae refuses to meet his gaze, finding interest in the loose threads among the couch cushions. Mark doesn’t push him to do so, nor does he really need to. With a heavy heart and an even heavier headache, he merely murmurs to the siphoner:

“You won’t ever lose me, Youngjae… Not if I can help it.”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

You’ve never exactly known what it’s like to live a stable life.

As a child, you were stuck in the foster care system since the day you were basically born, never having met the people who brought you into the world. No one ever told you the identity of your parents, not that you ever wanted to find out. Knowing your own mother left you, a newborn barely a day old, on the doorstep of a local church is enough to warrant your fair share of loathing toward the woman. Intense loathing.

You were never adopted, but once you hit sixteen, you filed for emancipation and set out for a life of your own. For the first couple years, you bounced back and forth between cities, taking up job opportunities as they came and working toward good enough grades in order to eventually qualify for an academic scholarship. You achieved just that, attended a university remote, and graduated with both your bachelors and masters. It wasn’t easy, but you did it. All on your own.

Moon Dye Bay was just supposed to be another temporary fix, then you met Mark that day in Poison Square, and for once you actually looked forward to staying in the mysterious, little town for longer than usual…

That was before you witnessed a woman slit her own throat.

So maybe after you and Mark parted ways in the cemetery, the thought of leaving town crossed your mind. In fact, you were more than ready to pack up your bags and make a beeline for the bus transit. However, the moment you entered your apartment to find Sana sobbing on the kitchen floor… your plans changed. Even more so when she told you that Jihyo had left in a panic after ranting and raving about tattoos and magic.

Jihyo is gone. Momo and Mina are dead. Sana is devastated.

Moon Dye Bay continues to see you for another day.

You inhale the final gulp of your tea before depositing the mug back on your nightstand and slipping underneath your bed covers. Today was the shittiest day you’ve ever experienced, which is saying a lot. All you wish to do is sleep everything away and deal with the emotional baggage tomorrow. Hopefully Mina’s foreboding words won’t follow you into your dreams.

With a sigh of relief, you lean back into the pillows and curl tighter underneath the weight of the blankets. You try to clear your thoughts as much as possible while rolling onto your side. Drowsiness immediately clouds your senses the moment you reach a comfortable position. Preparing to surrender to the darkness that calls, you move to close your eyes, but something catches your attention in the corner of your room.

You peer toward the area, unable to make out much through the thick shadows. Unfortunately, you know your brain won’t rest until you discover the source of movement. It’s probably just a trick of the moon, but just in case, you reach over to your nightstand and switch on the small reading light atop its surface.

It’s not a trick of the moon… because there’s a man standing in the corner of your room, staring straight at you.

Paralyzed with a blend of fear and shock, you’re unable to do anything but stare back at the stranger. His dark eyes widen to saucers after a long moment of silence, and even amongst the shadows, you can tell his expression is one of surprise.

“Can you… Can you see me?” His husky voice proves his bewilderment, but does little to settle yours. Instead, his strange question only sends more warning bells raging throughout your head.

You somehow find your words, but they come out in little above a squeak. “Who the hell are you!?…”

“My name is Jackson… and you’re the first person I’ve talked to in a long, long time…”

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