#hearing *i believe he was holding a /shovel/ of some sort* and IMMEDIATELY thinking of my fave guy

[gaystonerdragon]

rip hezekiah wakley, the buried avatar that never was. u were my fave character for real, and the sexiest mf out there. ily u tired dirty bitch.

[jeonqqin]

to the moon. [m]

h. jisung x reader | pregnancy au

— ❝Becoming a young mother was never your intention. But you had Jisung there with you, so it all really seemed like it would be okay.❞

WORD COUNT: 5k

CONTAINS: light smut, angst, movie spoilers(???), description of pregnancy/surgery, complications

WARNING: very mild smut, pregnancy sex, do not read if easily triggered by death and/or surgery

A/N: hope you enjoy my first blurb :)

blog masterlist  | ⟲ fic song

© jeonqqin 2020

Never once did you think you’d get pregnant so soon in life. With a belly bump that pushed against even the loosest of your sweaters, and more emotions than you knew what to do with. But after the initial shock of it all, you actually grew excited. A baby was growing inside of you, and for whatever reason, that made you feel so damn happy. Your boyfriend had to take some time to come around to the idea of being a dad at nineteen years old, but he too grew to love the little tot that made your belly round.

At three months pregnant, Jisung insisted on reading books out loud, convinced that the baby could hear him and knew the sound of daddy’s voice. So, every night before the two of you went to sleep, he opened up whatever book was on hand—it really didn’t matter what it was—and read until you fell asleep against him. It was more difficult when he was on tour, considering you were more emotional than usual and prone to outbursts that you never really meant. While traveling, he was often in a different time-zone, so he couldn’t really call at regular times, and when he did have any spare time, he’d use it to eat and sleep. You were frustrated, to say the least. But you pulled through. Thankfully one of the other members of Stray Kids—Chan, you suspected—came up with the voice memo idea. Jisung ended up sending you recordings of him just talking about nothing at all, and you’d play every new one when you woke up or when you had time.

“Hello little one, it’s your daddy. I really can’t wait to see you, so please hurry out, okay?”

You laughed, rubbing your palm over your stomach. “Don’t listen to him. Please take your time…”

“Mommy and I are ready to take such good care of you—oh, and all of your crazy uncles, of course—”

“You’re the only crazy one of us, Sungie!”

“Ah, don’t listen to him, baby. Like I said, they’re crazy.”

You smiled fondly down at your phone as you continued to listen to the boys all bicker back and forth. They really were still kids.

“Ah, shi—daddy’s got to go! Take care of mommy for me and don’t cause her too much trouble while I’m gone! Bye, my loves, I’ll see you both soon.”

And you never told Jisung, but you’d play their music out loud as you did little domestic things around the apartment. Usually, you played their upbeat music when you were doing chores; songs like Gone Days, Awkward Silence and Get Cool. But on nights you missed Jisung, you played their pretty songs. Neverending Story and Mixtape: On Track, were the baby’s favorites, you found. You swore you felt the baby kick every time, and soon came to the conclusion that Jisung was right and the baby did know daddy’s voice.

The little guy seemed to like Seungmin’s parts too—and that was also a detail you wouldn’t mention to Jisung.

At four months pregnant, you began to really crave some strange things; from peanut butter in every form, to literally slicing and eating lemons like they were oranges. Jisung put up with all of it and proved to be the perfect father and boyfriend by following every craving with you and giving up everything you couldn’t eat. You’d heard stories about husbands promising to give up alcohol and deli meats for their wives but quickly copping out after the first week—not Jisung. He stuck with you and kept going no matter how hard it was to eat a lemon with breakfast every morning. He was a determined father, and it brought you to tears one night when Stray Kids were going out to celebrate their comeback with drinks, but Jisung declined to tend to you for the night.

“Baby, wha—why are you crying, sweetheart?”

You held your face in your hands as you shook your head, doing the best you could to direct the conversation away from you. He was doing so much for you and just giving you everything you could want, but you couldn’t even listen to him for three minutes without your body giving you some sort of hell.

“I’m okay, Sungie. Just the hormones.” You sniffed, wiping at all the tears that fell down your cheeks in an attempt to stop them, but to no avail.

Jisung hummed, scooting a little closer to you on the couch. You were wearing one of his sweatshirts, which had been turning into a more common occurrence as you got more round, but he loved it. There would be no complaints on his end. It just made you look so much more soft and fluffy to him—that and the fact that you were carrying his child inside of your tummy. He was really loving the whole father thing more and more as time passed.

“Okay, baby. Come here then.” He cooed softly, pulling you into him and wrapping a blanket around the both of you. “Take a nap, for now, let it pass.”

He was really so good.

“I love you.”

He smiled, placing a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

Five months pregnant, you didn’t expect to be so horny. You were less queasy, and according to your doctor, “there was an increased amount of blood flow to your genitals.” She had said it was normal to have sex during your second trimester of pregnancy, but no matter how much you tried to convince Jisung to just fuck you he was too convinced that he’d hurt the baby somehow. And your pregnant mind decided to play a fun little game on you called, Let’s Make Y/n Insecure. So as Jisung was at the studio, you watched some sad movies and cried. Of course, it was a common activity you took part in when Jisung was gone, but it was a little different due to your newfound self deprecating thoughts. You were getting bigger and it did not make you feel sexy in any shape or form, and Jisung—someone that was so much of a horndog before your pregnancy that he would jump at the opportunity to get his dick wet at any given point in time—didn’t even want to have sex with you when you asked? It led you to believe that he didn’t think you were pretty anymore. And you ended up asking yourself, what if he was going to other girls at the company to meet his needs? Deep down, you knew he would never do such a thing to you, but you were still young and supposed to be in your prime, and your boyfriend didn’t want you. It freaked you out.

“Sweetheart, I’m home!” Jisung called from the front door, but you didn’t answer, instead, you just shoveled some more ice cream into your mouth as you watched the scene on t.v play out. Jisung frowned, placing the takeout he brought with him on the table. “Baby? You awake?”

His eyes met your form when he walked into your shared bedroom, confusion lacing his gaze. But you didn’t acknowledge him, even when he moved to sit next to you, you just continued to glare at the t.v.

“Baby, look at me,” he said, delicately cupping your cheek, but you jerked your head away. “What did I do wrong, Y/n?”

You sighed, turning to him frustratedly. “Why don’t you want to have sex with me, Jisung? Is it because of my belly? Am I not sexy anymore? Do you want to fuck other girls instead?” You threw questions at him as he stared at you with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. When he remained silent, you turned back to the movie on the screen with glassy eyes, god damn your emotions.

He panicked. “No! No, no, of course not, sweetheart!” He quickly moved to tug you into his arms, placing a soft kiss to your lips. “You’re the only one I want, and the only one I’ll ever want. Sex right now is just…”

“Gross? Weird?” You scoffed.

“Not something I thought we could do.” He confessed with a red face. “Believe it or not I’ve never gotten a girl pregnant before, and I don’t really know what precautions we need to take. The last thing I want to do is hurt either of you.”

You melted into his touch, your feeling of insecurity disappearing. “Sungie, you won’t hurt me or the baby. The doctor had specifically told me that sex was fine, she said it was normal at this point of pregnancy.”

You had to hold back a laugh as his eyes lit up immediately. “Really? It won’t hurt our baby?”

“No, Sungie.” You smiled with a giggle, kissing his lips. “Our baby will be fine.”

Suddenly, Jisung was hoisting you onto his lap with a surprising amount of strength. You could feel just how eager he was through his pants, and it brought you back to the days when you and Jisung were in such a position nearly every day. It was exciting. He groaned low in his throat as you rolled your hips against his hardening member.

“Shit, how could you think that I didn’t want to fuck you, baby? All cute with my baby in your belly.” He sighed, running his hand up your small bump and stopping on your breasts. You moaned; high and whiny due to the sensitivity of your nipples. “And your gorgeous tits.”

“Ji, I missed your hands, baby.” You whined, rubbing your palms over his hard chest.

Jisung hummed, dipping his hands under your sweater to touch your warm skin. “Yeah? You like when I touch you like this, sweetheart?”

“So much.”

“Good,” he said, rutting up against you. “Now move those cute hips for me, baby.”

In your sixth month pregnant, Jisung finally brought you over to the dorm to see the boys—or more importantly, for the boys to see you. You really were glowing; Jisung had never seen someone so beautiful in his life. With your plump belly in all its glory, the boys were ecstatic to finally see you. Jisung had held it off originally because he was nervous of their opinion and didn’t want to put you in that position—of course, he knew they wouldn’t do anything to hurt you or your feelings, but there was always that one doubt that left him hesitant. Of course, he realized how ridiculous he had been the moment you walked through the dorm doors.

Changbin and Chan had immediately tugged you to the couch as carefully as possible—even going as far as offering to carry you. But you denied with a laugh, walking to the couch just fine on your own.

“But thank you, boys.” You had squeezed their hands with a smile and nearly sent them into cardiac arrest.

“Is she only cuter because she’s pregnant?” Minho had whispered. “Is that a thing?”

Jeongin made a noise of discomfort. “I think that’s weird of you to say, Hyung.”

Throughout the evening all of the boys had stepped up to care for you; Changbin had massaged your shoulders as Hyunjin and Felix dutifully moved around the dorm to collect every pillow and blanket in sight to make a little nest around you, and Seungmin and Jeongin conversed with you while Minho and Chan were busy in the kitchen making dinner. It was a bit of a mess, but you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Hyunjin cooed over your baby bump as you ran your hand over it. “So, Y/n, have you decided—”

There was a sudden kick under your palm, causing you to jump with a small surprised “oh” leaving your lips.

The boys surrounding you looked at your stomach with awe, Jisung laughing at their bewildered faces. “It’s like you guys have never seen a pregnant woman before.”

You smiled. “Do you want to feel?”

And there was suddenly seven pairs of hands groping your stomach. It certainly was entertaining to watch them argue over who felt the kick and who was “the baby’s favorite”. They might have all been a little off their rocker, but at least you had your village to help raise your baby.

At seven months you finally decided to come up with names. Jisung expressed several times that it was his favorite part, and he had been looking forward to it for weeks. Of course, the two of you had briefly talked about the gender and names but came to the conclusion that you wanted it to be a surprise and the name thing you’d just deal with later. Well, when you finally went to Jisung to talk about names, you concluded that Jisung’s father would go through the process of finalizing the name—to respect the tradition in their family—and the two of you would pick the name yourselves. Thankfully, Jisung’s parents had been very accepting of everything so far, his mother just excited to see her grandchild and his father proud of his son for stepping up to take care of you properly.

“What about Soo—something? Or Seo? Han Soo-hyuk? Han Soo-hyun? Or just Han Soo-hun?” Jisung rambled, looking at the ceiling as you cuddled into his side. It was late at night, and neither of you could sleep, so it seemed to be a good time to talk about mindless things. “What do you think, baby?”

You hummed. “I like Soo-hyun for a boy, it’s pretty.”

Jisung smiled as he ran his palm against your belly. “And for a girl? Any ideas?”

“Eun-jin is cute. I like Ye-sung too.”

“What about Ji-hyun?”

“Han Ji-hyun.” You smiled, stroking his cheek. “Yeah, I really like that one.”

On your eighth month of pregnancy, your food cravings shifted over to movie cravings. For some strange reason, you had the urge to watch every Disney and Pixar movie you could get your hands on. It was a flashback to childhood for sure, and you’d just spend days watching Disney princesses until Jisung got home and encouraged you to go for a walk with him for some exercise. Jisung himself was convinced it was all in your head and the baby fever was just hitting you extra hard, but he never once complained. He just sat back in bed with you and watched every movie that you put on.

“How about Beauty and the Beast?” You asked, scrolling through the countless amount of movies on the screen.

“Y/n, we literally watched that last week.” Whined Changbin from the foot of the bed, his legs kicking up behind him like a child. “I don’t want to sit through another session of you pointing at the screen and saying, omg that little cup looks just like Jeonginnie!—OW.”

He reeled back away from Hyunjin’s swinging arm. “You’re just upset that she called you Gaston’s tiny sidekick, knowing full well that you are.”

“At least I wasn’t compared to a gay-ass candlestick.”

You giggled as the boys bickered, all of them throwing comments about how their assigned characters were better than the others, even Jisung chimed in how “unfair” it was that Chan got to be the beast and he was stuck being compared to Gaston.

“Well, it’s pretty true, Sungie.” You cooed, stroking his cheek. “Chan’s way more of a prince type.”

Chan winked cheekily at his friend from his place on the floor.

“It doesn’t matter who’s who—” Seungmin started.

“—you can’t say shit, clock-boy—”

“—just pick another movie,” Seungmin said, raising his middle finger towards Changbin.

So you settled on the movie Inside Out, a cute Pixar film with lots of colorful characters that caught your eye. None of you had seen it, so it was an easy decision. But it still hadn’t stopped you from dubbing each boy as a respectable character every five minutes.

“Oh my god,” you gaped as the character that called himself Bing Bong. “Jisung, that is you.”

The room erupted into laughter at your words, Minho even going as far as falling off the end of the bed. Jisung looked at you with an open mouth, in utter shock.

“Him?! The fat pink elephant? You think I look like a fat pink elephant?”

“She’s right! You do look like that guy!” Seungmin snorted through his laugh, falling into Jeongin for support.

“He’s just goofy, baby. It reminds me of you.”

For the majority of the movie after that, Jisung pouted, his head resting against your chest. Your boyfriend really acted like a child at points, and his dynamic personality only made you love him more. So, every time he huffed, you just giggled and ran your fingers through his hair exactly how he liked. But strangely enough, he started to get too committed to the movie to pout, his eyes never leaving the screen as the scenes became more intense.

Especially when the so-called “fat pink elephant” sacrificed himself to save the main character from being forgotten forever. Unfortunately, you were already an emotional wreck, so it didn’t take much for you to break down, but as the sound of sniffles filled the room, you figured the rest of the boys were in the same boat. And the damn Bing Bong guy was like Jisung—the most loyal person you knew, positive even the hardest of times, and too selfless for his own good. The love of your life was more than just self-sacrificing; he’d give everything up for his family.

“Go save Riley!”

The room fell silent for only a second, everyone holding their breath as the inevitable played out. Jisung held you closer with glassy eyes, his cheek unknowingly pressing harder against your breasts. From the corner of your eye, you saw Hyunjin cling to Felix like Velcro, the two holding each other close as they watched the screen. And there was Seungmin and Changbin at the end of the bed, their legs tangled together and their intertwined hands discreetly tucked between them. Chan’s fingers were threaded in Jeongin’s hair as the younger leaned against their leader’s legs, and Minho smiled at the screen softly, his eyes holding something both sad and happy as he watched the movie. You smiled too, tears slowly covering your cheeks.

“Take her to the moon for me, okay?”

You pressed a small kiss to your boyfriend’s forehead as you felt him let out a brief sob against your chest.

For the first time of your pregnancy, you felt comfortable looking around at your crazy little family and thinking, “yeah, your baby was going to be just fine”.

To say that everyone was ready for you to go into labor early would’ve been a complete lie. Everyone was ready for you to go to the hospital on time, so Jisung obviously reacted with a little panic when you announced that your water broke and a rough pain settled in your side. He was quick to your side, his phone already pressed to his ear as he directed you to sit down—whatever fluid that got on the couch be damned. He called his parents, shouting that you were in labor and needed to go to the hospital, so they quickly responded and told him they’d be there in five minutes. So then he called Chan to spit out the news—and the speed that his words left his mouth could’ve competed with the pace of his raps—before hoping his friend had been able to decipher his words and hanging up. Of course, everything afterward went to plan—you were screaming in pain while Jisung held your hand in his while his parents drove you both to the hospital. But you did just as the doctors told you; you pushed and pushed, Jisung still gripped onto your hand, albeit you both looked pale as hell, but you were able to push one last time and see your baby—your baby girl.

“Congratulations mom and dad, it’s a beautiful little girl.”

She was carefully placed in your arms, and god you knew then and there that you would endure another nine months of torture for your daughter in a heartbeat. She was beautiful.

Jisung lifted his palm to caress the small head of your daughter, he had tears shining in his eyes as he looked at his two worlds in front of him. “Baby, look at her. She’s perfect, isn’t she?”

You smiled with heavy eyes. “Our little girl.” Despite all the energy having been zapped out of you and the killer cramps, you couldn’t look away. “She has your eyes, Sungie…”

Jisung felt a tear drop down his cheek as he laughed. “She sure does. And your lips, and Chan’s eyebrows, and Minho’s nose, and Jeongin’s little dimples, and Felix’s cheeks, thank god she doesn’t look like Changbin—oh wait.”

You laughed, resting your head against his. “Our little family.”

“Han Ji-hyun.”

“Yeah,” you smiled, feeling consciousness slowly slip away from you. “I really like that name, Sungie—”

Your eyes then slipped shut, and Jisung frowned, immediately holding your cheek in his hand. “Hey, sweetheart, what—?” But he was interrupted by a low groan that left your lips, your body twisting in a way that suddenly brought panic to the staff in the room. Slowly the heart-rate monitor’s beeping became incessant and rang louder in his ears as the nurses in the room called for a doctor, taking the newborn from your arms. Suddenly, the room was filled with a chaos that Jisung couldn’t keep up with.

“The patient just had a seizure, get her on a breathing tube immediately.”

“Get it down her throat—”

“Is it eclampsia or HELLP syndrome?”

“There’s no time to take the tests, doctor. Her liver has inflamed at a rapid pace.”

“Get magnesium sulfate in her IV now!”

“Baby?” Jisung whispered, tugging your hand into his as nurses attempted to usher him out of the room. “Baby, open your eyes and look at me, please—”

“Sir, we need you to—”

“Tell me what’s wrong with her!”

But they pushed on. “You need to leave the room, sir.”

You cried out as another convulsion wracked through your weak body, and Jisung felt his heart shatter at the sight. His hand reached out to grip your hand, feeling your shaky fingers intertwine with his as you released a whimper. You were looking paler and paler by the second, doctors and nurses rushing around doing things that Jisung could never even guess, but he didn’t care. You were the only thing he had his sights on.

“S-Sungie,” you choked like you were freezing, your lips quivering. “Our baby—where’s my baby? What happened to my baby?” You yelled, pushing violently against the hands of the doctors.

Jisung felt wetness on his cheeks. “Baby, she’s fine. Our baby’s fine, sweetheart.” He lifted your clammy hand to his lips. He was helpless as the nurses attempted to guide him away from you, all he could do was watch as you struggled and fought hysterically. “Come on, Y/n. Please come back to me, sweetheart…”

You shrieked in pain once again as you thrashed in a doctor's hold, nonsense about them taking your baby was spilling from your lips.

“Induce her!”

Jisung’s eyes widened as a nurse pushed past him, quickly injecting something into your IV. It physically hurt him to watch as you slowly fell limp against the hospital bed, your eyes lazily gazing at him.

“Y/n?” His voice was shaking, he knew. “Please baby—”

“Sungie.” You sighed, your fingers twitching in his grip and your head lolling to the side. “You saw her right?”

Jisung nodded, raising your hand to his face, moving your palm to cup his cheek. “She’s beautiful, sweetheart. Our baby is so beautiful.” He smiled.

Your eyelids dropped as you hummed. “Please, Sungie—” You had to peel your eyes back open, looking at the man you fell in love with, with a smile. He had been so good to you, even before you found out that you were carrying his baby. Maybe you were just kids, but you knew you loved him, and you knew he loved you. And there was no doubt in your mind that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. Your sweet little girl could become anything she wanted, and you wanted to watch that. Surely with a family like yours, she would thrive in a loving environment, and there would never be a moment where she would be unloved. With your boys there for her—with Jisung there for her, you knew she’d be just fine. You wanted to watch him grow with Stray Kids, while your child grew beside them. Maybe you still could. “Look at me.”

Jisung’s lip wobbled as he looked up from your interlocked fingers. Your hands were too cold.

So you inhaled deeply as unconsciousness slowly took over and waves of nausea pounded against your head. But you pushed through to look at Jisung—the man you knew would give your baby girl a life to be excited to live. “Take her to the moon for me, Sungie.”

Never once did Jisung think he’d be a dad so soon in life. With a pregnant girlfriend that played his songs for their baby to hear and stole his clothes on the daily. But after the initial shock of it all, he grew excited. He was going to start a family with a woman he’d loved, and no matter how much he thought about the consequences, he was the happiest man alive. Granted, he had to take some time to come around to the idea of being a dad at nineteen years old, but he too, grew to love both the woman bearing his child and the baby inside.

At three years old, Han Ji-hyun looked just like her mother. Precious in every way, shape, and form. Stray Kids looked after her like they were her own parents; uncles in the strangest forms. Chan wasn’t afraid to take her to his studio when it was his turn to watch her, because somehow she knew not to make a sound when he was working. Minho stepped in as Ji-hyun’s mother figure—making her meals, cleaning her up, and simply teaching her about the little things in life. Changbin was the most hesitant to find a role in the little girl’s life, but eventually, he became her favorite uncle in terms of how he showed his love. Hyunjin took her everywhere he could go, solely because he knew how much you liked to see places and found the similar trait in Ji-hyun. Felix was her best friend in the world and she was his, and he didn’t care about what anyone thought of their relationship. Seungmin taught her life lessons every child needed to learn, like how to use the bathroom on her own, how to write her name, how to ride a bike, and countless other things. Jeongin—surprisingly enough—acted as her protector; nothing was going to harm Ji-hyun while Jeongin was alive and he swore to that the day she was born. But they’d all give anything for their precious girl.

Just how you did.

Jisung was her father—and an amazing one at that. Ji-hyun was a daddy’s girl from the very beginning, never once wanting to leave his side. He wanted to do exactly what you wished for, because he wasn’t one to hold grudges or muddle over things for too long, and as your last wish of him, there was no way he’d deny the love of his life anything. Ji-hyun was his whole world. And it didn’t hurt to see you every time he looked at her. Jisung was happy to have a part of you with him, and he knew that you would’ve never wanted it any other way. You were so strong, it baffled him. Ji-hyun was just the same.

“Daddy, can you put on mommy’s movie?”

Jisung was caught off-guard when he looked up from his laptop to see his three year old still up and not in bed. It was way past her bedtime and he knew she’d be tired in the morning, but the way she looked at him made him weak. He sighed. “Get in bed.”

Ji-hyun giggled as she climbed onto Jisung’s large bed, nearly being swallowed by all the blankets. Jisung smiled at her excitement, peeling off his jacket and shoes before taking a seat next to her. Immediately, she crawled into his arms, her head resting on his chest.

By the age of three, Ji-hyun knew all the words to Inside Out by heart. It was a movie she associated with her mother and went to it for comfort at times. So did Jisung, if he was being honest.

She pointed at the screen. “There’s mommy.”

Jisung smiled as his daughter pointed towards the blue-haired character—Joy. And he couldn’t help but agree. “There’s mommy.”

Absentmindedly, Jisung toyed with the engagement ring that sat, snug around his ring finger. It was a beautiful ring, one that confused most people that saw it. The ring was in fact, yours. You just never got the chance to see it, since he had kept in his pocket for nine months too long—never able to ask.

[queensparklekitten]

A raid from the POV of a villager. Inspired by the raid I just fought off in Minecraft. 

(contains mentions of blood and murder) 

When your iron golem died in battle some days ago while the local player was in the nether, it’s scary enough to see a zombie. 

But a zombie is desirable compared to a small group of pillagers across the river from here, brandishing crossbows and fully ready to slaughter us all. 

We’re a small village, and even though I’m a weaponsmith, none of us are really capable of combat. My job isn’t useless, however, as the girl in enchantment-glittering diamond armor proves time and time again when she sells me tons of coal and iron ingots for cheap prices. I’m a journeyman by now, and she’s helped me with it a lot. 

Speaking of her, I hope she comes here soon. The pillagers know where our village is, and our iron golem is dead, which... is not a good combination. Were the player here, she could kill the pillagers, or sell me more iron to make a new golem, or- 

"Well this sure wasn’t what i was expecting from this trip, but okay.” 

I recognize that voice. It’s her. 

Dear lord, what a relief. I’ve seen her bludgeon a zombie to death with a wooden shovel. She’ll have no trouble against a few pillagers with that diamond sword... hold on. Her sword wasn’t black before. 

No. Freaking. Way. She has a netherite sword. I’ve heard of netherite, and I believed it was real and felt vindicated when she excitedly told us that she found some, but hearing about netherite and seeing it for yourself are two different things. 

I can’t help but watch as she fights the pillagers. She takes a few arrows, but within several minutes, she’s slaughtered them all. The last one she kills is the tallest one, which drops something on the ground. From across the river, I can’t tell what it is, but she seems to know, since she picks it up and stares at it for a minute. 

“Oh god. She didn’t!” 

I notice for the first time the librarian next to me, watching the player place down the item. From where she places it, I can see it better now: A banner of some kind, with what looks like a pillager face on it. 

I realize that pillager wasn’t very tall after all- it just had a banner on its head. But wait, didn’t I hear somewhere that’s a bad omen? 

As if hearing my thoughts, the librarian responds. “Raids almost always happen after a player arrives, and they usually have a banner that looks exactly like that!”

“Wait, are you saying we’re going to get raided? But the iron golem is dead!” 

The librarian points to the player. She’s standing still, looking at us from across the river, taking out golden apples and her crossbow. Preparing for battle. 

“Oh shit.” 

She runs into the village, golden apple in hand. 

The farmer must have seen too, because he’s running towards the bell, and rings it like crazy. The librarian rings it too, right before the player arrives, frantically ringing the bell so hard it’s almost horizontal, screaming at us to get inside now in what I can tell is panic. She doesn’t stop ringing the bell. Getting the hint, I run into the nearest building and shut the door behind me, making sure to not be visible from the window. 

A few minutes later, the bell-ringing stops. I hear the sound of a horn in the distance. 

Trying to stay as far away as possible from the window, I listen to the sounds of battle. Arrows hitting shields, pillagers and the player and the librarian all screaming over each other, fighters falling backwards and eventually the unmistakable sound of something being killed with a very sharp object. A moment later, I hear that sound again, but slightly different. And again, but slightly different again. 

And then approaching sounds of faint panting. Something catching its breath. 

I don’t hear any more pillagers. Is the raid over already? 

I take the chance to look out the window. The player is standing there, blood on her chestplate, arrows strewn around her on the floor, the dead bodies of pillagers near her. No alive ones in sight. I see others leaving their houses, so I leave the building. No arrows fly towards me. 

Did she win that fast? Holy crap! Netherite really IS as powerful as they say- 

“Why are you outside? The raid’s not done!” 

“But you killed them all-” 

“That was only the first wave.” 

She rings the bell again, golden apple in hand. “Get back inside! It’s not safe yet! Get back inside! It’s not safe yet!” 

I run towards the first building I see. The fletcher must have seen that same building, because they’re running towards it as fast as I am. The player is following them. I can see why. Everyone with half a brain can tell the fletcher is the player’s favourite member of this village. They dip her arrows in poison for only one or two emeralds per 5 arrows. She can’t get enough of the poison arrows. Obviously, her only source of them needs to be well-protected. 

The minute the fletcher gets inside, the player takes out the first block she can get to start barricading- wait, no! I’m not in yet! 

I speed up, charging for the house as fast as I can, my legs hurting and my mind racing. I scream to her, telling her to wait up, and dive into the house the moment she places a netherrack block in front of the door, blocking us from getting out and the raiders from getting in. The fletcher slams the door, and I collapse on the bed, gasping and panting. 

“Oh my god... a millisecond to spare and I would have been locked out with the raiders!” 

As I try to collect myself, I hear the horn again, and the second wave begins. 

The fletcher is looking out the window, so I decide to take a peek too, see what’s going on out there. I can see them. Most of them wield crossbows, save for one, wearing a banner and carrying an iron axe. I don’t see the player. She’s most likely barricading the rest of us indoors. 

Then I hear someone scream for help. 

It’s the farmer, still outside, looking for a house to hide in- oh god. He’s much closer to the pillagers than the only thing currently capable of defending us is. 

I run to the door to look for the player. I see her through the acacia door right as she turns to where she heard the scream, and runs towards the raiders as another scream goes up, netherite sword gleaming with enchantment and a mix of fear and fury in her eyes- 

She stops running. 

I run to the window. What I see makes me want to scream myself. 

The farmer is dead on the ground, arrows stuck in him in four different places. 

The fletcher actually does scream. I cover their mouth, and they begin to break down crying. The fletcher and the farmer were always hanging out, chatting before work and sometimes staying in the same house. Now one of them is dead, and the other may well soon be. 

As I’m hiding under the blankets with the fletcher, I hear a loud enraged growl, as if from some kind of wild animal I’ve never seen before. I assume the raiders have brought some sort of beast, but then I hear the voice of the player coming from where that growl was. Only lower, and overflowing with fury. The same voice that made that sound from before. 

“You BASTARDS.” 

I look out the window in time to see her charge. She swings her sword and blocks arrow after arrow with her shield, hitting raider after raider. The one with the iron axe hits her shield right, and it seems to stop working for a moment, causing her to take a hit from an arrow, then one from the axe, then a couple more arrows. She swings her sword again and then runs. 

Wait, what? She ran? But she’s our defender, why is she running? How badly did she get hurt from the arrows? 

She returns a moment later, surrounded by the pink haze of regeneration. 

Ah. Golden apple break. 

This time, she places another netherrack block, and jumps to place another beneath her, towering up and up until I can’t see her anymore. 

A moment later, arrows rain from the netherrack tower, the poison tipping them getting into the raiders’ blood and taking effect immediately. Not even a minute later, she’s breaking her tower to get back down to the now weakened enemies. 

“Hey, look! She’s avenging him! And she used your arrows!” 

The fletcher looks up, and looks out the window just in time to see the player dismember a pillager before collecting her missed arrows and stabbing another pillager. 

I cannot describe the sound the fletcher made. But I can describe the sound that came after that- namely, their screaming that the pillager deserved it for FUCKING MURDERING HIM, before starting to cry again. 

The player finishes off the third pillager and runs off to get the raider with the axe, who had run off while she was on the tower. 

The two of us hide from the window, the violence we witnessed playing on loop in our heads, shaking and thinking maybe we should try looking out the window again to see what’s going on and not looking out the window again and wondering what will happen if this raid lasts until night and hugging pillows until the moment we hear another horn sound. 

I hear more carnage outside. I don’t want to look at what’s happening out there, but part of me wants to. I want to see what exactly is going on. Or maybe I just want to see a netherite sword in action. I am a weaponsmith, after all, and after enough time working with weapons, you begin to really love the stronger ones, admire the beauty of a shining sword made of black metal excavated from the Nether itself and fused with gold. Or maybe I just want assurance that the player isn’t dead. Even if she can cheat death, she’d still have to return here from her base, giving the enemy plenty of time to do whatever they want. 

What makes me give in to the urge to look outside is hearing a roar that I know was not from the player. 

I look in the direction of the roar and see what made it, and instantly wish I hadn’t. What the hell is that thing. 

It’s enormous, that’s for sure. And it has horns, and appears to be saddled with some form of armor. And its face... its face is far too much like ours for anything that isn’t our species. The eyes are almost the same, the eyebrows, the nose, the only thing making its face look different from those of your average villager or pillager is the dark gray complexion and its enormous jaws with sharp teeth. 

It roars, and the sound itself seems to knock the player backwards, throwing her into the center of the village. She cries for the iron golem before remembering it’s dead, and realizing she has no choice but to kill this thing herself. 

She loads up a poison arrow in her crossbow and fires at the monster’s creepy face. A direct hit. The thing doesn’t go down. 

I go back to hiding and listening as arrows are shot and both raiders and the player take damage. As the battle rages on outside, I start wondering why the player came here at all if she knew we would get raided if she didn’t turn back. Was there a reason she couldn’t go home? 

I get so caught up in thinking about this I don’t even notice when the sounds of battle stop until the door opens. The player is standing there, covered in blood. I can’t tell how much of it is her own and how much belonged to the raiders. 

“It’s safe to come out now. We won.” 

As everyone comes out from the houses they took shelter in, one by one we take in the scene. 

The streets are red and littered with the bodies of pillagers, some of them dismembered or sliced clean in half or decapitated. There are small puddles of poison where the missed arrows landed, and at least one damaged crossbow lying on the ground. One of the corpses is of that massive beast I saw, with at least five arrows stuck in it. And standing in the middle of it all is the player, panting in exhaustion, looking like she’s about to collapse. 

“Holy crap...” 

“Well someone’s gotta clean that up.” 

“You saved us!” 

That last one gets repeated. And... they’re right. She saved us. She saved us all.

The librarian sets off a blue firework, blazing bright against the red sunset, and the village rejoices. 

“Hey, it’s getting dark, and it takes a while to get home, you guys mind if I crash here?” asks the player. 

“Sure! You can stay wherever you want.” 

She enters the nearest house and collapses from exhaustion almost immediately. 

The next morning, the dead bodies have been moved away and the player has collected the saddle. We insist she not help us, but she says she should, and we can’t argue with her. 

The whole village is offering her discounts for heroism, and she trades and trades with us. By the end of the day, she’s sold every iron ingot she currently has on her, and made tons of paper for the express purpose of selling it. 

I overhear her conversation with the fletcher. 

“I’m sorry for your loss... you don’t need to give me discounts. I understand if you’re mad at me for failing to save him.” 

“It wasn’t your fault, it was the raiders. And you did avenge him. I think it’s perfectly reasonable that you only pay 22 sticks for an emerald.” 

“Well in that case, I suppose. Oh yeah, by the way, I could not have defeated that ravager without poison arrows. Those things are made to fight iron golems, even with full diamond armor they’re super hard for a player to beat.” 

“You want more poison arrows? That’ll be one emerald for five poison arrows.” 

“Hell yeah I want more poison arrows.” 

Ravager, huh. Is that what that thing was? 

That afternoon, the village gathers in the center, along with the player and our brand new iron golem. We talk about one thing only: the raid. And somehow, the discounts have evolved into free stuff- for everyone. 

It starts with the armorer giving the player a free chainmail chestplate, which the player reacts in excitement to despite having an enchanted diamond one. Then the fletcher gives her some arrows. 

The player herself, meanwhile, has baked us all some bread. 

“Free bread! Free bread for everyone! Who wants free bread!” 

I take the bread. I also give her a free stone axe, which she accepts at once, saying she could use something to chop down a tree with for more sticks to sell and apples to make golden. I even see her using it later on, and feel a swell of pride knowing that the hero of the village is using the axe I gave her. 

A baby villager is born soon afterwards, and the player gets a free chainmail helmet and boots to go with that chestplate, plus two free books, though she continues to trade with us. 

As I’m wandering the village looking for something to do, I spot her by the small sugar cane farm she set up on the beach next to the village. She’s holding the banner from earlier, as well as a few more. 

“Collected some of these from the raiders. Don’t see much use for them.” 

She throws the banners into the ocean, and returns to the village. She’s humming a song I’ve heard her hum before. 

“Do you ever hear it?” 

I can tell at once what she’s referring to. The player speaks of hearing beautiful music from everywhere at once, as if the world itself is singing to her. You can always tell when that is even when she doesn’t hum along, because she often appears to be on the verge of tears. 

Normally, we never hear this music she speaks of. 

But in this moment, if I try to hear it, I can. 

[bytheangell]

Love Me When It Hurts (2/3)

Chapter Two: Stop Fighting With Yourself ( @shadowhunterbingo​ square: Children of the Night)  (Jimon to Raphael/Jace/Simon, Rated Teen, No Major Archive Warnings) (Read on AO3) (Read Chapter 1 Here) -------------

Simon can’t breathe. It’s dark and he can’t breathe, and-- wait. He doesn’t need to breathe. The initial panic subsides just long enough for him to process that he still isn’t breathing, but it seems to be fine.

Which is definitely not fine.

The panic kicks in again.

So do other, new instincts, primal and urgent and hungry. Simon begins to claw his way up out of fresh, loose dirt. It gets in his mouth, stings his eyes, clumps under his fingernails. His hand breaks the surface and someone latches onto it to help pull him out. Once his head is free of the ground he can see that it’s Jace, with someone Simon recognizes as vaguely familiar but not enough to immediately place the face or recall a name.

“Jace?” Simon asks, his body once more trying to breathe in the cool night air now that he’s free of his shallow grave, and his mind once more chiming in with the unsettling reminder that he doesn’t need the air. Why doesn’t he need air? It’s a reasonable question, one he should probably ask, but instead what comes out of his mouth is: “What the fuck?”

Jace pulls Simon in for a hug without answering, despite the immediate protests of the other person. Simon remembers him more now, pretty certain he’s one of the local vampires, probably someone higher-up if Simon can recall seeing him around the Institute. Simon leans into the hug for only a split-second before he feels the pulse of the vein in Jace’s neck, the sound seeming to echo in Simon’s ears like the most deafening roar.

Painful fangs tear through his gums and the other man pulls Jace back, situating himself between Jace and Simon while shoving a blood bag into Simon’s hand instead.

“I told you,” the vampire says, his voice low.

“Raphael, please,” Jace starts, but Simon’s only half-listening as he stares down with muted horror at the blood bag in his now shaking hands. The instincts kick in again, fangs tearing through the bag and draining the blood almost before he realizes he’s doing it. Simon wants to throw up but he can’t stop, and when that bag is empty and another is immediately held out in its place Simon takes that one, too, desperately ravenous.

“You need to leave,” the vampire, Raphael, insists. Simon thinks he’s talking to him at first until he sees Raphael glaring intently at Jace. “I’ll return him to you when he can control himself.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Jace says stubbornly, bringing Simon’s attention back to him as he drops the second blood bag. Despite the greater distance between them, Simon can swear he can still hear Jace’s pulse, feeling it thumping through his body like a bass drum.

Simon considers chiming in before another bag is unceremoniously placed in his hands and he’s drinking again instead of speaking. The desperation he first felt has subsided slightly, but the desire to lunge at Jace - and not in a sexy way - is still very much present.

“You should go,” Simon says, trying and failing to keep his voice even.

Jace looks like Simon slapped him.

“I don’t want to hurt you. Please, Jace. I can’t--- I couldn’t live with myself if I--” Simon’s voice shakes with the words he can’t bring himself to say.

“You wouldn’t,” Jace insists. “You wouldn’t hurt me. I know you, Si.”

Simon shakes his head, averting his gaze from Jace’s face, from the temptation of visible veins in Jace’s neck and exposed arms. “I would,” Simon admits quietly. “I want to.” Not wanting to meet Jace’s gaze Simon looks around them instead, taking in the shovel behind Jace and wondering if he dug the grave Simon just dug himself out of. He doesn't dare to ask.

“I suggest you leave, Shadowhunter, before you make Simon do something your precious Clave would have him punished for,” Raphael suggests. That gives Jace pause, fear crossing his face immediately.

“Jace, please. Just go.” Simon pleads, and when Jace hesitates Simon doesn’t.

“Fine, then I will,” Simon says, unable to stand being in Jace’s for another second in this condition. A moment later he’s gone, using his newfound vampire speed to sprint all the way to the Hotel Dumort.

---

“I was hoping I'd find you here,” Raphael says, entering the room one of the other vampires put Simon in to wait (thankfully with a few more blood bags, since Simon found himself surprisingly exhausted from the sprint there). “I was afraid you’d try and go home.”

Simon frowns. Home, to his mother and sister? Or home to the Institute? He couldn’t go to either, not anymore, he wouldn’t be welcome there. He may never be welcome there again.

“I can’t do this,” Simon tells Raphael. “I can’t- I’m not cut out for this life.”

“You can do this, Simon. And I’m going to help you. We all are,” Raphael says, and Simon isn’t sure he’s ever heard him speak so softly before. “You made it this far, and a lot of people don’t. You’re stronger than you think.”

“I didn’t make it anywhere! All I did was get myself killed,” Simon points out. His chest feels tight and he has to fight down the instinct to take several quick, short breaths. “Also it’s really unfair that I can still feel like I’m having a panic attack when I can’t even breathe.”

Raphael gives Simon a rueful half-smile. “Your human instincts will fade with time,” Raphael says, and Simon isn’t sure it’s the reassurance the vampire means it to be. He doesn’t want to forget his human instincts… that feels an awful lot like losing his humanity entirely.

“Promise me you won’t do anything foolish. I do believe your boyfriend will kill me if anything were to happen to you, and as much as I’d like to ensure you transition smoothly, I’m also rather fond of not being permanently dead myself,” Raphael points out.

Simon’s boyfriend. Jace. Is Jace even going to want to be with him now? That sends a whole new wave of anxiety through Simon.

...except he won’t know the answer to that if he can never manage to be in the same 20-foot radius as Jace again. ‘I’ll return him to you when he can control himself’ Raphael had said. Simon needs to talk to Jace, and there’s only one way he’s ever going to reach a place where he can do that.

“Alright,” Simon agrees reluctantly. “Where do I start?”

---

It turns out there’s no singular ‘good place’ to start learning to be a vampire. Every noise is too loud, every light too bright, and Simon breaks every fragile thing he touches for an entire week because he keeps forgetting his new strength. He refuses to talk about the number of walls and corners and tables he runs into while trying to get any sort of control over his speed, but at least the minor injuries heal fast.

Then there’s the blood. Despite his body’s instinctual draw to it, mentally he can’t get beyond the block he gives himself that it’s, well, blood. Whether it’s freely donated into blood bags or animal blood from a local butcher, Simon can’t figure out how to bring himself from vegetarian to consuming blood to survive… and it nearly kills him. He refuses to drink to the point of being too weak to stand some days, then on others caves and binges enough to be at full strength all in one go, then restarts the process.

“You aren’t helping yourself, Simon,” Raphael tells him. “If you’re just going to give in, you’d be better off learning how to ration - figuring out how much you need, and how often.”

This isn’t anything new. And rationally, Simon knows that Raphael is right. Irrationally, Simon thinks maybe one of these days he’ll just not drink long enough to--

No. He needs to stop thinking like that. He misses his friends and his family and Jace. Jace, who he hasn’t seen in a week and a half now because he can’t be trusted around humans with pulses and veins full of fresh, pumping blood.

It’s like Raphael can read his mind, because the older vampire adds, “If I have to turn Jace away one more day because you’re not ready, he might get a search warrant for the place just to see you.”

Simon frowns. “Sorry,” he says. “I told him to just stop coming. I don’t want to-” Simon catches his phrasing, and his frown deepens. “I can’t see him yet. He knows that.”

“Can’t, or won’t?” Raphael says, with the edge of a challenge to his tone. “You’ve taken to everything else surprisingly well this past week. If you let yourself, you could get used to the blood, too. Why aren’t you?”

“I told you, I’m a vegetarian,” Simon repeats, knowing the excuse loses weight every time he says it.

“You know you can’t be, not anymore. And you know that isn’t the only reason. You don’t want to die, but what you’re doing now isn’t going to be much of a life, either,” Raphael points out.

“I…” Simon starts, then stops. “I can’t see him. I don’t want to see him like this, I-” Simon shakes his head almost violently. His next words come out in a rush, wavering and unsteady. “I’m afraid. I’m afraid we’ll never be what we were before.”

There it is, the truth Simon hadn’t fully admitted, not even to himself, until now. As much as he misses Jace and wants to talk all of this out with him, Simon’s even more afraid that the conversation will end with them broken up, and he doesn’t know if he can survive that loss on top of everything else. At least this way he can hold on to the past and pretend a little while longer.

“Well, contrary to what you seem to be aiming for, you can’t avoid him forever by being a shitty vampire,” Raphael says, and Simon’s glad he avoids bringing up anything about Simon’s actual emotions behind his confession. “And you’ll never know about the rest until you can coexist again and see. So how about we get to that step, and you can have some sort of teenage existential love crisis then?”

It’s blunt, and a bit harsh, but since nothing else worked so far, maybe a little tough love is exactly what Simon needs. He can tell that Raphael actually sounds concerned, that he wants to make sure Simon is at least stable if nothing else.

Simon thinks maybe he can do that much.

“Fine. Give me the blood bag,” Simon relents.

---

Simon stands frozen in the lobby of the Dumort, with Jace pounding on the door outside. Each hit of Jace’s fist makes Simon wince - Raphael just told Jace that Simon wasn’t ready to see him yet before locking him out, and Jace’s previous patience seems to be entirely up now.

“Simon, let me in!” Jace’s voice shouts from the other side of the door. “You can tell me you never want to see me again to my goddamn face!”

That isn’t it. That isn’t it at all, but maybe it’d be better if he just let Jace think that-

“Say something,” Raphael hisses urgently. “He’s going to break the door down.”

Simon can’t bring himself to speak, opening and closing his mouth once, then twice. What is he supposed to say?

“Jace, stop!” Simon finally manages, and the banging slows, then stops. “I’m just not ready yet.”

He isn’t. His progress with Raphael, while good, is still far from great. Far from enough for Simon to be comfortable alone with Jace, or any human.

“Bullshit,” Jace shouts through the door, but he doesn’t start hitting it again which is a relief.

“Raphael, I’m not ready,” Simon says, turning to Raphael with a pleading look on his face.

“What if I stay?” Raphael offers. “We meet in one of the larger rooms, keep you apart, and I stay to make sure nothing goes wrong.”

“You’ll stop me if I- if I can’t-” Simon can’t bring himself to say ‘if I lose control’ or ‘if I try and kill Jace’, but he doesn’t have to.

“I will. And I’ll stop him if he pushes you too far,” Raphael adds.

During their time together Simon’s grown rather attached to Raphael… he’d go so far as to say he actually likes him - as a friend, of course. He thinks Raphael might like him too, as a person and not just out of obligation as a fledgling in his clan. Not that Simon hasn’t also noticed how protective of him Raphael’s been ever since he arrived. It’s surprisingly reassuring to know Raphael’s looking out for him.

Simon isn’t surprised to realize that after everything they’ve been through the past couple of weeks he trusts Raphael implicitly, which is the only reason he nods.

“Okay,” Simon says. “Jace,” Simon speaks again, louder now to be heard through the door. “We’re going to let you in and we can talk. But I don’t want you to come too close, alright? Promise me.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then, “I promise, Simon. Whatever you want, I just need to see you.”

Raphael walks to the door and looks back at Simon questioningly one last time, only opening it after Simon gives another small nod. Simon, standing a few feet behind Raphael, finds himself face-to-face with Jace for the first time since he turned.

Jace immediately takes a step forward, and Simon immediately takes a step back, which prompts Jace to stop abruptly. Simon hates the look of hurt he sees flash across Jace’s face, he hates that he’s the reason for it.

“We’re going to go sit down, and we can talk,” Simon tells him, and turns to walk away knowing that both of them will follow. He tries not to think about the fact that Jace is the first human he’s been around, tries to ignore the smell of a living being full of fresh blood. He isn’t sure if the sound of a pulse is something he can actually hear coming from Jace, or if his mind is playing some Tell-Tale Heart bullshit on him.

When they reach the large meeting area Simon motions for Jace to take a seat on a chair at one end of the room and moves himself to the end of a sofa as far away as possible. Raphael hovers, and Simon catches his gaze and looks to the open space beside him on the sofa, a silent question that Raphael answers with a nod before moving over to join him.

Jace watches Raphael with narrowed eyes before shifting his attention over to Simon.

“How are you doing?” Jace asks, finally breaking the silence.

“Not... great,” Simon admits slowly. “Not terrible, though. I’m getting better at it. Coming to terms with things I fought a little…” Raphael huffs out a sarcastic sound at that. “Fine, with things I fought for a lot longer than I should’ve, I know, Raphael,” Simon adds, rolling his eyes.

“That’s… good, then,” Jace says, clearly not sure what to say next. Simon wonders if that’s because he has too much he wants to say at once, or if there’s nothing left to say between them, and watches Jace’s eyes dart over to Raphael again. “Can Simon and I talk alone for a minute?”

Instead of either of them answering Jace, Raphael turns to look at Simon, and Simon’s eyes widen immediately in a panicked, silent plea for Raphael to stay.

“I think it’s best if I’m here,” Raphael answers.

“Is not being able to speak for yourself a side-effect of becoming a vampire?” Jace mutters, and Simon isn’t sure if he’s actually asking or not.

“Raphael stays,” Simon says, then winces a bit at his own sharp tone. “I mean, I’d like him to stay. I’m not comfortable being alone with-”

“It’s just me, Si,” Jace points out. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Simon doesn’t admit that it isn’t Jace hurting him that he’s worried about, but shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”

And he is. Simon is so unbelievably sorry, more sorry than he could ever convey even if he sat here and repeated it over and over until the end of time. He’s sorry he isn’t better at this, for both of them, sorry that he’s obviously letting Jace down right now.

“Fine, then we do this in front of Raphael,” Jace says. Simon braces himself, expecting the worst. “Why are you avoiding me?”

Not the worst, Simon notes with relief, but not great, either.

“I’m not avoiding you,” Simon says, but even as he says it he knows it’s a lie. “I’m avoiding everyone. Literally all of humanity, Jace.”

Jace shakes his head. “Is it because I made the call to bury you? It’s my fault you’re… like this, now.”

“I’m a vampire, Jace. You can say it. And it isn’t your fault. I got myself killed. I should be thanking you for giving me a chance to see the people I care about again. A chance to live… live-ish... again, technically speaking.” Simon sighs, knowing he’s not saying this right at all. At least some things about him haven’t changed, rambling tendencies included. “I’m just going to shut up now.”

“So you don’t hate me?” Jace asks hopefully.

“Of course not,” Simon says. Then adds quietly, “I hate myself.” It’s quiet enough that Jace can’t hear him, but Simon feels Raphael tense next to him. Right, vampire hearing.

Simon clears his throat quickly. “I just need more time to figure myself out first, before I can even start to think about where I’m going to fit back in with you and the others.”

“You fit where you always did. Where you still do. You belong with us,” Jace says without missing a beat. With me, Simon can read between the lines.

At this Raphael tenses again, and Simon hesitates. “I just need some more time,” Simon repeats. “What if… I won’t turn you away anymore if you announce when you’re stopping by. Once I’m clear for public existence maybe we can meet with the others at Taki’s? We’ll figure it out.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Jace agrees.

“Is that alright?” Simon asks Raphael, turning to face him on the sofa. “If Jace stops by once in a while? If not, I can leave, I’d just rather not. Not yet.”

Simon doesn’t know how to articulate that he feels safe here, that he feels comfortable within these walls, with other vampires, with Raphael by his side in a way he wouldn’t if he tried to meet with Jace outside the Dumort.

“If he must,” Raphael allows grudgingly. Then, softer, “Whatever will help, Simon.”

The tension Simon felt previously eases at the temporary resolution. It’s a step forward, no matter how small, and Simon smiles properly for the first time since Jace arrived.

“Can we at least hug?” Jace asks, and the tension in Simon returns immediately.

“Next time?” Simon offers. “I’m sorry. You know I would if I could. Raz-” Simon starts, choking on Raziel’s name before remembering he can’t say it any longer. “I miss you so much, Jace.”

“I miss you too, Si. It’s alright, I get it. Whatever you need, time or space or anything, it’s yours,” Jace says, standing to leave. Simon can tell it’s taking everything in him to stay on the other side of the room and not try to hug him anyway.

“Thanks for taking care of him,” Jace adds to Raphael.

“Of course,” Raphael says. They walk Jace to the door and Simon watches him leave, standing in the doorway until Jace is just a dark, blurry dot under the fading streetlights.

“Are you okay?” Raphael asks Simon after a long silence.

Simon considers the question for a moment, seriously considers it, before answering.

“I’m not sure,” he admits. “But I have to try harder to be, for both of us.”

Raphael doesn’t reply, only turns and retreats back into the building.

---

Jace calls Simon a few times over the next two weeks, always asking before he shows up at the Dumort just like Simon requested and never once complaining about the hoops he has to jump through just to see him. He never makes a big deal when Simon says no if he’s having a bad day, and he’s nothing but understanding of whatever boundaries Simon needs right now to feel comfortable.

What he doesn’t seem to understand is how comfortable Simon is at the Dumort and around Raphael, despite barely knowing the vampires there before turning. Jace, who never seemed to have an issue with vampires before, is constantly on edge and even a bit cruel, especially to Raphael. Simon invites Jace around more often, hoping the exposure will get rid of whatever seems off, but it only makes things worse.

“We could be working with you on all of this,” Jace points out after watching Raphael work with Simon on incorporating his speed into the fighting style he was previously used to. Simon’s pretty sure Jace stood the entire half hour he was there with his arms crossed over his chest.

Simon shakes his head. “It wouldn’t be the same. This is different. It isn’t like adjusting to using a speed rune. I can’t put it into words that well, just… you wouldn’t understand unless you experienced it.”

Jace frowns. “I can’t understand any of it if you don’t let me, Simon,” Jace snaps.

Simon’s face drops.

“Shit. Sorry. That wasn’t… I didn’t mean that.” Jace tries to backtrack. “I just hate seeing how comfortable you are here.”

“...you hate that I’m doing well with the people I’m literally going to have to spend the rest of eternity with?” Simon asks, confused.

“Yes. No. It’s just… watching you with Raphael. That used to be us. We used to work together like that, and I miss it. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to take it out on you, that wasn’t fair.”

It definitely wasn’t, but Simon doesn’t say that. Instead, he plasters a too-large smile on his face and shrugs it off. “It’s fine.”

Alright, so bringing Jace around the Dumort more often is definitely not the solution Simon thinks it is. Time for plan B: a slow return to the Shadowhunters.

Once Simon’s better with the whole blood thing he tries to fall back into his old life a bit. Jace even manages to get him cleared for patrol if he ever wants to join them at night, but it puts the other Shadowhunters on edge, even though Simon goes out of his way to patrol with his old bow and arrows, just like before. After an incident with Shadowhunter who’s too busy being anxious about Simon’s presence that he nearly misses the actual threat, Simon stops trying to help.

His friends are kind about it. It’s weird to be ordering the blood on tap from Taki’s instead of a milkshake, but it’s nice to see them again now that he has the random feeding urges mostly under control. It’s also nice to be sitting on the same side of the booth as Jace again, arm wrapped around him, laughing at some ridiculous story Alec is telling about Jace messing with a new recruit fresh out of the Academy. It almost feels normal.

Simon tries to take the good with the bad. He gets moments like Taki’s, he gets moonlit walks and lingering kisses on park benches… but he also gets sidelong glances every time he shows up at the Institute and nearly constant pressure from Jace to come back for good. He gets Jace showing up at the Dumort and picking fights with Raphael more and more often, accusing him of trying to keep Simon there instead of getting him to a point where he can leave for good.

“That isn’t it, Jace,” Simon defends Raphael one night. He’s been trying to walk such a delicate, thin tightrope between his old life and his new one for so long and he’s tired. He so, so tired. “I don’t belong there anymore. You know it, even if you don’t want to admit it. I can’t just be a vampire living in the Institute again like nothing’s changed.”

“What about being my boyfriend, living with me again like nothing’s changed?” Jace counters.

“I can’t do that either,” Simon says, feeling his heartbreak with every word. “Things have changed. So many things. I’ve changed! My literal genetic makeup, my entire species has changed. I can’t be who I was before.”

“You can’t, or you don’t want to be?” Jace snaps. Simon’s caught entirely off-guard by how defensive he is that he’s too stunned to answer. Jace shakes his head at the silence. “That’s what I thought.”

Simon watches Jace storm out of the Dumort that night with the phantom feeling of his heart in his throat, a lump he can’t swallow away no matter how hard he tries.

The breaking point comes a few days later when Simon goes to the Institute to try and bring back some sense of normalcy as an apology for their previous fight. That is, until he realizes he can’t activate any of the seraph blades because he can’t say the names of any of the Angels. He can’t use a witchlight. Even a weapon Jace activates and gives to him dies out the moment it’s in his grasp.

He should’ve seen this coming, but somehow it blindsides him.

“It’s fine, you can just use a normal weapon--”

“It isn’t fine, Jace,” Simon says, shaking his head. His voice is calm, quiet even. Resigned. “None of this is fine. I shouldn’t even be here.”

“Of course you should. This is your home, Si, I-”

“It isn’t. This isn’t my home, not anymore. The Clave would sooner lock me up than protect me now. You and Alec and Clary and Izzy are the only Shadowhunters who will even speak to me.”

“The others will come around. You’re still just as much a Shadowhunter as-”

“I’m not!” Simon says, and now his voice does rise because Jace isn’t listening. He isn’t getting it. “I’m not a Shadowhunter anymore, no matter how much you want me to be. And if you want a Shadowhunter who can be at your side 24/7 so badly then maybe you should find one.” Simon regrets the words the moment they leave his mouth. He tries to think of a better way to phrase all of his insecurities, to push the idea that they need to figure out a new way to move forward, not an old way to go back to, but before he can Jace replies.

“Maybe I should,” Jace agrees. “After all, you and Raphael have gotten pretty close, haven’t you? Looks like you’re already moving on just fine.”

“What?” Simon doesn’t know how Jace could even imagine he’d be doing anything behind his back like that.

“I’ve seen the way you two are - always together, always defending him, always so eager to go back to him. I’ve been losing you from day one, I just didn’t want to admit it,” Jace says, and now he’s the one who looks defeated.

“That’s ridiculous!” Simon says.

“Then tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you’d rather stay here with me than go back to the Dumort,” Jace challenges.

Simon could say it just to prove a point, but he’d be lying. He owes them both more than that right now. “I already told you I don’t feel comfortable living here again,” Simon starts to reason, but Jace cuts him off with a sharp huff of breath and a shake of his head.

“Then go.”

Simon goes. This time when he turns and walks away, even though it isn’t explicitly said, they both know it’s not just from the fight.

Simon walks away from Jace, from the Institute, from the world that’d been his entire life since the day he was born. The tears start to fall the moment he crosses through the main doors. This moment feels more final, more like a true death of who he once was than anything he’d experienced so far, and he’d literally died.

Without any other options Simon walks himself on shaky legs back to the Hotel Dumort… back to the only home - and after Jace tells the others about their breakup, the only family - he has left.

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One: Breaking the Curse

Chapter 37: A Normal Routine

He did what he had to do. He stuck to his schedule and the shadows, trying to make it so that no one would ever know that anything had changed in his life. He tried to make it so that no one would notice he was secretly running what was probably the greatest spy circle that Storybrooke had ever seen. It was something to be proud of, but he was old enough that he had no intention of bragging about it. This game was tenuous enough as it was. There was no need to make it worse. So, the day after making his deal with Jefferson, the day of Miner's Day, he did what he always did.

He got up. He took his shower. He made his breakfast. And he went into the shop.

He doubted that anyone noticed.

Miner's Day was always a small uneventful holiday anyway, and with one of the town currently missing, those he encountered seemed nearly as dreary as the weather. No one was in a festive mood. Except perhaps him.

His plan was working. Call after call informed him of that.

The first calls he received were from the cousins he'd set to watch David and Emma. Kathryn's disappearance had gone public and his little bird friends informed him that David had been released for questioning shortly after Emma brought him in. It didn't surprise him. At the moment, Kathryn was missing, but legally she didn't have anything to hold David on. With no body or physical evidence of Kathryn's death, she could have crashed her car and then wandered out of Storybrooke all on her own. Frankly, right now, even if Emma did think she was dead, she didn't have any clues as to who had done it. Sure, it could have been David, or Mary Margaret, or even Regina. But it could also have been Sara Fischer; it could have been Granny. Hell, for all Emma knew at the moment, Kathryn had crashed her car and been kidnapped by a man who could also turn into a bird. For all Emma knew…

Regina knew more than Emma did, even if she didn't necessarily know better. He hadn't spoken to Regina since all this had happened, but he had a pretty clear indication that she was pleased with his work.

The morning after Miner's Day, he got up, got dressed, made himself breakfast, and went to the shop. Shortly after arriving, he received a call from none other than Emma Swan.

"How is it that in the middle of all this the DA is dropping charges against you?" she shrieked into her phone."

"Oh?" he prompted.

"Moe French suddenly claims that you two were up in the woods, talking about the robbery when he slipped. Spencer doesn't believe it, but without Moe's testimony he says he doesn't have enough to charge you, so he's dropping the case."

"Well, that sounds right," he sighed as if he were bored but far from innocent. "It's not unlike what I told you, if you'll recall."

"That's not what I saw."

"What you saw is irrelevant," he dismissed. "If Mr. French is willing to sign a sworn statement, then you can't really be sure what you saw that night. It was rather dark if memory serves."

"Yeah…funny how Moe's truck appears to be back in front of his shop all of a sudden," she snarked.

He smiled. She was fun to debate with. "Almost as funny as my decision to put a five-year extension on his loan. One of life's mysteries, I suppose."

"Yeah…"

"Though I do find it odd that we have a woman missing, and you are taking the time to have this conversation. I rather think you've got more on your hands at the moment than I do."

She hadn't responded kindly to that comment but rather hung the phone up without saying good-bye.

The next person he heard from later that afternoon. It was none other than Dove himself, but he called with news that he hadn't quite expected. He thought he'd update him with news on Kathryn or any problems, but it turned out all was quiet on that front.

"She's upset, but she finally stopped pounding at the door, and so far, no one seems to know we're here."

"Good, keep it that way."

"I've got more you might want to know about."

"I'm all ears."

"Ruby Lucas, Widow Lucas' granddaughter-"

"I know her."

"Right, Will called me just after three. He was just starting his shift when Ruby came in. Apparently, she quit last night. Emma's hired her as some sort of assistant; she was fetching lunch. Just thought you might want to know."

Indeed he did, not just because at the end of the day he was paying the boy to look for handy information like that, but also because it was an unexpected change he hadn't prepared for. Immediately he'd called his man watching after Emma, who confirmed that the girl was in fact staying at the office, but he hadn't figured out yet why she'd been there or what capacity she was working. Frankly, it wasn't until Ruby had left the station, come back with food, and then gotten into the bug with Emma again that he realized she was doing more than just "hanging out," as he'd put it.

He grit his teeth together. The news almost made him miss Dove. He wouldn't have thought to not report it to him. But he was the commander of a tiny army at the moment. Dove was his best, most experienced soldier, he had to put him where he was most useful, and right now, that was with Kathryn. Babysitting her might be the easiest of jobs, but it was the most crucial of the jobs as well. He couldn't risk anyone else taking his post. In the end, he simply told Stan to keep an eye on everything and let him know what was happening.

What was happening…that was the question. It was a question that Stan seemed incapable of answering, not while he kept his distance. He'd followed Emma and Ruby out of town only to watch them stop near the woods; two had gone in, three came out. They'd emerged with David. It was only once they were at the hospital that he'd called to inform him of this. In his own words, David had looked "disoriented." Emma had kept a hand on his back as she led him to the car and helped him into the backseat, the pair had exchanged a glance, and then they'd ended up in the hospital. Emma had taken David in, Ruby left in the car, and not long after Regina had arrived. That was all the information that he had at the time. When he hung up the phone, he sat down at his wheel and started to spin because he could think of no other way to relieve his stress.

This was a delicate operation. These first steps were tedious, and while things were going the way he wanted them to right now, there were unexpected wrenches now thrown into the mix. David, disoriented in the woods, that was one. Regina at the hospital, that was another. Ruby was another. He didn't know what she was doing, didn't know why Emma was using her suddenly. Worst of all, he didn't have any eyes on her. This was the most important step in the process. He couldn't afford any problems or things not done properly. But the only person he could think to send to watch Ruby was the cousin watching Sidney. He didn't want to do that. He had plans for Sidney, or rather he knew that eventually, Regina would have plans for Sidney. He wanted an eye on him, especially if Regina was somewhere that she wasn't supposed to be. He tried to think of a way to get himself into the conversation, a way to insert himself early into the middle of all this, but he came up blank. He had to stay where he was. He had to wait for his opportunity to get involved properly. Besides, even if he did send someone out after her, he had no idea where Ruby had gone. Stan had taken eyes off of her once she left the hospital; she could be anywhere, the police station, Granny's, the woods, anywhere.

So he went home, spun at his wheel as Stan reported Emma's return to the station, and then returned to the hospital before going back to the apartment for the night. He went to bed. He woke up the next morning, got dressed, made himself breakfast, and was just about to go into the shop when his cell phone rang, and he took a call from Dove.

"Hey, just letting you know, I think Mary Margaret is about to be arrested for murder," was his greeting. He quickly pulled out his keys and let himself into the quiet shop before responding.

"What makes you think that?"

"Will Scarlet just called. Ruby is back at Granny's as of this morning. She quit working with Emma yesterday after…she found a heart in the woods yesterday. And Will well…he's got a friend, who has a friend, who worked at the mirror, who knows Sidney Glass and…Will says Emma got the heart's DNA tested and the results are pending, but there were fingerprints on the box that the heart was found in and they're a match for Mary Margaret."

Well, of course, her fingerprints were on it. The box belonged to Mary Margaret. He'd had his goons bury it along with something very special. "No sign of anything else?"

"No." So the shovel shard hadn't been discovered yet. Probably because Emma had sent Ruby and not gone herself, that was one of those problems he hadn't accounted for. But he tried not to panic. Ruby wasn't working the case anymore, Emma was, so there was still hope she'd go out there and review the crime scene.

"And the DNA evidence is still pending?" he confirmed once more, trying to manage exactly how much time he could give Emma before he had to push her in the direction of the crime scene.

"Not back yet, but…I called my cousin, he knows what to do."

He breathed a sigh of relief. If he was to be the mob boss, then Dove was his second in command and doing an excellent job at it. He was the only one of his cousins that actually knew the entire of his plan, or at least what he wanted him to know about it. He was suddenly incredibly grateful for the boy.

"That's good work, Mr. Dove. Very good work. I'm appreciative of the work you are doing on this. It's part of that complicated game I mentioned, and so far, everything is happening as it should…more or less." He meant to hang up, but seeing as how Dove seemed to have contacts that his cousins didn't, he sighed. "Call me when you hear the DNA has been processed."

Not long after that, Mary Margaret was arrested. The call came toward the end of the day. Stan reported soon after Dove's call that Emma had gone into the town to the pet store. Mary Margaret had gone there just after school got out, probably to check on how David was coping with his beloved wife's disappearance. When Emma emerged from the store, Mary Margaret had been cuffed. Emma had taken her back to the apartment, surprisingly, not the jail, but Stan reported quickly that it appeared to be a courtesy. When they both emerged, Mary Margaret was wearing comfortable clothes. Furthermore, after they'd stayed in the station for a while, Regina had stopped by, but then Emma had returned to the apartment. Another call came in after she left. It was Stan again.

"She's going back to the station now. She had a big bag with her when she came out. I think she might have found the knife."

Well, it wasn't DNA or a shovel, but it was evidence against her. It was still early, but he was tired of sitting on his hands, waiting for something to happen. It was time for the Dark One to jump into the fray.

[lilhemmo]

honestly i love how much you love vegeta! and i really like the way you write him! would you be able to write something around the majin saga?? not necessarily in the saga but centered around the same type of things?? maybe vegeta admitting that he misses the way he used to be when he didn't care about anything and didn't have any attachments?? and then something happens to make him realize that love isn't a crutch but a weapon? thank you in advanced!!!

a/n: thank you so much, you sweet little thing!! i hope i do your request justice :)

a/n x2: wow i am pretty much just rambling in this fic. hopefully it makes some sort of sense. 

“I will not be bested by that sad excuse for a Saiyan again!”

You hear the roar from across the courtyard and it piques your interest. You look outside to see Vegeta panting, chest heaving as he blasts through a training session. You want to laugh, but this time is different. Vegeta has always been tense, but the past few weeks have been excruciating. 

“Vegeta!” you call, leaning out the open window of the kitchen. He turns just enough that you know he’s recognized your voice and you smirk, “Lunch is ready.”

“How dare you interrupt my training?” he scoffs, snatching a bottle of water from the countertop. Vegeta drinks the entire bottle, crunching the plastic between his hands before tossing it perfectly into the trash can. 

You take a breath, “Are you okay?”

Vegeta pulls a plate of food from the counter and broods over the top of it for a moment before eating a few bites. He’s surprisingly reserved today, which only makes you even more scared and confused. 

“I refuse to fall behind him any longer,” Vegeta scowls. His jaw trembles under the stress of his teeth as he grinds them together roughly. “Even in death, he surpasses me. I can sense it.”

You shake your head and lean against the counter, your arms tucked around your abdomen. “I think that’s part of the reason you’re having issues.”

He raises a brow and you swear you see his eyes start to glow. Vegeta grunts before shoveling another mouthful of food between his lips. he doesn’t answer you immediately, but when he does, the sheer anger that is simmering just beneath the surface of his words sends a chill down your spine.

“I would rather die than be bested by that terrible representation of our race.”

You swallow and respond despite everything in your body telling you to tread carefully, “I don’t know what crawled in your armor this morning, but you need to calm down. Your whole life doesn’t have to revolve around Goku, you know. Maybe try just getting better for yourself?”

“You foul woman,” Vegeta growls, grasping you by the collar to pull you close. “How dare you speak out against me, Prince Vegeta?”

“Talking about yourself in third person won’t make you any more intimidating,” you narrow your eyes at him and wedge your pointer finger into the hollow of his throat. “I’m sick and tired of this back and forth, Vegeta. It’s redundant for you to believe that all there is in life is for you to be better than Goku.”

“Kakarot,” he huffs under his breath. 

You roll your eyes again, “Regardless! Haven’t you seen that there is so much more to life than just the next fight? You’re absolutely ridiculous!”

Somehow you manage to slap his hand away so he releases his grip on you. You turn on your heels and don’t look back over your shoulder as you make your way back to the engineering building, ready to fill your mind with busy work so you don’t have to worry over the frustrating prince. 

--

Something shifts the next time he’s in the med bay. 

You’ve engineered a new type of spray on bandage that minimizes healing time by half, which is much better than your last invention. You’re rubbing in the adhesive when you notice the Saiyan’s eyes are on you.

You tilt your head up in silent questioning. He does not say anything.

Vegeta’s dark eyes are difficult to look away from - he commands you with just a glance and you know he would have made a strong king, if his planet were still around. He would have been a proud Saiyan, one who led his people with honor. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asks you, breaking your mind from your imaginative state.

You can’t help the small grin that perks your lips, “You.”

It’s bold, and daring, but you do it anyway. 

His voice catches in his throat as his Adam’s apple rakes across the thin skin of his neck. Vegeta tenses under your hands, but you continue your ministrations despite it all. You are wrapping gauze around his bicep when he asks why you’d be thinking about him. If you weren’t so distracted by the sinew of his muscle, you’d be sure that he’s nervous. 

“I’m imagining you on Planet Sadalla, or Planet Vegeta. You, as a king, with your tail.” You lick your lips and refuse to meet his eyes, you can’t handle the intensity now. A blush brings heat to your cheeks, “I think you’d have made a wonderful king, a great leader. You have honor and pride and you know your way around an enemy. I’m angry at Frieza for taking that from you; I wish I could punch him in his smug, alien face.”

A chuckle catches you off guard. You turn your head to look at him, a smile gracing his face. It’s strange, new. You want to cup his cheek with your palm and take in every curvature of his face, but you know better. 

“Frieza would demolish you, little earth woman,” Vegeta cackles. His palm presses to your thigh where it’s straddling the bed next to his own body, and you feel a wave of heat and electricity spark in your veins. His eyes are hooded when he looks up at you, “I appreciate your desires, nonetheless.”

You grit your teeth for a moment as you contemplate speaking up again. Whatever emboldened you before is back at it, and when you say your next words, you confuse the Saiyan prince even more: “I hate what the world has put you through, Vegeta. You’ve been enslaved, murdered, stolen from your home, lied to, and manipulated. I wish I were strong enough to become everyone of your oppressors nightmares, but I know I’m not.”

“I don’t need your-” 

Something stops Vegeta mid-sentence.

He clears his throat and starts again: “Would you like to train with me?”

“Wh-” You drop the bandage in your hand and it rolls around on the floor until it’s nothing but a cardboard tube. You tilt your head and he chuckles at the sight, “You look like a confused animal, earthling. Do you want to train or not?”

You swallow thickly and stumble over your words for a moment before agreeing. You pick at your cuticles when you speak again, “W-What would be the point? You’re so much stronger, I wouldn’t be a challenge for you at all.”

“Tch, nonsense,” Vegeta stands to his feet and flexes his hands into fists, feeling his way around the bandages there. “I trained with Kakarot, and he’s hardly more than a child in an overgrown Saiyan body.”

You shake your head. You can’t believe this. 

“Vegeta, I-”

“Do you want to, or do you not? I won’t offer again.”

-

It’s another hour before he has you pinned to the ground, knee between your legs and a palm pressed firmly to your throat. You claw at his arms but he pins your wrists above your head with a quick side swipe.

You kick him in the back with your free leg and cry out for mercy. He chuckles as he releases his hand from your neck, but does not remove himself from you. 

“You did well,” he tells you, brushing a stray lock of hair from where it was stuck with sweat against your cheek. Vegeta smirks, “You’ll be the strongest earthling in no time.”

You can’t help it when you laugh, “Vegeta, Krillin would take me out in one blow. You don’t have to lie to me, I know I’m a weakling.”

His thumb stops against your law and his eyes are like crystals when he glares down at you, “Don’t ever call yourself weak. You’re the strongest woman I know.”

The fact that he so gently left out “little earth” from before the “woman” bit does not go unnoticed by you. You take a chance and reach up to run your thumb over the pulsing muscle of his bicep. 

“Gah,” he squints and steps away from you, rolling his shoulders as he stands to his full height. He shakes his head and looks down at you, “That’s all for today.”

You squeeze your palms a few times to regain feeling, noticing the small splits and cuts there. You weren’t able to get hits on Vegeta, but you did manage to slam into the walls and floors and fighter-bots a few times. He must notice you looking at them because he asks, “Does the doctor need a doctor?”

You don’t want to admit that the gashes in your hands hurt as bad as they do because he just called you strong, so instead you nod your head in the slightest. The motion makes him chuckle and you like the sight of a smile on his face. 

He walks just ahead of you back to the med bay, his own bandages still fresh from the past few training sessions he’s held on his own. You find your way to one of the beds and sit a still as possible while he plucks different supplies from the cabinet. You think he’s going overboard - he’s got all kinds of things sitting on the counter now - but you dare not criticize him for fear of him possibly lashing out and you having to dress your wounds yourself. 

“Thank you,” you force yourself to say before the pain of stitching you up begins. You look up at him as he loiters over you, all bulk and muscle. It’s still a strange sight to see when the smallest of grins upturns the corners of his lips. 

“I couldn’t let you give yourself second-rate stitches,” he shrugs off your compliment, doling out a few anti-bacterial wipes to clean the blood and dirt off first. “If you get an infection, you won’t be able to train again.”

You nod and let him get to work. He slots himself between your knees and holds your palms more gingerly than you thought ever possible. You try your hardest not to wince when the antiseptic soaks into your open wounds, you know that Vegeta would take back what he said about you being the strongest woman he knows if he saw you squirming because of a little stinging pain.

“You can stop being so tense,” his voice is just as gentle as his touch and it startles you. You swear you hear a short bark of a laugh part his lips.

“I’m sorry.” You swallow the lump in your throat and try to relax your muscles. You swing your feet back and forth just enough to brush your thigh against his and the friction makes you both startle. 

Vegeta looks you in the eye, “Why are women always apologizing?”

You’re confused by his question until you realize that you did in fact apologize. Your cheeks burn and you feel your stomach flip, “I-uh, I don’t know.”

“Well, little woman,” he grabs for the cotton bandages to wrap your clean hands so they can heal. “You should stop apologizing. You have nothing to be sorry for, not with me.”

Vegeta turns his head and glances at your split lip before silently starting to clean it as well. His thumb brushes the pad of antiseptic over the cut and you hiss at the feeling. Surprisingly, he cradles your jaw in his palm and kneels down to look at your wound closer, never releasing the cotton pad from your lip.

You go to apologize, but he pushes the pad of his thumb against your parted lips, “Don’t.”

Your brow is raised and he answers your quiet question, “You were about to apologize. I already told you there’s no need.”

The lump in your throat grows with emotion and you let him continue his ministrations. He’s close to you and his Saiyan blood pumps hot in his veins, the skin of his that’s touching you making your body boil. You lean into his hand and he doesn’t rebuff you, so you stay there while he cleans your lip. 

“There,” he removes the cleansing pad from your lip and takes a half step back from you. Vegeta looks up at you and you’re suddenly aware of how close your faces are. If you were to lean forward and he weren’t to run away, you could kiss him soundly, despite the split on your lip.

It takes all of the courage in your body, but you grip him by the hem of his shirt and tug him down to kiss him square on the mouth. Vegeta lets a surprised gasp echo from the back of his throat and it turns something over in your belly. You let your fingers wander, the pads of your bandaged hands brush over the taut muscle of his abdomen. 

Vegeta’s hand is still on your jaw, his thumb just under the soft part of your chin. He holds you still, his other palm cupping your thigh as it inches up his side. You whimper as his teeth graze over your lip, splitting the wound again. His tongue touches the sensitive flesh and then he pulls away, his thumb finding the wound once again.

“I guess you’ll have to take a break from training, little woman,” Vegeta smirks, eyes tracking the movement of your pulse against your neck. He snickers, “You’re bleeding.”

“As if,” you curl closer to him, your ankles wrapped around his calves. “You just don’t want to have to face me again. Like I’d give you the satisfaction.”

The look on his face is one you can only describe as prideful.

-

“I’m only joining this stupid competition so I can kick Kakarot’s ass!” Vegeta growls, curling his hands to fists. “If we’re here for some silly reason other than the competition, I’m going to rip you all apart!”

Goku is standing in front of him, halo hovering over his head, and it’s like a billboard that displays all of the Saiyan prince’s inequities. The kai’s share their ideas and it only makes Vegeta’s blood boil.

A heat begins to pulse at the back of Vegeta’s head and he hears a voice, small and slithering like a tendril of smoke. It threatens to take over his mind if the plume grows too large. 

I will give you the tools to overpower Goku and take back your Saiyan pride once more. 

Vegeta shakes his head, the voice pounding against the sensitive spots just behind his eyes. He swallows the lump growing in his throat and tries to ignore the temptation.

You will finally be able to surpass the lower-class Saiyan and prove that you are the almighty Prince Vegeta!

A searing starts on Vegeta’s forehead and he doubles over in pain. He screams, attracting the eyes of those around him. 

I will help rid you of all your possessions that are holding you back! You will be the mightiest warrior! 

“Vegeta!”

He turns his eyes to see you in the bleachers, your hands cupped around your mouth as you shout out to him. 

The way tears sit in your eyes makes his heart clench in his chest, but the burning keeps coming. The cloud of smoke is burning just behind his eyes, clouding his mind until it hurts to keep his eyelids open.

Your steps are quick as you rush down the bleachers, pushing past security. He can sense your energy as you come closer, and the closeness of it pulls him from his fog. He winces as he looks up at you, falling down to his knees as the writhing pain continues. 

“What is going on?” you ask him, mirroring his position. You shake your head, “Hey, talk to me.”

“Get away from me, you foul woman!” Vegeta snaps.

You can see the tears in his eyes, and you know that there is something sly afoot. You run your hands over his shoulders and up his neck to cradle his jaw, “Stop this. What’s happening?”

Vegeta winces, “I-I said to get away.”

You notice there is a symbol pulsing red on his forehead - it looks similar to the letter “m”. You brush your thumb over the spot and Vegeta whimpers in pain. 

“I need to beat Kakarot,” he murmurs, blood trickling from his nose at the struggle. “I am sick and tired of these earthly tendencies I’ve picked up. I’ve forgotten what it means to be a proud Saiyan!”

You tilt his chin upward and he looks you in the eyes and you can see that there is some horrible internal battle that he’s going through. You’re not sure if you can do anything to help him.

“Vegeta,” you whisper, your knees digging into the dirt. “I’m not sure who is trying to overpower you, but you’re so much stronger than this. You don’t need anyone else’s help to pass Goku’s power level. You can do it on your own!”

You palm his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. His eyes are dull and you feel his spirit fading as the mark on his forehead grows more opaque.

“I don’t need you,” he grits the words between his teeth like they hurt. Blood trickles down his nose as he continues fighting. His palms dig into the dirt, his Super Saiyan form threatening to break through. “I don’t need you!”

You try not to take it personally - he’s going through something and you must be a part of it. You swallow your pride and force your tears to stay locked away, “Vegeta. I can feel some negative energy. Please, tell me what’s going on.”

She does not know what it means to be a proud warrior. She is but a mortal! Get rid of her, she is the problem. She has made you weak, she has softened you. She is what is holding you back from becoming a true Saiyan warrior!

“You’re the issue,” he grumbles, looking you in the eye. His eyes glow blue and the aura around him starts to shine golden and you know that Super Saiyan is on the way. “You’ve made me weak, you frail, pathetic earthling! I’ve grown too comfortable here, too complacent. I’m a pathetic Saiyan - I should be proud! I should be formidable! Instead, I’ve become satiated. I’ve lost my drive!”

A resounding SLAP can be heard across the entire courtyard. 

Vegeta’s cheek is bright red and your hand is ready to come back around for another smack. Your lip is trembling but you force yourself to speak, “Your doubt in this moment is what’s making you pathetic, Vegeta.”

His jaw goes slack and he tries to formulate a response but you notice the dark symbol on his forehead is beginning to fade just slightly. 

“You having something to fight for makes you that much more powerful. When you have nothing to lose but yourself, it’s easy to fall, it’s easy to take a loss because it doesn’t matter.” You coddle his cheek, feeling horrible for the action but knowing it was necessary nonetheless. You lick your lips and feel your voice growing heavy, “Whatever this is that’s tempting you to break away from the path you’re going down, it’s lying to you. It’s manipulating you.”

“How dare you!” Vegeta’s brows are raised, eyes wild, “How dare you insinuate that I, the mighty Prince Vegeta, can be manipulated!?”

Your lip quivers, “Go on, then,” you shrug, falling back on your heels, “make it easy. Say I never mattered to you.”

Flashes of memories burn behind your eyelids. Moments of lips and hands and skin. Moments of secrets and truths and laughs. Moments where you thought the feelings blossoming between the two of you could mount to something much more permanent.

“I-” Vegeta’s voice is caught in his throat, his fingers shaking at his sides. 

He’s looking down at you and trying to beat out the cloud in his mind, the voice that’s telling him how you really shouldn’t be important. He can’t help but feel that it’s all lies - but if it’s lies, then why does it feel so right? 

That’s right, Vegeta. Let go of her. Let go of your attachment. I can make you powerful, but you have to let go.

“Listen to me, Vegeta,” you pull at his cheeks again, forcing his gaze to fall on you. You run your hands against his face and push his hair back out of his eyes, “I don’t know who is on the other side of this, but don’t let them win. You’re the strongest, smartest, and most capable fighter I know. You can beat this!”

Vegeta grips his hands in his hair and squeezes his eyes shut, letting out a feral scream. Tears surge down his cheeks and he starts talking in an ancient language that you don’t understand, and to someone that you cannot see. 

The symbol on his forehead glows bright red before fading away. 

He releases a puff of breath through his mouth before falling to the ground, the exertion from the internal struggle wearing out his body and mind. 

You catch him against your own body, resting his head in your lap, “C’mon,” you look up at the others, “I’m going to take him back to Capsule. It looks like you guys have a fight to win.”

-

When Vegeta awakens, he’s surprised to find you curled up in a chair with a small scrap of a blanket covering only half of your body. There are gentle snores rumbling in your chest and the Saiyan finds himself grinning at the sound. 

“Hmm,” you murmur as you readjust, your eyes opening just enough to check on him. Once you’ve realized that he’s awake, you leave your eyelids cracked so you can keep a closer watch on him. 

“You stayed,” Vegeta manages. He doesn’t reach out to grasp for you - he doesn’t feel like he has the right. Not after what he said at the arena earlier. He never has really deserved you, but now he knows that you should run far away from him. 

You nod and tuck the blanket up under your chin, “Yes, of course. Someone had to make sure you didn’t try for world domination in your sleep. You were under some heavy medicine.”

“I’m so sorry,” he blurts.

You’ve never heard Vegeta apologize for anything, ever. 

Your body is moving before your mind can comprehend. You’re climbing into his hospital bed, holding onto your scarce blanket as to not totally invade his space. You tuck yourself into his side and take a deep breath.

“You were being controlled by a wizard, I know that now.” You brush your thumb against the bulging muscle of his bicep. “I’m so sorry, Vegeta. I just want you to have some peace.”

He turns, much to your surprise, and envelopes you in his arms. Your ankles cross and you hold back tears at the thought of what he was going through silently. You feel the warmth of his kiss against the top of your head, “I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I didn’t mean them. I-I was...frightened.”

You tilt your head upward, the corner of your mouth grazing his jaw, “I know. I can’t even imagine.”

Vegeta swallows and brushes his thumb over the shell of your ear, lingering against the corner of your jaw. He smiles, “You got me through it. He was trying to use you against me, to tell me that you were the reason I was weakening. And yet, knowing that it was you trying to talk me out of it was the very thing that convinced me to break out of the wizard’s control and come back to my senses.”

“I-I,” you take a short breath, unsure if you want to make your admission out loud. Instead, you back pedal, “You’re important to me, Vegeta. I’m so glad you’re safe.”

He tilts your head upward and you feel his lips before you can blurt out anything else emotional. Vegeta’s palm stays against your neck, so he can feel your pulse. For some reason he needs to be sure that you’re real and that you’re safe. 

“You foul woman,” he murmurs against your lips, and you can feel the smirk in his voice. “How dare you make me fall in love with you?”

You smile in return, your body melting as he holds you close. You shrug, running your thumb over his collarbones. “I hope that won’t be a problem, Prince Vegeta?”

His eyes turn to dark, crystalline orbs that take in your every minuscule movement. Vegeta’s breath hitches, “No, little woman.” He presses a warm kiss to your lips, biting down on your lower lip with his sharp canine teeth. 

“I don’t think it will.”

a/n: I HOPE THAT YOU LOVED IT. FEEL FREE TO REQUEST MORE! SORRY TO THOSE WHO HATE ME WRITING THIS WAY BUT IDC I LOVE IT AND I’M WATCHING SUPER RIGHT NOW AND IT’S GOT ME IN MY FEELS FOR GEETS.

[woodentranscripts]

Season 1 Episode 1 The Bane of Rudyard

It's the worst day of Rudyard's life when new competitor Eric Chapman arrives on Piffling and becomes an immediate sensation.

Written by David K. Barnes

EPISODE ONE: THE BANE OF RUDYARD

[narration from Madeleine]

Now, Hidden in the English Channel is an island called Piffling. On the island is a village - Piffling Vale - and the village has a square, and the square has this lovely little antique shop but opposite the antique shop is a funeral home which is where much of this chronicle will be set, I’m afraid. You see, I want to tell you all about a man named Rudyard Funn. He owns the funeral parlour, he’s responsible for all the funerals in Piffling Vale and today, he experienced what was undoubtedly the worst day of his life. Which was probably long overdue.

 [funky intro music]

 REV: We gather here today to celebrate the life of Stanley Carmichael, who was taken from us only five days ago   

 He continues

[narration] It all began with a funeral, the antique dealer Stanley Carmichael, whose shop was immediately opposite Rudyard’s premises, had led a life of peace and ordered calm of eighty nine years… and had subsequently crushed to death by a granite sundial. 

 REV: I confess I never actually bought anything from him. His prices have been quite steep actually, though I did have my eye on that sundial. I might still be tempted if it came down in price, hint hint. (laughs)

 [narration] Stanley’s relatives pricked up their ears at the prospect of getting something for that granite sundial. Whilst nearby, his eyes sunken, his skin pale and drawn: stood Rudyard, looking at his watch and wishing strongly that the reverend wasn't an agnostic.

REV: … and undoubtedly looking down at us from his place with God. Unless you don't believe in that sort of thing - which I won’t hold against you, mind you God probably will. Unless he doesn’t exist, in which case he won’t even have anything to complain about, really. 

RUDYARD: (clears throat) Reverend. 

REV: Sorry, did somebody say -

 RUDYARD: Reverend. REV: Oh hello Rudyard- RUDYARD: You’re rambling. REV: Sorry? RUDYARD: You’re rambling again REV: Oh God, am I?

RUDYARD: Yes! REV: I’m so sorry, where was I? RUDYARD: His spirit looking down at us from his place- REV: OH! From his place with God, yes, yes, thank you, right, right, I’ve err Looking down at us from his place with umm… no. No, actually, I don't suppose we could have a quick show of hands? RUDYARD: No! No! Now come on! REV: If you believe in God, could you put your hands up, can we all do that? Put your hands up if you believe, ughh right, right err bout half. Um so! Ah yeah. What I might do is do the service twice- RUDYARD: We don't have time! 

 REV: Once with God in it and the other without. RUDYARD: No! We’re overrunning. REV: Oh! But I thought I might read out a few psalms RUDYARD: Which ones? REV: I don’t mind, I'll be happy to take requests if anyone’s got any favourites? RUDYARD: Nononono. We’re sixteen minutes behind schedule, nearly seventeen. Georgie? (snaps finders) Wake up! GEORGIE: (groans) I don’t want to RUDYARD: We need the coffin in the ground. Now. GEORGIE: Sir, it’s a very heavy coffin RUDYARD: What’s your point? GEORGIE: I’m the only pallbearer RUDYARD: Oh stop moaning, put your back into it! GEORGIE: Ughh Fine! REV: Do we have time for some funny anecdotes? RUDYARD: We’re late as it is and it’s pissing it down - so no. PERSON 1: He’s ruining everything! RUDYARD: There you are reverend, you’re losing them REV: Oh! I thought they were rather getting into it! PERSON 2: Not him, you! RUDYARD: Me? PERSON 3: You horrid little man, stop hurrying things along!

 RUDYARD: Don’t you know what a schedule is? PERSON 3: So rude! RUDYARD: This isn’t my only gig today, you know. I’ve got Mr Ascii to measure up in half an hour! PERSON 1: He’s not dead! RUDYARD: Well he doesn’t look healthy, though, does he? PERSON 3: Stop talking we’re trying to honour Stanley! RUDYARD: Honour Stanley! You didn’t even like him. PERSON 3: How dare you! RUDYARD: I noticed in the shop you slipped that carriage clock down your blouse when you thought no one was looking! (gasps) RUDYARD: And the dressing table! (even more gasps) PERSON 2: I knew it! PERSON 3: Shut up! Bill swiped the portrait of Ova Broughn PERSON 2: Bill! I wanted that portrait! PERSON 1: Well you can’t have it! (gasps) PERSON 1: I’m sorry Jerry, I just lost control, OW REV: Now come, come everyone. Stay calm… Jerry put that shovel down! RUDYARD: Alright, Georgie, get the body in the ground GEORGIE: Sir, They’re not very happy RUDYARD: Of course they don’t look happy, it’s a funeral. Off you go! (she grunts) [narration] The service completed, Rudyard Funn and Georgie Crusoe fled the cemetery and hurried back to the funeral home. Established by local character and serial bigamist Gilbert Funn in the fifteenth century, Funn Funerals have always maintained a solid reputation for being the only funeral home on the island. RUDYARD: (grunts) What it could be a good thing back there, you saw Stanley’s widow GEORGIE: That sad old lady RUDYARD: Yes, when she took a swing at her son in law I think she fell into the grave instead. I don’t know if it was fatal but it looked promising to me GEORGIE: Do you think we’d be able to have a quiet funeral RUDYARD: Asking for the impossible never helped anyone GEORGIE: People smiling, swapping happy memories, I’m not sure every funeral should end with violent conflict RUDYARD: Georgie, once you’ve been here a few more months you’ll realise all funerals always end in bloodshed, there's very little you or I can do about it. Now go and get the measuring kit I want to go to Mr Ascii’s and see if he’s dead yet! GEORGIE: Are you sure it’s worth the bother? RUDYARD: I’ve gone round everyday for the last six weeks, I’m not giving up now, Hop to it! GEORGIE: yes sir~ RUDYARD: Get me a dry jacket, and another hat! Where’s Antigone? Antigone! Now look here, yes. Stanley’s widow! Ha I knew it! No, nothing sorry. We can fit her in a six o clock, I’ll leave her in the ground for the moment, it’ll save time in the long run. No, she shouldn’t be brawling at her age. Of course I could fancy my chances against her, Im thirty-five, she was eighty-two see you at six. Georgie! We’ve got a full day ahead of us! Where’s Antigone? GEORGIE: Try the mortuary! RUDYARD: Are you in the mortuary? Antigone? Antigone? Are you in the mortuary? Antigone? Antigone are you in the- ANTIGONE: What?! RUDYARD: I’m back. ANTIGONE: I’d rather look at the corpses. RUDYARD: Oh for- ANTIGONE: Does rest in peace mean nothing to you?! RUDYARD: Well I don’t hear the guests complaining. Room for another? ANTIGONE: Is it Mr Ascii RUDYARD: Not yet, this ones a bonus! [narration] That’s Antigone, Rudyard’s twin sister, despite actually being born one week afterwards. The poor dear had been diagnosed with depression within twenty minutes of being born - a world record which gave her no consolation at all. ANTIGONE: So how was it today? RUDYARD: Err the vicar’s getting worse and of course it was raining and inevitably it ended with a punchup over a portrait of Eva Broughn. But personally I found it all very moving ANTIGONE: Brilliant, so that's another grieving widow we’re going to have to apologise to RUDYARD: No we won't. ANTIGONE: Why not?! RUDYARD: She fell into the grave and died before I left! ANTIGONE: She what?! RUDYARD: It’s been a very productive morning ANTIGONE: You really have no concept of what good business is, do you? RUDYARD: I’d love to disagree with you and Oh! I’m doing it right now ANTIGONE: I’ve been in the mortuary all morning and do you know what I’ve been up to! RUDYARD: Oh sure I don’t want to know ANTIGONE: I’ve spent the past five hours mixing formaldehyde and methanol with clementine and a tiny, tiny dash of cinnamon. That’s what I’ve been doing for five hours! RUDYARD: Should I ask why? ANTIGONE: To try to make our embalming fluid smell nicer! So the bodies will smell nicer! Because have you really ever smelt a body, Rudyard? RUDYARD: Why do we still talk to each other? ANTIGONE: Now! Thanks to me, they’ll smell brighter, fresher, not like bodies at all. That’s the sort of service I’m striving for, Rudyard. I want them to forget that the body is a body. RUDYARD: Yes that’ll work, our Grandad’s dead but don’t worry because he smells like christmas! ANTIGONE: It’s attention to detail Rudyard! It’s how we run a business, you would know! RUDYARD: We get the body in the coffin in the ground on time GEORGIE: Sir, your other jackets been eaten by moths - I saw the whole thing. RUDYARD: Not now, Georgie, how long did it take for the coffin to get to the ground this morning? GEORGIE: A couple of seconds? RUDYARD: Now that’s a good service! GEORGIE: Because I dropped it RUDYARD: But it got where it needed to be and that’s what they pay us for. ANTIGONE: Rudyard, for the very last time! They don't want chaos! They don’t want stress and they don’t want a relative dead before the first is even been buried! RUDYARD: How do you know what they want?! ANTIGONE: In the name of sanity, Rudyard - RUDYARD: I’ve got a very busy day ahead of , so just get back into the mortuary CHAPMAN: Hello! RUDYARD: Yes? CHAPMAN: Eric, Eric Chapman. I’m new, to the place! Just arrived! GEORGIE: Good morning RUDYARD: Georgie, leave it to the professionals. Good morning. We’ve not met. CHAPMAN: No, because I’m new, to the place RUDYARD: You don't have to brag about it! I have met people before CHAPMAN: You’re Mr Rudyard Funn, of Funn Funerals? RUDYARD: Correct CHAPMAN: Terrific name, suppose you put the fun in funerals RUDYARD: No, of course we don’t, that’s obscene CHAPMAN: Sure, never mind

ANTIGONE: Hello Mr Chapman CHAPMAN: OH! Jesus ANTIGONE: Is this too close? CHAPMAN: A little bit! ANTIGONE: Sorry! CHAPMAN: No, don’t mention it! ANTIGONE: Sorry, I’m Antigone, sorry pleased to meet you. CHAPMAN: Err, likewise call me Eric. Are you in charge? ANTIGONE: I’m the mortician, where the action is, CHAPMAN: I bet there’s not much you don’t know about the body, Antigone? ANTIGONE: That sounded like a double meaning GEORGIE: It’s called flirting ANTIGONE: Oh gosh, is it? CHAPMAN: Well, now ANTIGONE: It’s smashing, do it again, have I made it awkward? DAMN RUDYARD: I haven’t got all day! CHAPMAN: Yes so, Rudyard, Antigone and GEORGIE: Georgie, Hi ANTIGONE: That’s enough! CHAPMAN: I saw you at the funeral, didn’t I GEORGIE: Yeah, helping out, it’s a job RUDYARD: Georgie, don’t give away company secrets GEORGIE: I was only - ANTIGONE: Hang on, you were at the funeral this morning? CHAPMAN: Yes I was RUDYARD: And I’m sure you’re impressed with what you saw there Mr Chapman but we really are frightfully CHAPMAN: Actually I wasn’t entirely sure it came off RUDYARD: I’m sorry? CHAPMAN: For a start it got a little violent didn’t it? RUDYARD: Did you think so? CHAPMAN: At the end yes RUDYARD: I’m not sure what funeral you were watching, Mr Chapman but all I saw was good clean mourning CHAPMAN: Didn’t someone die? RUDYARD: A very convenient place for it to happen, Georgie GEORGIE: I’m not RUDYARD: There you go, don’t let us keep you Mr Chapman CHAPMAN: And I thought there could have been a greater attention to detail. Stop me if I’m getting too critical. RUDYARD: Okay I’ll stop you there ANTIGONE: Shut up, carry on Mr Chapman CHAPMAN: Eric ANTIGONE: Gosh CHAPMAN: I have to say it was a little bit grim, I mean it’s a funeral it’s hardly party time but even so these occasions should be a celebration of life rather than going on about death, do you know what I mean? RUDYARD: Nope CHAPMAN: Ah, I don’t want to be made more miserable and I want to remember those happy magnificent memories, I want a cheerful atmosphere, bright flowers, music, funny recolations ANTIGONE: Sweeter smelling fluids CHAPMAN: Exactly, fluids? ANTIGONE: I think they’re very important. CHAPMAN: Sure thing. That's what I mean! Sorting out those little details, pushing the boat out, or the hearse out, well that's just my two cents for what it’s worth RUDYARD: Well, I don’t know what planet you live on, Mr Chapman, but - ANTIGONE: Thank you! We’ll bear those things in mind, won’t we Rudyard. RUDYARD: remind me- ANTIGONE: Smashing! CHAPMAN: Anyway, I thought I’d swing by ANTIGONE: Oh any time! CHAPMAN: Thank you, ANTIGONE: Any time at all CHAPMAN: Yes, I was just swinging by to see the competition. RUDYARD: Competition? CHAPMAN: Yes. ANTIGONE: You mean like a raffle? CHAPMAN: Not exactly RUDYARD: I hate raffles CHAPMAN: That’s a strange thing to hate. I meant you lot! Er, Funn Funerals the local competition… In funerals RUDYARD: You’re an undertaker. CHAPMAN: Well clients prefer funeral director ANTIGONE: You’re just visiting though?! CHAPMAN: No, I live here now, I’m setting myself up ANTIGONE: Your own funeral home? CHAPMAN: yeah, Chapmans, not quite as catchy as Funn Funerals but there we are ANTIGONE: Where are you going to be? CHAPMAN: You know the antique dealer you just buried, Stanley Carmichael? I’m just taking over his premises. ANTIGONE: Just across the square! CHAPMAN: That’s right! Opposite you actually, we’ll probably see a lot of each other, compare notes, swap stories, down the pub - mine’s a light ale by the way. Err did someone die in here? RUDYARD: Goodbye Chapman. CHAPMAN: Oh sure! Glad to meet you Rudyard, Antigone ANTIGONE: Chapman. CHAPMAN: Georgie GEORGIE: See you later ANTIGONE: That’s enough! CAPMAN: Okay. (exhales) Enjoy yourselves! Ah! The sun’s come out! RUDYARD: If he thinks I’m going to buy him a light ale, he’s very much mistaken. ANTIGONE: Oh shut up Rudyard! This is actually very serious. GEORGIE: He seemed fine ANTIGONE: No he didn’t, Georgie, coming over here waving his credentials in our faces, giving us feedback, my god! GEORGIE: I thought you liked him? ANTIGONE: Liked him?! Liked him?! GEORGIE: Yeah! You were talking about fluids and everything! ANTIGONE: That’s professional chit-chat for god’s sake, do you think I like gorgeous handsome men, do you? Exactly, it’s disgusting, it’s disgusting RUDYARD: I can’t think of a scenario where I would buy someone a light ale ANTIGONE: Rudyard, focus! He is serious competition RUDYARD: Him? Competition? Were you listening to the man? GEORGIE: No she wasn’t, She was gazing into his eyes ANTIGONE: Georgina! Go and make some tea. GEORGIE: We haven’t got a kettle ANTIGONE: Buy one. GEORGIE: Fine ANTIGONE: Rudyard, we’re finished, I think I’ll take a cyanide capsule RUDYARD: We are not finished, we’re an established firm, going back centuries! Nobody round here is going to book a funeral with a complete stranger. ANTIGONE: Rudyard! Look At His Shop! RUDYARD: What is it? ANTIGONE: He’s already changed the sign! ‘Chapman’s’ Just like he said. RUDYARD: I’ll admit he’s working quickly. ANTIGONE: That does it. You’ve got to see the mayor, tell him this village isn’t big enough for two funeral homes! RUDYARD: That’s not a bad idea actually, I’ll see him now. (leaves) One day I’ll find an umbrella. [narration] Rudyard scuttled across the village square and up the step leading to Piffling Hall. He was shown into the office of the Right Honourable Mayor Desmond Desmond. A man who thought the most wonderful words in the english language were “I’m sure it’s going to be fine!” SECRETARY: Mr Rudyard Funn to see you sir. MAYOR: Oh, Thank you Margery RUDYARD: Your worship, I really am most desperately sorry to- where are you? MAYOR: Down here, Rudyard, Under the desk. RUDYARD: Why? MAYOR: Ohh, just sitting here, you know. Doing a bit of thinking, big world out there RUDYARD: Yes, er I came to ask you- MAYOR: Rudyard, do you know what the difference is between a village and a town. RUDYARD: Well er, a town has a greater area, MAYOR: Yes? RUDYARD: Higher population, more amenities MAYOR: Ah, amenities, yes RUDYARD: A mayor! MAYOR: oh yes RUDYARD: I actually came to- MAYOR: We have to do something, Rudyard, with our lives haven’t we Rudyard? Don’t you think? RUDYARD: Yes! MAYOR: I look at my seal of office sometimes and all my envelopes, and I read my name, and have I done enough I ask myself, am I even Right Honourable because I don’t feel it. RUDYARD: Well, to call yourself Right Honourable you have to be a judge or a privy counsellor MAYOR: Really? I’m going to change all my stationary now! You see, this is the thing I’m talking about! What have I earned? What have I achieved? God knows we have to try and justify ourselves, somehow. RUDYARD: mhm, I don’t like the man across the road from me. MAYOR: Exactly, and then what with my sister passing the bucket last week, oh top drawer send off you chaps gave her by the way. RUDYARD: Oh, thank you! MAYOR: Oh, pity it rained RUDYARD: Yes well MAYOR: Can’t help that, or the grounds subsidence, still we all laughed seeing her flopping about like that did we- anyway, Do you know what I’ve decided to do, Rudyard? I am going to turn this village into a town. That’s what I’m going to do. I mean things must expand, mustn’t they? RUDYARD: Probably? MAYOR: Do you think so? Good! She used to say terrible things to me, my sister RUDYARD: I’ve got a problem actually MAYOR: Have you? Well can I help, cause I really like to be useful RUDYARD: I think you can be, you see, your worship, there’s this man. MAYOR: He’s not worth it Rudyard. RUDYARD: Yes. What? No I mean, this man is opening a new funeral home directly across the road from mine. MAYOR: Is that a problem? RUDYARD: We can’t have two funeral homes can’t we? MAYOR: Can’t we, why not RUDYARD: Well it’d be ridiculous! MAYOR: I don’t was to look ridiculous! RUDYARD: Exactly! If we have two funeral homes, why not two fire stations, two hospitals, two mayors! MAYOR: Two mayors!?! Could it really get that far? RUDYARD: I would hate to speculate MAYOR: Help me up, would you? Yes, I think we should stab this in the bud immediately. Thank you Rudyard. RUDYARD: Thank you your worship! MAYOR: Gets me out the office anyway RUDYARD: Well from under the desk. MAYOR: We won't talk about that. Margery, cancel my appointments for today SECRETARY: There aren’t any MAYOR: Thank you! Off we go, Rudyard [narration] Upon arriving at Chapman’s, Rudyard and the - until recently Right Honourable Mayor Desmond Desmond discovered that the place was about ready to be opened! And it wasn’t yet even midday! Rudyard braced himself for a sinister journey into the unknown MAYOR: Wasn’t this place an antique shop a few hours ago? RUDYARD: I don’t understand how he has managed to do all this?! MAYOR: Bit flash isn’t it, all these happy colours, not a patch on your set up, look not a speck of dust anywhere! RUDYARD: I mean, he arrived this morning! MAYOR: It must be said though, these sofas are really comfy! Is that a coffee machine? RUDYARD: Yes? MAYOR: Does your place have one of those? RUDYARD: We bought a kettle only half an hour ago CHAPMAN: Hi, sorry to keep you waiting as you can imagine, it’s all go here! RUDYARD: Is that a lift?! CHAPMAN: Mr Mayor, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Eric Chapman, there are some chocolate truffles in the bowl there, help yourself. Would you like the tour, I’d love to show you around, it’s still not quite finished MAYOR: Perhaps another time, Mr Chapman RUDYARD: You’ve got a lift?! MAYOR: Umm, I don’t know quite how to say this but CHAPMAN: How to say what, Mr Mayor? MAYOR: Well, it’s very naughty of you to have done this, is it? CHAPMAN: Is it? MAYOR: Oh without permission I mean CHAPMAN: But you gave me permission MAYOR: Did I? CHAPMAN: I mean before I came here, I was calling back and forth with your people and everything got sorted and err where are we, here we are, look, here’s your signature MAYOR: Yes, the smiley face in the ‘O’ well, it’s definitely mine! You must understand, I don't always read everything I’m given, I am usually kept very busy CHAPMAN: I’m sure, don’t worry about it MAYOR: What do you think? Rudyard? RUDYARD: That’s a really nice lift?!! CHAPMAN: Oh thanks Rudyard MAYOR: Yes, well, even with all this I mean, I am the mayor aren’t I and I have the perfect right to change my mind. CHAPMAN: Oh do you not want me here? MAYOR: No no no no! Not that but you see it’s just that well err, Rudyard? RUDYARD: Sorry? Yes er, Now Look Here CHAPMAN: Yes? RUDYARD: We’ve already got a funeral home MAYOR: Exactly! We’ve already got one and will the best will in the world we can’t have two funeral homes, can we? CHAPMAN: Why? MAYOR: Because, well, then you see, we’d need apparently have to have two hospitals you see? CHAPMAN: That’s a great idea MAYOR: Is it? Oh well good, I’d get onto that! BUT No, nevertheless the village just can’t sustain two funeral homes can it? CHAPMAN: You could be right there MAYOR: Could I? RUDYARD: Told you so CHAPMAN: But you know what could sustain two funeral homes? MAYOR: No? CHAPMAN: A town! MAYOR: A town? You say? RUDYARD: Hmm No! No- CHAPMAN: Now don’t get me wrong, this is a great village but I think it’s going to be an even greater town! And I want to help you do that in the only way I can: with a funeral home. MAYOR: Can I ask you a question? CHAPMAN: Go for it MAYOR: If we had two funeral homes would we need two mayors as well? CHAPMAN: No. That’s ridiculous MAYOR: Oh, excellent in that case I hereby pronounce this funeral home: open! RUDYARD: What? What are they doing there?! CHAPMAN: We’re taking advance orders, it’s just a service we provide. MAYOR: Well, I won’t take up any more of your time. Mr Chapman CHAPMAN: Oh please, Mr Mayor, It’s Eric MAYOR: Best of luck Eric, if you are ever at a loose end, do pop by the hall, sometimes we have movie nights! CHAPMAN: I’ll remember that and if you ever need our services it’s on the house. MAYOR: Tremendous, looking forward to it, now RUDYARD: Now, now hang on, we- MAYOR: Glad to have you here CHAPMAN: Mr Mayor MAYOR: No no no, call me Desmond! Ttfn CHAPMAN: Talk to you later, Desmond MAYOR: Should I leave the doors open? CHAPMAN: Oh, if you would, Rudyard I’m sorry I can’t stay and chat, can I get you anything. Oh I know what, make yourself a cup of coffee, I’ll better see to that queue eh? Enjoy yourself! Don’t forget the truffles! Good morning ladies and gentlemen, well afternoon now. Well, I’m delighted to say welcome to Chapman’s and remember: We put the fun in funerals RUDYARD: Chapman! [narration] After a coffee, and a couple of truffles, Rudyard stormed out, seething with resentment. He kicked a small dog and got bitten by its owner. Having gotten back to Funn Funerals, Rudyard sat down on a chair by the window and stared out across the road muttering out loud to his only real friend in the world RUDYARD: (muttering) It’s only a funeral home who the hell do they think they are eh? (squeaks) RUDYARD: Exactly, I give him a week, alright maybe two.. Ah he might have gold blend and lounge music but you can’t put a glass on the mechanics. We get the body in the coffin in the ground on time, That’s what it's about, I bet his corpses don't smell of cinnamon. Yeah, we’ll see who runs this village. ANTIGONE: Rudyard you’re talking to that mouse again aren’t you? RUDYARD: Her name is Madeleine ANTIGONE: It’s not normal! RUDYARD: Antigone, you spend twenty-three hours a day in the mortuary don’t try to tell me what’s normal. Off you go Madeleine, we’ll continue this later ANTIGONE: You haven’t moved all afternoon! RUDYARD: I don’t need to move, I’m plotting ANTIGONE: Where’s Georgie? RUDYARD: Day off, no work, plotting. ANTIGONE: Rudyard, for the first time in our lives we actually have competition which means we could really do with having some friends so could you get out there and make some? RUDYARD: I’ll do it tomorrow ANTIGONE: Have you at least gone round to check on Mr Ascii RUDYARD: Who? ANTIGONE: Mr Ascii, the man we’ve been waiting to die for six weeks, because so help me I need to embalm somebody and it could quite easily be you RUDYARD: Look Mr Ascii’s immortal, he’ll never die so what’s the point about it. Now Look Here, Georgie? What? Right, I’ll see you there. Mr Ascii’s dead. ANTIGONE: Is he? RUDYARD: Yes. OH MY GOD MR ASCII’S DEAD! ANTIGONE: How?! RUDYARD: Heart attack, half an hour ago it’s all around the village, Antigone, I’m so happy! ANTIGONE: Took him long enough RUDYARD: Ahh He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead! ANTIGONE: Rudyard! Stop being happy and get over there now! RUDYARD: Sorry, yes, get over there, I’m gone. Rudyard is back in the game! … Rudyard is going to get wet! Have the mortuary ready! ANTIGONE: And Rudyard, don’t cock it up. [narration] Before you judge Rudyard too harshly at his delight at an old man’s demise, I should tell you that Mr Ascii was Rudyard’s old PE teacher at school so his delight is almost entirely justified. Rudyard met Georgie at Mr Ascii’s bijuu residence at five forty-five. GEORGIE: Okay, okay  RUDYARD: Georgie GEORIGIE: Sir? RUDYARD: Say it again for me won’t you, say it again GEORGIE: Alright, Mr Ascii’s dead but listen I’ve got- RUDYARD: Yeessssss, Get in there my son… whatever that means GEORGIE: Yeah I ought to say- RUDYARD: I’ve been looking forward to putting him in the ground, can’t mock me for losing the 200 metre dash now can you, Mr Ascii! GEORGIE: Before you get excited RUDYARD: Right yes, got to straighten up, think grave. How do I look? GEORGIE: Miserable RUDYARD: Great, let’s go GEORGIE: But sir, NURSE: Could we please have some quiet out here, oh it’s you, Mister Funn RUDYARD: Good afternoon nurse, Could please take this opportunity to convey my most prevermed(???) condolences NURSE: Thank you Mister Funn RUDYARD: I’m sure my apprentice Ms Crusoe, has already carried out our preliminary duties so I think in the interest of efficiency we should let the dog see the rabbit, if you’ll take me through NURSE: Well, This is actually rather embarrassing RUDYARD: Oh please don’t say it’s a false alarm! NURSE: In a sense,,, yes RUDYARD: Oh for, Georgie you said he was dead GEORGIE: He is dead RUDYARD: But, ugh, Nurse, one of us in this corridor is deeply confused and I’m beginning to believe it might be you NURSE: No? RUDYARD: I knew it, she’s mad, grab her Georgie. NURSE: I’m not mad! RUDYARD: That’s what a mad person would say, Georgie GEORGIE: Let’s do this CHAPMAN: Rudyard! Great to see you RUDYARD: Chapman! CHAPMAN: Busy afternoon, eh, hello Georgie GEORGIE: Hey, Eric RUDYARD: Stop flirting. Nurse, I demand this man be told to vacate this bijuu residence immediately CHAPMAN: Look, this is my bad, and I’ve really got to apologise for this one NURSE: Mr Ascii requested it! RUDYARD: He what? NURSE: With his final words he said he couldn’t bare to get buried by such a feeble little weed as Rudyard Funn CHAPMAN: Interesting man, he wanted to see my gold medals from the 200 metre dash, gotta say I wasn’t expecting business to kick off so quickly NURSE: You’re doing a most proper job Mr Chapman CHAPMAN: Thank you nurse, I think we’ll collect him first thing tomorrow. Anyway must run, good to see you Rudyard, Georgie. Enjoy yourselves! Ahh NURSE: What a charming man, I hear he’s still a bachelor RUDYARD: So am I.. NURSE: Yes well, hardly surprising is it? GEORGIE: Ahh well, can’t win em all eh sir? Sir, are you alright? RUDYARD: I am so… SIX O CLOCK GEORGIE: Six o clock? RUDYARD: Six o clock! The cemetery, Stanley’s widow, Stanley Carmichael’s widow in the cemetery at six o clock! GEORGIE: Oh yeah! I forgot about that! RUDYARD: What time is it? GEORGIE: About five to six but you’ll never get there. Sir?! Oh for god’s sake, Rudyard! Come back here you stupid. [narration] Rudyard raced down the cliff, past the trees and through the streets with speed that would have finally impressed Mr Ascii, had he not already been dead. His lungs aching for breath, his limbs trembling with the effort, Rudyard tumbled into the cemetery at exactly one minute past six. To discover… RUDYARD: It’s…. It’s all REV: Ahh, there you are Rudyard! RUDYARD: Reverend? What’s going on? REV: Well, I arrived to oversee the preliminaries on Mrs Carmichael’s err, transferal to a better world - if such a place exists - which i'm not certain about one way or the other, and I found that her family and friends had been gathered together already for the funeral. RUDYARD: For the funeral? REV: Since the deceased was already here, and sensibly dressed, he just got it done out of the way, young fella named Eric, got his own funeral practise I understand. I’m hearing marvelous things about it. He’s got a coffee machine! Led them all a couple of sing songs actually, even had my speech prepared for me! Very succinct it was, breezed through it all in no time. RUDYARD: Chapman… REV: Oh he also found a lake! Over there! I think we’re all going boating in a minute. He owns a boat you know RUDYARD: Chapman! REV: Anyway, I better get to be going back to it, we’re having jelly and ice cream, bags of fun. Goodbye, Rudyard! Or should I say: Enjoy yourself! RUDYARD: I see. I see. Well CHAPMAN: Hello Rudyard. RUDYARD: Oh. It’s. you. Did a fair job I hear, congratulations, don’t think it will always be like this they won’t hand it to you on a plate you know, they won’t do that. This is very much the exception. Oh what? What? You can talk can’t you? Say something? CHAPMAN: Rudyard. Have a nice evening. RUDYARD: What do you- What do you mean: have a nice evening? What do you mean by that remark, Chapman? What if I don’t want to have a nice evening? Eh? What if I Don’t? Chapman! What did you mean! Chapman! Chapman?! [narration] Today had been the worst day of Rudyard’s life, until tomorrow came along and topped it. I was there to jot it all down from first hand observation (and a little bit of gossip I picked up later) and of course, being his only real friend in the world, Rudyard tells me everything. My name is Madeleine - I’m going to be the first mouse to be a Sunday Times Best Seller, and I know for a fact that Rudyard want to revenge himself on Eric by well, we’ll burn that bridge when be come to it 

[saltiestdemonloves]

Washed Up Pt. 1

Siren!Reader x Bakugou

Warnings: None!

WC: 1.7k Words

A/N: Bakugou’s a pirate who gets lost at sea and stuck on an island that happens to be inhabited by a lone siren.

“WAIT!!” As Bakugou screams after his ship which rode wave after wave, disappearing further into the storm. He could hear the desperate calls of his friends before they too faded away. He was left, paddling desperately for the surface after wave after wave crashes over him, dragging him further into the depths of the ocean.

He chokes, breaching the surface again, looking around for something - anything to save him. “Fuck!” he screams, a towering wave crashing for him. He only managed to bring his hands over his face before he and it collide, and he loses consciousness.

He was floating, drifting, unattached from everything. Am I... dead? His energy was gone, he couldn’t even open his eyes. If this is heaven, he thinks, they got it wrong. Bakugou's back brushes against something soft before he’s pushed back against it harder, then the floating stops. His weight settles against the softness beneath him and he groans, feeling gravity's pull.

Finally, Bakugou’s eyes flutter open. He winces at the bright sun, squinting in its harsh light. Taking a deep breath, he widens his eyes and looks up at the bright blue sky, not a cloud in sight.

“Ugh,” he groans, barely having the strength to push himself up onto his elbows. Trying to blink away the burning in his eyes, Bakugou looks around, trying to see where he was.

Currently, he was laying propped up on the sandy shore of some beach. The water still splashing up onto him. He grimaces, twisting to look further around him, his skin was hot and felt like dry leather, threatening to tear. After seeing a line of trees and forest a few meters behind him, Bakugou’s strength disappears and he collapses back onto the sand. 

He was breathless, exhausted. I could fall asleep right here, he thinks. He might if he doesn’t get up. The thought of the tide pulling him back into the waters was the only thing keeping him from passing out.

Inhaling a deep breath, trying to find strength, Bakugou turns onto his front and pushes himself up shakily. Then he crawls forward, away from the ocean waters. Once he’s far enough away, he falls back down with a sigh. “Fuck the water,” he grumbles. Then everything goes black.

**

Bakugou’s eyes crack open just enough to get a blurry outline of someone’s feet standing beside him. His brows furrow slightly before his eyes shut again. Then he’s woken by the feeling of being dragged by his arms, hearing the soft grunts of effort as someone pulls him. He wakes again this time by being probed, someone's hands holding his shoulders and shaking him.

He makes a growling sound and weakly shoves at their hands. “Get off,” he slurs. His mouth feels dry, he’d kill for something to drink.

Just then, he feels something press against his lips and a cool liquid spill into his mouth. He pulls back in surprise, eyes widening, but the sweetness reaches his tastebud and automatically he opens his mouth again to receive more.

“It’s medicine,” he hears, the person’s voice warbled by his lack of focus. But the moment the notes of their voice reach his ears, he felt at ease.

“‘S good,” he mumbles.

“Yes,” they agree, the voice becomes clearer and clearer. 

He blinks and forces his eyes to focus on the visage before him. A girl - his age he thinks - kneeling in front of him, a handmade cup in her hands. She looked... different. Her eyes were slightly rounder and larger than a normal person’s. When she opened her mouth to urge him to drink more, he saw razor-sharp teeth.

Bakugou exhales sharply and shoves her hands away, “Get away!”

The girl stands immediately, backing away. A flash of hurt crosses her expression. “I will not...” she blinks and looks at him nervously, “I will not harm you.”

Bakugou was panting, his heart pounding rapidly in his chest. “I don’t believe you,” he says sharply.

“I’m sorry that you feel that way,” she says softly. 

“You’re... you’re a...” Bakugou squints, “You’re a harpy, aren’t you?” He looks around, now scanning his surroundings, “Where’s the rest of your - what is it - flock?” They were in some sort of cave, he thinks.

Her eyes drop and she puts the cup aside on a makeshift table, “No, and I’m alone, I am not a part of any “flock” as you say.”

“Why?”

“Because I am,” she answers, stepping away. “I will get you some food, you need it. Please drink the rest of your medicine, you have a fever.”

“Don’t you dare leave me here,” Bakugou growls, standing on his feet shakily.

The girl stops, turning to stare at him with curious eyes. “I’ll be right back,” she promises. “Please, sit and rest.”

“Why are you helping me?”

“It’s been a... long time since I’ve seen another person.”

“But you’re not a person,” he snips. “You’re a beast.”

She smiles, giving him a grin that should chill him to the bone, but came off friendly, “Do I look beastly to you?”

“Looks can be deceiving,” Bakugou glares.

“We’ll see,” she replies, turning away towards a curtained exit. “I’ll be back with your food. Rest and drink your medicine.”

Despite Bakugou’s intense urge to spite the humanoid creature and get up, his body was weak and he collapsed back onto what he discovers to be a small bed made up of all sorts of blankets and clothes. His mouth felt dry and his eyes drift to the cup that the - what he believes to be a harpy - had left nearby on the bedside table. 

Glancing back up to where she had left, Bakugou stretches forward and downs the rest of the contents inside in one gulp. He gives a satisfied sigh afterward and a wave of sleepiness washes over him for a moment.

When the girl returns, she finds Bakugou slumped back in the bed she’d made, eyelids droopy with post medicine haze. She smiles at the sight and quietly steps forward, setting down the bowl of stew that she’d prepared.

She kneels back down in front of Bakugou and tilts her head. He must be really tired because he doesn’t even realize that he’s looking right at her. Bakugou’s face was red with sunburn, some parts of his skin blistering. She wonders how painful it must be. She wonders where he came from.

“Hm.” The girl reaches forward to softly brush the back of her knuckles against his forehead, then his cheeks. He flinches, eyes coming back into focus. He stiffens, like before, and pushes himself back against the stone wall.

“What are you-”

“I’m just checking your fever,” she says quickly, standing back up. “You were out there for a while, I think.” She takes the bowl and hands it to him, “Here, it’s fish stew. It’s hearty.”

“Why are you helping me?” demands, Bakugou, untrustworthy of this stranger's intentions. “How do I know that you’re not trying to fatten me up so you can eat me.”

The girl laughs, shaking her head, “I don’t care for people much if I’m honest. Fish and other types of small things feed me just fine.”

“So you could eat me if you wanted?”

“If I desired it, yes.” Her amused smile softens and she tries again to hand the bowl to him, “Please, eat. You need it.”

Reluctantly, Bakugou takes the bowl and begins spooning the stew in his mouth. He was surprised to find that it was delicious. Better than anything he’s had in a long time. He moans out and begins shoveling it into his mouth, barely taking the time to chew the bits he needed to.

The girl grimaces, wanting to caution him but unsure if it would even help. “D-Don’t eat too fast, you might get sick.”

Bakugou stops, looking up at her, cheeks filled and stew covering his face. He didn’t care too much what he looked like, he was just so hungry. He swallows what he had in his mouth and wipes his face with his grungy sleeve. “Right.” He sets the bowl down in his lap, deciding to let what he’s eaten so far settle. “So... what day is it?”

The girl's brows knit together and her face pulls into a grimaced look. “I’m sorry, I don’t know.”

“What? Don’t you harpies keep track of dates?”

Sighing, she puts her hands on her hips and holds out a single digit, “First, I’m not a harpy, I’m a siren. Second,” another digit, “even if I did keep track of time, who's to say that what your species considers eventful is the same as mine?” She stops and exhales softly, “Third, even if we did have the same calendar, I’ve been alone too long to be taught it.”

Bakugou’s nose scrunches and he looks her up and down, “I thought sirens had tails?”

“No, those are mermaids. Sirens are... bird-like, I suppose. Unlike harpies, we’re not practically full birds. We can walk on land like a person just as well as you.”

“Sirens are still man-eating beasts,” he says, sharply, eyeing her

“Again, I have no interest in eating men,” the girl says, now moving about the room, picking things up and decluttering the tables and shelves. Clearing a chair so that she could sit down. “I was raised by a siren who loved humans, wanted to be able to walk amongst them. Maybe even meet a nice male one, one day.”

“So that’s where you come in,” Bakugou says dully.

But the girl scoffs, “No, it is not wise to mate with human men. She knew that. They’re greedy, dangerous, murderers, idiots...” she trails off when she realizes that Bakugou was staring unamused, arms crossed against his chest. She tries laughing it off, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, “Uh, right, um what I mean is that for the most part, it’s not practical. My father flew in from someplace to mate with her and have me.”

“So where are they?”

“Gone.” She looks away and plays with the cloth of her layered dress.

Bakugou grunts, picking up his bowl to finish his stew. Once done, he handed the bowl to the girl who takes it and sets it aside. “What’s your name?”

“Y/n,” she replies.

“Y/n,” Bakugou repeats. “Well, I guess you can call me Bakugou.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Bakugou.” Y/n beamed.

***

A/N: If you liked this please let me know by liking and reblogging!!

[thefantasygirl3]

The fearsom five's christmas hijynx

Genre/warnings: Comedy, Slice of life.

Word count: 7 792

Summary: The other fearsome five are hiding in fear, scared over what Quackerjack might have gotten them for christmas. When he offers them their gifts, they get nervous and make up the excuse of christmas shopping to keep him distracted. Meanwhile they find ways to protect themselves from the dastardly gifts.

Notes: This one really came out later than I’d expect and became far longer than expected! But here it is and I hope it satisfies someone.

The city of st. Canard. It was covered in a white sheet of cold frozen flakes. The day of christmas was quickly approaching and the citizens were all running about in their holiday craze. Many were preparing their houses for the cheerful holiday, others were doing some last minute christmas shopping and some others were preparing traps so they could finally see santa in the feathers. Many active people out and about. 

In fact, even some of the villains were preparing for their christmas plans. 

Negaduck was walking through the dark alleyways, stealthily making his way towards the hideout of his evil team. The villain was scoffing to himself and making disgusted sounds as he stomped his way through. "BLEGH! Christmas junk all over the place! It makes me sick to my stomach seeing all the lights and colorful decorations and APPALLING GLITTER! Makes me want to burn everything to the ground" he complained to no one as he kept heading towards his hideout, making sure he moved undetected through the more populated areas before he finally reached the nest.

Entering the building, he kept talking out loud and started to laugh menacingly to himself. “But it doesn’t matter! All this meaningless malarkey is at least going to be a good distraction for my next heist! Mwua ha ha ha ha! Yes! They will be too busy ripping up presents and stuffing themselves full, no one will be around to stop me from robbing the bank! It's the… perfect… crime…" as Negaduck kept monologuing to himself, his steps started to slow to a stop as he reached the middle of the hideout. The duck immediately took note of the fact that the place was pretty much empty. There should be people here already, he had told them to be there early! "Damn ditzy dopes! I should be getting the chainsaw ready for them when they arrive!" he grumbled angrily as he rounded the corner, heading towards the workspace. 

As soon as he did so, something caught his eye. Out of one of the boxes, a violet petal was peeking out. It was quite obvious and it made Negaduck rub his temples in exasperation. Walking over towards the box, the duck reached out and grabbed the petal in his fingers, immediately plucking it harshly. And with that, Bushroot shot out of the box with a loud "YOUCH!" and landed on his butt, outside the box while rubbing his hair in pain. "Hello, vegetable. Mind telling me WHAT YOU WERE DOING HIDING IN A BOX!?!" Negaduck yelled at the plant scientist on the floor, tapping his foot as he awaited an answer. "N-Negaduck!” Bushroot yelped as he jolted up and crawled back, bumping into a big wooden panel that fell over and revealed Megavolt, curled up on the ground. "Negaduck?!" he exclaimed surprised as he shot up from his place on the floor. "Negaduck! Y-you're here early!" Liquidator added on as his head materialized out of the puddle underneath the fridge.

"Yes I am! And you'll be seeing an early grave if you don't tell me what you're doing!" the duck who's name was repeated earlier demanded as he grabbed a hold of Megavolt and pulled him off of the ground. "Don't you realize! It's christmas! HE might be here soon! We'll be doomed" the plug-head explained in fear as he was shaking on his knees and in the other's hand. "BHA! You idiots gave away our HIDEOUT!?!" the yellow clothed duck shouted in rage, launching Megavolt back into the mutant plant. "Which one of you gave it away?! It's probably that stupid clown! Still hiding from me like a coward" he growled in a low, very aggressive voice while looking around the room and punching a box or two. "No, boss! It's him were talking about! Quackerjack!" Liquidator tried to explain as he crawled out from under the fridge, cowardly moving closer to the other teammates. 

"What? You're afraid of that dope? You've gotta be kidding me" Negaduck started to laugh at the quivering trio, waving his hand dismissively at them before walking over to the work table. "Don't you understand!? Quackerjack makes toys! You give away toys on christmas! And we got a text before, saying he got some very special gifts for us!" Bushroot sputtered out as he ran behind the others and kept shaking in terror. "Yeah! And we have no idea what's in store! WE NEED TO PREPARE FOR HIS ASSAULT!!!" the rat panicked rather quickly as he waved his arms in the air. "He could be here any sec-" as the water man began his part of the explanation, the loud sound of a door being smashed open was heard, followed with a shout of "I'M HEEEERE~!". 

The team flew together into a big, fearful hug and shivered hard enough for the sound of their shuddering to be painfully clear. The boss of the team just shook his head and looked at them annoyed, but in slight amusement. From around the corner, Quackerjack emerged with the biggest grin on his face, two small gift boxes and one larger one. "Geez you guys! If you were all so cold, why didn't you wear a jacket or something? WOOH HA HA!" he laughed at them all and walked over to the table, placing the gifts on it while ignoring the angry duck's protests. "O-oh! You know! It's cooler without them!" Liquidator tried to act casual while pushing the other two aside, not wanting to embarrass himself more than necessary. "Anyways! … W-what'cha got there?" he then asked as he kept a distance between himself and the most likely very deadly gifts. 

"OH! You mean your awesome christmas presents?! Yeah! That's what I got!" the jester told his friend cheerfully as he bounced from foot to foot, jingling his bells about with the bouncing of his hat. "Oh wow! Quacks! Th-that's… so nice of you! C-can't wait for tomorrow!" Bushroot said with a very nervous laugh, rubbing his hands together in some sort of attempt to keep himself calm and away from running out of the room immediately. 

"AAAAAW! But I can't wait for TOMORROW! Can't you open them now?! I hear that some countries celebrate christmas eve" Quackerjack said in his usual ever-changing tone, going from a whine to a more smug sounding voice. "Yeah. Go ahead! Why don't we see what you all got?" Negaduck said in his fake nice voice, curling his finger around the present ribbon. "Oh! Um… that sounds… really nice! B-but… but… um…" now the man was at a loss of words, trying to think of an excuse to not be made into a duck salad. "W-well… we… don't have a gift for you yet! How can we open your… probably great gifts when we don't have anything to give you?" Megavolt chimed in as he ran over to their friend and put an arm around him, trying his very best to convince him that they really did want to open it and not rather be on the other side of the earth.

"Oh. No no no! It's ok! I'd much rather just get the gift of seeing someone finally smile when I give them something! If the kids won't appreciate my toys, at least you guys can enjoy my gifts!" The toymaker said in a rather happy voice, seemingly just out for his teammates' appreciation. This just made the electric man start to sweat and become very flustered, stuttering out an incoherent excuse. Quackerjack just stared at him in pure excitement. 

"Aaaaah… I guess the cat's out of the bag. We couldn't keep it secret for long" Liquidator sighed disappointed as he moved over to his two buddies, putting a hand on each of their shoulders and giving them a wink each. "Wh-what? What secret? Are you guys keeping something from me?!" The now curious jester asked as he looked at the three, getting himself worked up about what this thing could possibly be. "You see, Quacks, we got a great deal on a collective gift we wanted to give you tomorrow, at the mall. But if you want to do the gift giving today, we have no other choice but to pay for the express shipping!" the previous business man said in his usual "trying to sell you something" way, putting his hands on the other's shoulders. "Oh please" the yellow suited villain groaned and rubbed his beak, unable to believe they thought this ridiculous lie would work.

"REALLY?! Oh goodie! I'm sorry I made you spoil it, but I'm so curious now! Can we go immediately?". Of course, when the lie was told to the bluntest shovel in the cutlery drawer, then it wasn't as unbelievable. "Yeah! Of course we can! It will let us do some last minute christmas shopping!" Bushroot said with a grin, putting his vine arm around the oblivious toymaker and leading him outside, the rat and dog following close after them. "HEY! WHERE DO YOU FOOLS THINK YOU'RE GOING?! WE HAVE A HEIST TO PLAN!!!" the ever angry Negaduck screamed after his four subordinates, waving his arms around as he ran after them, only to be buried under a big pile of snow as soon as he walked outside.

Walking through the mall, Quackerjack was following his friends while doing cartwheels and handstands. "Oh boy, oh boy! I just love surprises! Can't we walk faster?!" he giggled as he pushed himself off the ground and landed right back on his feet. "Um… Liquidator? Do we even have a surprise? Please tell me we do! I don't wanna become toy stuffing!" Megavolt was still panicking and sparking while he grabbed a hold of the dripping dog, shaking him around before getting smacked in the face with a frying pan made out of water. "Not to fear, my friends! I have a deal prepared for our cooky friend to keep him busy and with satisfaction 100% guaranteed!" he told the two beside him before he leaned in and started whispering his idea to them.

As they walked around the corner, the team stopped their purple and red friend, to his surprise. "OH! Are we here now?!" he asked them as he jumped up and down, clapping his hands in excitement. "My friend! Are you feeling bored during christmas eve? Feeling the need for some fun? Try… The ARCADE!" Liquidator announced as he moved out of the way, gesturing towards the huge paradise of video games. As soon as Quackerjack saw it, his smile immediately dropped and his face morphed into anger. "THE ARCADE!?! Are you kidding me?! Video games are mindless dribble! They are destroying the toy industry! And you're saying my gift is playing some GAMES at the ARCADE?!" he started yelling at the three while pulling his hat down in rage and frustration. 

"Oh of course not! We know that you hate this type of stuff! Which is why we brought you here!" Bushroot told the angry, jingling jester while he was throwing a temper tantrum. The duck then looked confused about that response, not sure how that made any sort of sense. "Don't tell me you didn't bring any toys with you! How were you planning to wreck the place without them?" Megavolt asked with a smug sounding voice, raising his eyebrows at him and smirking like a proud bastard. Quackerjack looked a little confused still for a moment until he connected the dots, getting a huge, eager grin on his beak. He quickly pulled out his wind up teeth and ran over towards the other guys, giving them a big hug before letting them go and saying "Oh thank you guys! This is such a wonderful gift! I'll be a couple of hours! It's PLAYTIME!!!". Then he was off to cause chaos.

The three looked as he ran off, waving and smiling while wishing him a merry christmas until he was out of view. They then let out a big sigh and sank down on the floor, as if melting from the release of tension. "Ok. So! Now that he's distracted and happy, we can finally get something ready for the assault" Megavolt sighed and moved his glance over towards Liquidator. "By the way, couldn't he just come here and destroy the place himself?" he then asked as they all had the moment to just collect themselves and come back to their senses. "Of course, but he doesn't need to know that" the dog muttered as he got up from his little puddle and helped clean off some dust from bushroot, who spoke up soon thereafter. "Alright. Here is the idea. We will all need to find a way to prevent these toys from attacking us! They will most likely be very advanced or dangerous! So we will need the best of the best stuff to stop them!".

"Yes! And I know exactly what I'll get for this!" the rat proclaimed confidently as he walked to the front of the group, pointing towards a map of the shopping center. "I will be going over to the appliance department and find the best CPU disruptor a man can buy!" he said confidently and put his hands on his hips in a matching demeanor. Bushroot walked over and took a glance of the map, extending his arm and pointing at the only plant store in the mall. "I'll go and see if I can find a good plant that I can mutate". "Well then, I guess I will have to… hmm… I guess going to the pet store to find some vicious fish could be of help" Liquidator pointed at the pet store and left a big water droplet to run down the display. "Alright! We got a plan!" The sparking man exclaimed as he put his hand up, then pointed towards the rest of the mall and shouted "Now GO GO GO!". And with that, they scatter.

The plant scientist was glancing around in the gardening shop, browsing through the different flowers and plants. He deeply enjoyed all of the greenery inside the store. In particular, he was taken aback by a beautiful orchid, making a double take before taking a stop beside the purple seductress. “Why hello there, you gorgeous flora. Ah~ If only my hands weren't tied, i'd buy you in a heartbeat” he sighed and gently rubbed it's petals in a very flirty manner.

As Bushroot was having this rather intimate moment, an old duck was clearing his throat behind him, scaring the ever living crap out of him. "Excuse me, sir. I couldn't help but notice that you are a plant lover, just like myself. Are you looking for something specific?" he asked the now shaking plant man, correcting his glasses that were sliding down his beak.

"Oh! Yes! I'm looking for something… oh wow! Who is that?!" Bushroot interrupted himself as he saw this gorgeous tall blossom, right behind the old florist. "Ah! You mean ms. Antirrhinum! Or more commonly known, the snapdragon flower. She is a beauty, isn't she?" He perked up a bit as the green duck was gawking over this big red cute belle. "Ms? So she's single?" Bushroot sighed as he circled the snapdragon and was practically drooling all over it. "Ah… ha ha ha! As single as they get, I suppose" the florist chuckled before heading over and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Now, what was it that you needed?".

"Huh? Oh! Yes! Sorry! I… I need something more…" as the scientist got back on task, he leaned in towards the other duck, scanning the shop quickly before whispering "... vicious". The florist looked up at him with a rather confused look, seeming shocked about the request. "... oh! You meant something exotic, right! I have many fierce ladies in this store!" He laughed softly at him as he started wandering past him towards the exotic area of the store. "I'm sure we can find a gal to suit your needs!" He added on as he motioned towards the countless colorful plants.

"What? No! No I mean- like literally! Do you have a plant that could, completely theoretically, rip a robotic teddy bear with built in flamethrowers limb for limb? Or chew a killer fairy with a big chainsaw to bits?" Bushroot interrupted him as he tried to explain himself, without giving out too much information about his plan. Clearly doing well! The duck looked over at him and just stared for a few seconds, his face scrunching up into a nervous frown. "Well… we technically aren't allowed to have any sort of plants like that" he told him while starting to roll his fingers and sweat slightly, wiping it off as soon as he felt it roll down his forehead. "Please! You've got to have something even slightly… wait… technically?" the plant mutant then pointed out as he realized the strange wording. As he said that, the florist carefully glanced around the room, as if making sure no one else was in there at that very moment. "I might have someone you would like to meet… if you can keep a secret, that is" he whispered to Bushroot, who was quick to perk up and say "Oh of course. I am far from a narc, sir".

The duck looked around still as he approached a shelf full of seeds, making sure the coast was clear as he started pushing it out off the way to reveal a tough looking door. He quietly unlocked it and pulled his customer inside. As the villain was pulled into the dimly lit room, he was greeted with a bunch of very ravenous looking carnivorous plants. "Oh my goodness! A venus flytrap! Yellow pitcher plant! Cobra lily! AH, a Butterworth!" the awestruck scientist started ogling all the exotic, dangerous, man-eating plant life as he ran around the room like an excited kid on… well, christmas. "Yes. They aren't very legal to sell, but I can tell you are a lover of all plants, just like myself. But enough delaying! Let me introduce you to my precious Monica" the florist told the man, who was still adoring all the big scary vegetation, before walking over towards a large cup shaped flower with a big leaf over it's red, spiked rim. Bushroot gave away a gasp as he saw said plant and ran over to get a better look of it, gushing out "Is that… a tropical pitcher plant?! Oh wow, she's such a beauty! I'll take her! How much does $10 000 sound?! I can get you that if it means I can take such a sweet doll home with me~". He looked shocked at him, not able to believe the amazing offer given. He was practically seeing dollar bills as he reached his hand out and shook the other's hand in an immediate agreement. "Of course, sir! You got a deal! Let me write you down on a payment plan!" he told him as the plant man was still drooling over this beauty of a flower.

Inside the electrical appliance store, the rat was pushing a cart along and looking around at the boring SD cards and other computer parts that would be of no help to him when being run over by a life-sized toy train. Anxiety was starting to settle in on him as he scanned over the stuffed shelves, unable to focus on finding the disruptor he oh so needed when the constant thought of himself being tortured by adorable, crazed murder toys kept popping up in his mind. His eyes darted around, trying his very best to stay focused on finding the life-saving christmas miracle.

"Hello sir! How can I help you?" a nasally voice spoke up suddenly, earning a surprised scream from Megavolt who jumped back into a defensive position, doing some fake karate before he saw the nerdy looking teenage girl. Judging by her lanyard, he could tell she worked there. Giving her an annoyed grumble, he just grabbed ahold of his cart once more and muttered "I know more than YOU". The girl just watched him walk by and frowned a little bit, earning another annoyed comment from the rodent of "Stupid kids. Probably don't even realize what a genius they are undermining". 

"Dude! Are you that big, dangerous, evil supervillain, Megavolt?" another teen with long blond hair covering his face asked in a funky way, sounding like some sort of surfer-dude. Caught of guard, Megavolt only looked around in confusion, not sure whether he should confirm or deny that question. Unsure, he answered with a short and simple "... Yes?", wondering if he'd get thrown out or something. "Oh great! That means you must be smart!" the now relieved boy sighed as he grabbed a hold of the rat man and pulled him along towards the customer service counter. "W-Wait! Yes I am, but what do you need my intellect for?!" he asked baffled as he was dragged along towards a rather angry looking woman, standing beside a toaster that stood on the counter. 

"Well this lady just came in, yelling about how her toaster isn't toasting properly. I was wondering if you would be able to find the problem, dude" the teen asked as he looked at him in desperation, seemingly somewhat lost and frightened by the peeved of lady staring daggers at the two of them. Megavolt wasn't sure how he had gotten himself into this mess, so he just gave the boy a baffled raise of his eyebrow. He was about to say something to him, until the lady cut him off sharply. "Listen! I don't have time for this! I want my toaster fixed YESTERDAY! It doesn't even TOAST! It barely warms my bread to room temperature! I have to wait an hour for warm bread!" she complained to him, completely ignoring the employee that was supposed to help her. The man groaned in annoyance, not wanting to deal with this when he was meer hours away from his childish DOOM! "Ma'am. I truly and  genuinely do not care about your-" before he could explain how much her technical issue didn't matter to him, she snapped at him once more. "Why are you here anyways?! I asked for a MA-NA-GER! Not some whacky, dirty, off-his-rockers criminal! I want to speak with the manager right now so he can call the police to arrest that villain and so HE can be fired!" she started demanding to whichever one of them that would oblige her, practically frothing at the mouth as she was also hitting the counter. 

Alright. That's it. He was ticked. This was now personal.

"... How about we just fix that toaster right up for you instead. And let me do it for free, since you asked sooooo nicely!" Megavolt said through gritted teeth, sounding very condescending to her while he was grabbing her toaster and taking it to a table that was already full of stuff, like paperwork and small tech parts. Shoving it all off the table, he slammed the toaster down and started disassembling it right away, grabbing a few parts around him to add into this household appliance. The woman gave a smug smile at the villain, who was now doing as she had demanded, meanwhile the employee looked on in surprise and awe as he was skillfully fixing this thing like it was nothing. After a few moments of tinkering, the toaster was reassembled once again and Megavolt walked over to the service counter, placing it down in front of the self-satisfied customer. "Now, let's test it out, shall we?" he suggested with a smarmy grin as he pulled out a piece of toast he had, for totally logical reasons, and put it into the toaster. Only a few seconds after the rat had started it, smoke started to seep out of the two openings on the top. And only a moment after that, flames erupted in two ginormous streams of fire. This made the woman start to scream and hurriedly scurry away out of the store. "I hope you like your bread like your coffee! HAHAHA!" Megavolt laughed and held his stomach as the fire started to calm down a bit, letting two burnt pieces of toast pop up with a delightful PING. 

"Whoa… that was awesome!" the nerdy girl from before shouted out astonished as she watched the customer bump into people on her way out of the shopping center. "Yeah, dude! She's been bothering us with complaints and threats to fire us all for months! Thanks for getting rid of her!" the dopey boy said as he grabbed a hold of the villain's hand and shook it harshly, making him get red in the face and chuckle from the flattery. "Well… it is what we criminals do best!" he admitted and rubbed his neck. The girl walked over to the two and joined in in the hand shaking, crossing his arms over each other. "If there is anything we can do to thank you, you just let us know!" she offered him. This made him light up a bit, realizing that this might work perfectly in his favor. "Actually… I am looking for something rather hard to come by. If you happen to have a CPU disruptor anywhere in the store, I would be more than happy to take it off your hands!". "Well… we do have some more high-tech stuff in the back, but we aren't supposed to sell that stuff" the teen said as he looked back towards the backdoor, considering if it would be a good idea or not. "Well you're not selling it if you just give it to me for the favor, now are you?" Megavolt tried to explain to the employees, giving them a "Hmm?" and wiggle of his eyebrows. The two looked at each other, thought about it for a moment, then said in unison "That makes sense!" as they both then raced to the backdoor to get his present. Maybe this christmas wouldn't turn out so horrible after all!

Man. The pet store really wasn't anything to write home about. Liquidator couldn't believe how boring and unappealing it was. More like appalling. It was a wonder they even sold a simple little goldfish with such an unmarketable image. He almost felt like turning right around and head straight out to accept his doom. But he decided against it and just sucked it up, heading inside and looking around at the animals. The dog decided that he didn't have time to wander around aimlessly and try to find a fish that would be dangerous enough, so he headed up to the cash register to find someone who could help him. "Excuse me, ma'am! I require your assistance to find a most exotic, threatening pet that I could adopt!" he spoke up in his usual, classy salesman tone, trying to get the attention of the bored looking lady by the register. "Yeah, Yeah. Sure. Brittney can take care of you. BRITTNEY! A CUSTOMER NEEDS HELP!" she yelled towards the backdoor, prompting a pretty, tall lady to walk out and say "Ok. I'm on it" in a valley girl accent while chewing some gum.

"... Now I see the selling point" liquidator muttered under his nonexistent breath, scanning the employee as she walked over to him and greeted him. "Hiya. So what kind of pet are you looking for, sir?. "Well I'm glad you asked! Because what I am looking for is none other than a predator of the aquatiq variety!" he told the pet shop worker as he moved over to her, extending his body to be on her left, as well as her right. But she didn't seem to care at all, blowing a bubble with her gum as she just said "yeah, sure" and started leading him towards the aquarium section. As she was walking along with him, another customer walked up beside them and tapped her on the shoulder. "Excuse me! But I was wondering about this hamster. I already own a male hamster, will it be ok to have another in the same cage?" the young man asked as he pointed towards a couple of hamster cages. She just looked over at him confused, chewing her gum and grumbling a nonchalant "uuuh… I don't know" before turning to walk away again. She just left Liquidator stunned as he watched her walk away, not giving a single care about the customer. Like, yeah, he didn't care about his customers when he sold water, but you need to at least pretend to care or have a captivating and appealing attitude so you can make more sales. Groaning, he decided to pick up the ball she had just dropped. "Hello sir! Sorry about the laziness of the staff! But let me tell you that no! It is not a good idea to put two male hamsters in the same cage. BUT! It is very rewarding to take care of more than one hamster, as it is stated by professionals that it helps with restlessness! So I'd suggest you buy a second cage for the hamster you want! There are a few high quality ones over there across from the hamsters!" he informed the surprised man, who seemed to be eating up everything he was told, just nodding and saying "Oh! Ok!" before walking off. "Remember! The more it costs, the better it is!" he added on before leaving to find the useless employee again.

As Liquidator found the clueless girl again, she had once again been stopped by another customer, a little girl who had a puppy following close after her. "Excuse me miss. I don't know what food I should give Jasper. What do you think I should buy?" she asked in a sugary sweet voice, making the lady just glance down at her and blow another bubble with her gum. "I dunno. Dog food?" she just huffed before continuing to leave another customer behind. Facepalming himself, Liquidator quickly moves over and taps the girl on her shoulder. "Hi there, little lady! Ignore that big unhelpful lady! She doesn't know anything! If you are looking for good dog food, you should buy the ones with the big "approved" seal on it! If it has that, it means it will be good for him!" the villain said in an overly friendly way as he pointed towards the pet food section. The little girl smiled brightly and started pulling at her dog's leash, running off to find that good quality food.

This kept happening as he was attempting to keep up with the employee, person wants help buying stuff, lady blows them off, Liquidator has to take over and use his sales pitches to make a good sale.

"What is the best toy for my cat?"

"It will love the bell and feather on a string! The stick is made to not snap!"

"Are these vitamins good for my dog?"

"That's a no go! Four out of five specialists would suggest these higher quality vitamins with loads more vitamins in it for your pet!"

"My bird won't stop freaking out!"

"Yikes! Sounds like it is time to expand her cage! Trust me, bigger cage means less panic from your bird!"

After a few more quick sales, the man was tilting against a few aquariums and panting lightly, feeling exhausted from all the talking and pitching. It was amazing that this place was not burned to the ground by the sheer laziness of the staff. He was probably the only help anyone had ever gotten at this crappy store. The employee finally stopped in front of a tank of fish, motioning towards the clownfish swimming inside. This made Liquidator fall silent and just stare at her with a blank gaze. "... So how many fishes did you want?" she asked in a totally clueless voice, just staring back at him. "THIS ISN'T A PREDATOR!!!" he yelled in her face and started boiling from the immeasurable amount of rage this brought him. The employee just looked at him, asking "what's a predator?" cluelessly. The two just stared for a quiet second before the lady just takes out a ring of keys and throws them into Liquidators body. "Here. I gotta leave early today, so please lock up for me" she said dismissively as she just walked towards the front of the store to leave.

He just looked at her shocked as she, just like every other customer, left him alone and confused. Did she really mistake him for someone who worked there because he did her work better than her? 

…

Well at least he didn't have to pay for what he needed anymore.

After a few hours in the mall, the four villains were walking home together, with the jester laughing giddily after his little bit of complete chaos. "Hoohoohehehee! I haven't had this much fun in a while! This is the best christmas yet!" he cheered as he was bouncin in front the trio that were carrying their wrapped presents. He then moved to put an arm around Megavolt, who gave him a nervous grin and moved the bag with the gift box in to carry it with one hand. The air around them, despite the expectation of impending doom, was actually rather cheerful. It was mostly due to the unrestrained joy of Quackerjack, who was just radiating christmas cheer with his excited laughter and singing. "Really? Christmas carols? I thought you were above that?" the rat poked at him with his elbow, snickering as he teased the one walking beside him. "Eh, shut up, Sparky! Can't a man feel the christmas spirit for one?" he snapped back while trying to hold back a happy giggle, wanting to appear somewhat tough. Liquidator and Bushroot looked at each other and gave an amused smile.

And soon enough, they arrive at the hideout. They all strolled inside and placed down their gift boxes under a christmas tree disguise that they had for the heist that was planned for the evening after. It was close enough to a regular tree, so why not? This made the colorful duck jump around even more and squeal excitedly. He was tapping his feet restlessly as he looked over towards his own gifts, wanting so bad to give them to his friends already. This did not go unnoticed, as Bushroot watched his eyes stare longingly in the direction of his own christmas gifts, feeling that nervousness return as he remembered why they even got the "gifts" to begin with. Looking over at the other two, they both took notice of his questioning look and gave a nod, indicating that they were ready for the chaos. "Hey… Quacks. Didn't you have something for us?" he asked with a forced grin, trying his best to not ruin the jester's joy. 

Quackerjack gasped in excitement, not even answering the plant before he rushed off towards the work table to grab the gifts. Bushroot moved over to the others and they all formed a huddle. "Alright! Get ready for the onslaught! Keep close to the tree and hold the box at a distance!" Liquidator whispered to his fellow villains, earning a determined nod from them both. "Alright! Get ready!" the cheery voice of their four team member yelle, causing the huddle to break and the three of them stand innocently beside each other. 

Quackerjack walked over, presenting the biggest present first. Everyone prayed that they wouldn't be the one to recieve the gift. "Bushroot! This one is for you!". Curses. That's just his luck. But still, the plant duck took a deep breath and accepted the rather heavy box, getting even more scared when holding the potential "pandora's box" in his hands. Swallowing harshly, he reached out and pulled the ribbon off, causing the other two to immediately hide behind whatever was the closest. He recoiled back away from the box, expecting to be jumped as soon as that lid was lifted. 

But… nothing happened. That almost shocked him more than anything. So he curiously peeked inside and saw… a bag… a bag of fertilizer. It felt almost disappointing to get something so dull, instead of immeadiate death. But lifting the bag out of the box, he got a better look at it and realized something. "Wait a second! This is-!". "That's right! I got this fertilizer from a lab with some real knuckleheads for scientists working there! It's not even released to the public yet! And now it never will be! It's all yours!" the jester explained as he was hovering really close the the stunned man.

The fertilizer… it was HIS fertilizer! His project that he thought was lost after… the incident that made him into his mutant self. "Wow… wait, knucklehead scientists?" he then questioned, recognizing the description as his old labmates. "Oh yeah! Those two! I took care of them, don't worry! They seemed to really like throwing that football around! So I thought it'd be fun to try and be the ball for a change!" Quackerjack laughed amused as he seemed rather proud of himself. Bushroot just stared at him, tears starting to well up in his eyes before he hugged tightly onto the fertilizer and started wailing like a baby. "WAAAAAAH! THANK YOU! THIS IS THE BEST CHRISTMAS I'VE EVER HAAAAAAD!!!" he cried out and sat down on the floor with his precious bag.

Quackerjack looked shocked for a short moment before looking genuinely happy about the over emotional reaction he got. "Heeheehee… glad you like it" he muttered before grabbing the next box and walking over to Megavolt, who had come out of hiding and was just staring in baffled surprise. His gawking was interrupted as there was a rather small gift box shoved into his face. Accepting it without a word, he just looked back at Liquidator unsure, as if asking if it was safe. He just gave the rat a shrug and looked equally puzzled. 

Megavolt just sighed and decided to go for it, ripping off the ribbon and opening the box. Inside was a USB stick, a normal old USB stick. He picked it up and held it up to the duck. "Ok… I'll bite. What is this?". Quackerjack looked rather smug as he leaned into his face and explained "Well, Sparky. This USB contains countless of blueprints from an inventor, who works for none other than S.H.U.S.H. You don't realize how surprisingly easy it was to get! I bet she doesn't even realize it's gone!". The rat's eyes widened as he heard that. A USB… with S.H.U.S.H level blueprints?! There had got to be some really advanced stuff in that tiny little stick! All the knowledge he could ever desire! He even forgot to yell at the duck for calling him Sparky.

All he could do was sputter random sounds while trying to find any sort of words to say. Megavolt ended up just pulling Quackerjack into a hug and spinning around in a moment of bliss, rambling "ohmygodthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!". The duck gained a bright blush to his cheeks as he was held in the air by his friend, just allowing it to happen as this was just the type of reaction he had hoped for. Didn't expect it at all, but he had hoped. "Oh geez! Sparky! Be cool, pal! You're embarrassing me!" he laughed in a flustered manner, trying to hide how much he's enjoying the appreciation and failing immensely. 

He managed to get loose after a minute or so and took the last, tiny present and started making his way over to Liquidator. The dog looked very sceptical, as suppose to the previous expression of fear. "So… seems you really made a great sale to those two, huh?" he commented to the clown, who didn't say anything back and just wiggled his eyebrows at him. "... Well they are nerds, they get all excited over their… nerdy interests. But I'm a customer that isn't easily impressed. So don't expect any hugs or tears" he then said in a defensive tone and crossed his arms. Quackerjack only grinned wider and held out the present to him, inching it closer and closer to his face while letting out a quiet squeak. 

The water man just sighed and snatched the gift out of his hands, starting to unwrap it so he could just get it over with. And inside was just a piece of paper. That was it. His face dropped and he looked up at the duck. But he just kept grinning and darted his eyes between Liquidator and the paper. Rolling his eyes, Liquidator just picked it up and read over it. As he did, he realized it was a receipt from the local grocery store. "St. Canard convenience store. Wow! You really went above and beyond. Look at all that Sparkling Crystal Pure Flud Water you purcha- w… WAIT WHAT?!" he had to do a double take as he read over the receipt, not sure he read that right. But it was right there, in black and white, over $10 000 worth of his own brand of water.

"I know you better than you think" Quackerjack giggled smugly as he bounced over towards the leaking fridge and threw it open, revealing it to be filled to the brim with water bottles. Liquidator just stared in awe and with his jaw laying in the floor. Quacks picked it back up as he put an arm around his shoulder. "I know that you do love a good sale. But what do you like better? MAKING a good sale, of course! So what better christmas present for THE liquidator than to steal money from the bank and buy every last one of your water with it? That way, the ENTIRE CITY OF ST. CANARD has bought your stuff!" he informed the shocked man that he was hanging on while staring at his face, awaiting to see a reaction from him. 

He just stared at all of his bottled water, processing everything his teammate just told him. That was probably the only thing he could have ever wished for, success for his company. A singular tear fell from his eye, though it could have just been more water, and gave away a small, happy smile. "Wow… thank you, man" he just muttered.

Quackerjack let out a happy laugh as he started jumping around his friends with so much excitement. "Ho ho ho ha haa! I knew it! I knew you'd like my presents! Now, let's check what's inside yours!" he cheered curiously as he then pranced over to the other's presents under the fake tree. "Wait" Liquidator muttered surprised. "Our… presents?!" Megavolt gulped and started sweating, realizing what a mistake they had made with their assumption. "W-WAIT! Quacks! Don't open them!" Bushroot yelled as he started running over towards the duck to stop him. But it was too late as they got to watch him suddenly get shot with a laser that sent a current of electricity through his body. They then got to witness him being attacked by a dozen piranha before he was grabbed by the big pitcher plant that tried to eat him whole. 

The three, after watching this while grimacing and cringing, then proceeded to run over and save him from any further pain. It took a few minutes, but they got him free from the fish and plant, sitting him down on the floor with a blanket and a cup of hot chocolate. "...Not to be rude, since I got such a nice present earlier today, but you guys aren't the best gift givers, are ya?" Quacks asked the others with an awkward grin, trying to not ruin the happy mood he had achieved earlier. But they just gave him an embarrassed look and rubbed their necks, feeling equally as awkward as him. "Listen… We're sorry about all that. We didn't mean to cause you so much pain" Bushroot explained as he sat down beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. "We didn't expect your presents to be… actually really really nice. We thought you'd get us one of your demented toys that would try to kill us!" Megavolt told him as he also plonked himself down on the floor on his other side, rolling his fingers nervously. Liquidator didn't say anything, he just sat himself down and looked at him somewhat apologetically. 

"Waitwaitwait! Are you telling me that you expected me to basically prank you by giving you deadly toys that would rip you to shreds?" the clown asked in surprise as he looked between all of the Fearsome Four with a confused expression on his face. The three just looked away from him and tried to find some sort of justification. But they just felt kinda bad about how they had been acting during the day when the gifts they were given ended up being really good and considerate. What justification could they have that didn't ruin the mood further?

As the jester kept darting his eyes between everyone, his eyes started to water and he began sniffing softly. Bushroot took notice and quickly tried to console him. "H-hey now! W-w-we didn't mean anything by-". Before he could finish his sentence, Quackerjack stretched his arms out and embraced all of his team with a tearful sob. "YOU GUYS! IT'S SO SWEET OF YOU TO THINK I COULD SOMETHING SO CRULE AND EVIL ON CHRIIIIIIIISTMAAAAAAS!!!" he wailed while crushing the three grown men in his colorful arms. 

They all looked down at him pained as their chests were caving in from the force of the love they were given. But they smiled anyways and chuckled at the silly duck. "Geez, Quackers! I never thought any of us would ever have an actually good christmas, let alone us having one together! But you did it! You gave us a truly merry christmas!" Megavolt sighed happily and reached a hand out to rub the crying man's jangling head. It made him giggle through his tears and let go of them all, just grinning thankfully at the lot.

"GET THESE LITTLE MONSTERS AWAY FROM ME!!!" Negaduck yelled as he ran past his team, being pursued by a group of rather scary looking toys as he's chased out of the hide out. Quackerjack just looked confused as they disappeared out the door. "Weird… I thought he'd love a bit of violence!" he said, seemingly surprised by the turn of events. The other guys just looked at each other quietly for a second, before bursting out in laughter at the brief scene. That years christmas turned from wonderful to fantastic.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Heroine (Kei AU)

@nomouth-kei

The video recording had just started and ‘Angela’ was already crying. She was in a pale blue sweater dress with sleeves too long for her arms. The cuffs turned dark as they soaked up her tears.

“Why are you crying Angela?” Toyama’s voice came from offscreen.

“Because... I had a dream that... that I went to hell...” She whimpered, barely intelligible.

“It was just a dream...”

“I know... but...”

He handed her a tissue, his arm appearing in the frame. “But what?”

“I can’t go to heaven. B...because... I killed those people.” She looked down at her hands, trembling.

“You weren’t in your right mind. You said so yourself. They made you drink it...”

“No, I drank it.” She shook her head.

“They tricked you though, didn’t they?”

“Not really.” She shook her head again.

A pause. “You really believe this is your fault?”

Angela nodded.

“But you’re sorry. You’re very remorseful.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She grumbled.

“Why not?”

“B...because I... I did it on purpose.”

Silence. “What do you mean ‘I did it on purpose’?”

“I hit them... so they would die. If they tried to escape... I chased after them. I did it on purpose.” She’d stopped crying, eyes on the floor. “I’m going to hell.”

The video feed cut. Anjou rubbed his forehead and sighed. “Welcome to the world of dragons...”

“She grew up in the world of humans where these sort of actions carry the highest penalty by society. You can hardly blame her for feeling this way, after all, outside of military action, what she describes as doing are crimes. So she feels guilty.” Toyama looked up from reviewing his notes.

Anjou tapped the cigar into the ashtray. “We have to get her to understand that we need that sort of ruthless spirit in our ranks.” His eyes shifted. “Do you have any suggestions Caesar?”

Caesar tilted his head back, eyes rolling. “Is it really that difficult? Get her to do it again! My only regret about this whole situation is I didn’t get to see it. If she’s truly as amazingly violent as she believes she is, she’s an asset to the Student Union. We should frame it less like what she believes is wrong and more like what she believes is right and craft it to appeal to the basest of her instincts.”

“Are you trying to get her to hate herself?” Toyama's head jerked up from his clipboard, his eyeglasses going askew with the sudden motion.

“I’m trying to get her to accept herself.” Caesar’s eyes narrowed in a devilish grin. “I’m a little jealous.  I rarely get to go all out in a fight. I always have to hold back. I can’t just let myself go crazy.”

Anjou chuckled. “You’re insane. You enjoy that sort of thing. This is a little girl.”

“Anjou, I’m surprised at you. You said so yourself. You believe this is an S-ranked Hybrid.” He crossed his arms, squinting at him. “She’s not as innocent and soft as you’re treating her. The violence that runs in me should run even stronger in her, if your assumption is correct. Not only did she kill those men on purpose, as she described, I think she liked it. She liked it, Anjou.” His grin widened.

Caesar chuckled deep in his chest. “She’s going to hell alright. What she doesn’t realize? She’s going to enjoy every minute of it. Let’s let her have a little fun in the sim room.”

He stood up and walked out.

Angela was out in the back garden. It was another frigid day, but she was shoveling the back walk, flanked by two of the officers from the Labor Department. She didn’t realize he was there so he reached out and gathered a hand full of snow from the patio railing, crafting it into a ball.  Then he aimed it directly at her head and launched it like a major league pitcher at the World Series.

He watched her sudden jerk, eyes wide. The snowball whistled just past her nose. He watched her turn, angry and indignant, feeling a warm approving smile come to his face. She looked like she wanted to clock him with that snow pusher.

The guards’ eyes grew large in alarm and their hands went to their belts.

But then she smiled and dropped the tool, “Caesar!” Her voice radiated joy. She ran up and hugged him.

Surprised and awkward, he returned it. “Heh. Well, Angela now is it?”

She nodded. “Kei calls me that but you can call me whatever you want.” 

“Angela’s fine.” He put one hand behind her back to lead her away. “Come with me.”

She looked over her shoulder at the guards who looked a little confused.

“Oh.” Caesar waved his hand, “You two can take a break, we’ll be back in a few hours.”

They walked down a small gravel road. Ceasar breathed out, fogging in the air. “I’ve been dying to talk to you.”

“So...sorry about what happened.”

“I don’t want to talk about what happened.” He said, his tone abrupt and short. “Those glorified B-ranks wanted to see what an S-rank could do and got what they asked for. That’s all it was. You’re suffering because of their stupidity and that annoys me. Let’s talk about something more pleasant. Your future at the college.”

They were approaching the entrance to a metal building that disappeared into a rise in elevation.

Angela chewed her lip but didn’t answer. 

“You need to leave your past behind. That world you grew up in wasn’t the world where you truly belonged. That world judges your true identity as evil. But here at Cassell...” 

They’d reached the door. He pulled a card from his coat and slid it down the slot. The door clicked open. “You’re beautiful. Someone with endless potential. And I don’t say those words lightly.” He held the door open for her to go inside.

The lights came on automatically. The place looked like a utility building with bare open piping running over the ceiling, pale linoleum floors and grey metal walls. “Take off your things and leave them here.” He said, removing his own outerwear.

He watched her eyes move immediately to the gun holsters where he hung his Desert Eagles. The silver gun metal flashed in the dull light. “You’ve never seen guns before?” He asked.

“Yes. Robbie kept a pistol over the book case by the door. In case of emergencies. He kept another one in a night stand.” She said quietly. 

“You weren’t allowed to handle them?”

She shook her head. “He always kept them out of reach.”

“Here.” He removed one from the holster and handed it to her.

She stared at it like it was a live serpent in his hand, leaning away. 

“Go ahead. Safety’s on.” 

Her eyes flicked to his and then down to the gun in his hand. She slowly picked it up. He withdrew his hand. Her eyes were wide in her head. “I first started shooting when I was ten years old.”

“Am I going to shoot things?” She asked. Her voice was shaking. Her body was shaking.

“Maybe? Maybe not, I don’t know.” He chuckled at her. “Hold on to that.” He turned and kept walking.

“You sh... should take it back. I... I’m not allowed...”

“Is that not my pistol? Didn’t I hand it to you?” He gave her an incredulous look. He watched her swallow. She seemed to be panicking but he ignored it. “It can be hard to leave the past behind. But you have to.”

He walked until he came to another larger door with a bright red light over it. He picked up a strange ropey attachment hanging on the side of the door. “Here let me put this on you.” He wrapped a thin piece of plastic with small round metal studs around her forehead. “It will help us monitor you.”

“Okay...”

“We’re not monitoring you as punishment. We’re curious. We want to know you, Angela.” 

“Okay.” Her voice was softer, she was no longer smiling or looking him in the eyes. Withdrawing.

This time, he pressed his thumb to a scanner. “I was born into money according to some. But not a dime of it was truly mine. In truth, I was born with nothing. Everything my family owns comes with the price of their loyalty, obeying their traditions, most of which I don’t agree with. I’m not willing to judge myself by their standards.”

Angela didn’t answer. To her, they’d walked back outside again, but this time onto a city street with run down buildings and boarded up windows. She was visibly confused.

“If I’m to be truly happy with myself, I have to judge myself by my own standards. You don’t have a family name to burden you. You no longer live in the foster home. Your life has changed and you need to adapt, Angela. And that means moving forward.”

She stood there holding the gun, staring at it. “My family didn’t burden me.”

He shook his head. “They did. You just don’t realize it yet.”

A small whimpering noise and a shuffling of a plastic bag came from an alley way. She backed away, but it appeared to be a small black and white puppy. It waddled, flapping its paws against the uneven sidewalk. 

Angela gasped and looked to it. She put the pistol on the ground. “Oh no! A puppy!” She looked around. “Is it alone? Where did it come from?”

Caesar didn’t answer. He looked down the street. A group of people were coming, carrying clubs and what looked like chains. They flipped switch knives. The whole crowd of them stretched from one side of the street to the other.

Angela turned to run but when she looked back, the door was gone! And behind them were more of those armed people! They were surrounded! He could hear her panicked breathing as she cradled the puppy in her arms.

It really was a cute puppy. So young it didn’t have any teeth. He was sure the simulator was making it shiver against her, warm, whimpering and helpless.

As the crowd drew closer, Angela picked up the gun. Caesar looked down at her through the corner of his eye, not moving. If her foster father owned not one, but two guns, she knew what it was supposed to be used for. 

The crowd drew closer, honing in on her as the threat. She tried yelling at them. “Stop! Don’t... don’t come any closer!” She looked up to him for help.

“What are you looking at me for...?” His voice held indifference colder than the winter wind. “You’re the one with the gun.”

She gasped and looked from him to the crowd. They were close enough now that she could see their eyes, the shift in expression on their faces.

“I can’t... “

One in the crowd ran for her, spinning a chain over his head and launching it at her. She squeaked and flinched, dropping the gun. The man grabbed her arm and yanked hard. The puppy fell to the ground, yelping in terror.

The man, laughing, drew back his foot and kicked it. It flew through the air, yipping as it sailed in an arc. The man laughed and made a similar mocking noise. 

Angela let out a griefstricken howl and jumped at the man, pounding his chest with her fist. First flashed a brilliant strobe of light, then a fountain of blood burst from the man’s back. Caesar backed away, whispering to himself. “Okay...”

The blood had sprayed over her face. She ran to the puppy and scooped it up. Caesar continued to whisper quiet encouragement. “Take it out on them... take it all out on them.”

The crowd ran forward like a pack of hungry animals, brandishing their weapons. She stood absolutely still, head low. He could hear her muttering the words, those draconic words. 

The crowd was only a few feet from her when she raised her fist grasping a beam of light that appeared from nowhere that pierced three of her attackers at once before it vanished and reappeared, whipsawing around and cutting a burning red line through a fourth. 

Caesar could barely contain his delight, quietly laughing. Where was a cigar when he needed one?

He’d never seen a soul skill like this. 

She dropped the puppy’s lifeless carcass. Her yellow eyes were full of tears. She wielded her weapon, not like an elegant fighter with complicated techniques but like a desperate angry person with a hammer, slamming it down on their heads again and again, turning them into bloody chunks of meat.

One man tried to run and she grabbed him by the jacket and stabbed him in the back. Then hit him two more times, severing his head and arms as he went down. She leaped at them like a wild tiger let out of a cage and every hit scored a kill. 

“EVA, raise the difficulty by one.” Caesar mumbled.

Now they started to surround her. They grabbed her from behind and struck her in the face. She staggered. The beam of light pierced the one holding her from chin to the top of his head. He fell. 

She swept her arm through the air.

A dozen beams of light shot into the crowd, laying trails of death through it. The beams didn’t dissipate. They turned around and began flying independently in the crowd of enemies!

“Holy... shit...” Caesar’s smile stretched ear to ear and he started to laugh.

Angela spun in place controlling all of these arrows of lightning, mowing the enemies down like grass.

Finally, the beams converged over her head like a sun. She raised her hand and snapped her fingers. The sun burst into flying shards. 

Every last one of the remaining enemies fell. 

She looked left and then right. There were no more. The molten color drained from her eyes. She looked at him, her face falling immediately back to the whimpering pathetic expression. “You did that on purpose.” She said, sobbing into her hands.

Caesar hissed. “Stop crying!”

She startled looking up. 

His voice was harsh and sharp through his clenched teeth. “If you had acted earlier, the puppy would still be alive. If you regret anything, regret that!”

The simulation faded. They were actually standing in a bare warehouse looking area. “You have the power to protect the weak and defenseless and you didn’t use it. Are you going to keep making that mistake?”

She wiped her eyes and shook her head.

“There... that wasn’t so difficult, was it?” He walked over to retrieve his gun where she’d discarded it. He returned it to his holster. “I don’t want to hear you condemning yourself any more. So long as you’re fighting for justice, the bloodstains don’t matter.”

She nodded, trembling and wringing her hands. 

“I want to invite you to the Student Union Club, Angela, once you’re out of here. I’m not going to treat you like the others. I’ll treat you like the heroine you are.”

[3starsquinn]

Lazy Afternoons || Orion & Winn

Timing: June 3rd (Don’t @ us)

Parties: Orion & Winn ( @packsbeforesnacks )

Location: The Commons

Summary: Winn and Rio meet up to discuss Winn’s disappearance and Winn’s memory loss.

Mixed feelings. That was the only way that Orion knew how to describe what he was feeling as he sat, legs crossed, his feet tucked under them. He had picked a random spot on the grass, his bookbag next to him and filled to the top with books. He had agreed to help Winn. That was what Scribes were supposed to do right? He had questions about werewolves and Scribes were meant to collect and impart knowledge. But that didn’t really answer the question about Winn. Was he angry? He didn’t know enough about the situation to hold a grudge. But he didn’t know how else to feel. Hurt? Scared? Those feelings were both way too complicated. Anger was easier. But his dad being with him made things even more complicated. Maybe. Rio didn’t know how to feel anymore. But there wasn’t much time to dwell on it now. His hearing picked up on Winn’s voice from across the large field. Rio jumped up, spinning around to face Winn and who he assumed was his dad crossing the field to meet them. Awkwardly, and against his better judgement, Rio smiled and waved at the two.

The way to campus wasn’t awkward, per se. Sure, his dad had requested to meet his friend fairly out of nowhere, but Winn didn’t begrudge the man for wanting to be involved in his life. (Even if it was, like, a little weird.) But his dad hadn’t told him why he wanted to meet Rio, beyond some bull about wanting to meet a fellow researcher. There’d been a weird look on his face when he’d said that, like he knew somethin’ about Rio that Winn didn’t. And Winn didn’t… well, he didn’t love that? But he’d made a compromise with Dad. Winn would let him tag along and meet Rio, but only if his dad gave them some time to hash things out alone. His dad was happy to go antagonize his future bosses (and walk Denny through campus). As they approached Rio, Winn tossed a blanket his way. “Hey, help me spread it out. I brought grub.” Winn wasn’t above bribery, so had stopped and gotten Rio some fast food, the same order, exactly, as when they’d been on their way to the retreat-that-wasn’t. And who didn’t love a spring afternoon, lazin’ about on a blanket? He’d almost brought a frisbee, but he figured that would kill the vaguely serious vibe. Winn could only hope this conversation went as halfway decently as the others had. Rio didn’t seem the punchin’ type, at least. Denny sniffed at Rio, and Winn remembered that Rio technically hadn’t been introduced properly to his dog. “Oh, Rio, meet Denny. Denny, it’s not nice to sniff new friends without askin’.” The dog looked at him, then immediately back to Rio — an eye roll in dog language, Winn was pretty sure. “And Rio Quinn meet…” 

“Daniel Woods,” Daniel said, holding out his hand to Orion for a shake. “Winn has asked that I,” he held up his fingers, doing air quotes as his students had taught him, “buzz off and let you two talk for a while. Please do go easy on him.” He laughed, tugging on Denny’s leash. “Let’s go, Mister Deniability. I am sure Dean Skaro would love to meet you.” Oh, how Daniel despised that man.

Orion huffed and crossed his arms when he saw that Winn was carrying a bag of food with him across the courtyard. Was this some sort of peace offering? “You can’t just bring food and expect me to— Is that a milkshake too?” Rio squinted his eyes but softened for a moment as he considered the bribe. Eventually, he exhaled the breath that he had apparently been holding and his arms fell to his side. Soon, he completely gave in and bent down to help spread out the blanket. His attempts were thwarted by the dog, but Rio didn’t mind. He held his hand out gingerly, allowing Denny time to get adjusted to the new face before jumping in to try to pet him.

Rio shook the man’s hand, smiling widely and trying to ignore any of the awkward tension, if it could even be called that, between himself and Winn. “Such a pleasure to meet you, sir! I’m super excited to have you join the staff at the college. I’ll make sure that Winn lets me know once you have classes that I can take a look at.” If nothing else, it was always positive to meet another person that was passionate about their academics and learning. Rio knew nothing about the man’s specialty, but he respected him even if he wouldn’t be taking any of his classes. 

Eventually, Daniel led the dog away and suddenly Rio was left with just Winn and the food he had brought along. Rio avoided talking as long as he could be shoveling food in his mouth and then taking the longest possible drink from his milkshake whenever he finished chewing. But the food would run out eventually. And if he knew Winn at all, he wasn’t going to go anywhere. “So. You’re back in town obviously. Where did you go?”

The knots in Winn’s stomach hadn’t loosened, even after explainin’ himself over and over again, so he figured food wasn’t an amazin’ idea for him right now. While Rio ate, and super obviously avoided talking, Winn sipped at a sorry excuse for sweet tea. Least it wasn’t raspberry. Every ‘sweet’ tea Winn had tried for the first few months had been fuckin’ raspberry. Northerners. You can drink sugar, you just gotta pretend like it’s healthy. Naw, admit that shit. Be honest. Speakin’ of…

“Look, I wasn’t lyin’ about everythin’ that happened. I mean, not the basics. A lot of it was a big misunderstandin’, and I didn’t even know y’all thought I was gone until Noah popped me one square on my jaw.” A sip of tea. “You haven’t known me that long, but I really hate lyin’, if I can avoid it. So, um, my name is… well, was Winthrop Linton Zhou. Dad used to be the English department chair down at Georgetown. Mom was in Congress. I, um… some bad shit went down with a Hunter — the kind we both hate — and from there shit gets… blurry. Literally. I wish I could tell you why I was in White Crest, but some shit’s been goin’ on recently, some people suggestin’ maybe I don’t know who I am. And I… Well, I figured the quickest way to remind myself of who I am was to go and talk to the folks who knew me best. Dad. And, uh, my ex-boyfriend-slash-packmate.”

“I didn’t mean to be gone for more than a couple of days, but my dad is a, uh, huxian? Or, shit, what do the Japenese legends call them… kitsune? Foxes. Apparently, when a huxian has a kid with a human, it’s a bit of a coinflip on whether or not the kid comes out human. I got the human end of the coin, so my dad kept my nose out of the supernatural side of the world until… well, until I found it myself. But shit went down, I only found out Dad was, again, literally a fox, last week.” Okay, yeah, naw, Winn couldn’t do this sitting up. He flopped down into the space next to Rio, head resting against Rio’s thigh. “But, um, Dad suggested maybe I’d lost my memory? Or… had it taken? Wanted to rule out, um, wolf-causes before I went after… other causes. And when I asked you, I mean, I thought there was no way it was anything other than some wolf shit. Now, I don’t really know.” He scrubbed at his eyes with the palms of his hands. “So, um. What’s new with you? Likin’ the hair color.” Winn winked up at Rio.

Orion sat patiently, silently while listening to Winn’s timeline. At first it just sounded… like an excuse. Rio had heard enough of them. He remembered all the rushed excuses as to why they had to rush away from Rio if they had gotten stuck in a conversation after Athena was gone. Rio wanted to believe that he had changed since high school. Grown in some way. Enough to be unbothered by people who showed little interest in him or at least enough to know that he was worth more than that. But maybe nothing had changed at all.

But his story started to get way more specific. And way more personal. There was a lot to unpack here. The ex boyfriend, the powerful parents. Some past history with a hunter. His father was a Kitsune? The father that Rio had just casually introduced himself to? Immediately, Rio had to wonder how old the man was. How many pieces of the history that Rio studied so passionately had he been a part of? Rio had so many questions. And Rio needed to remind himself that none of them were important right now given the rest of Winn’s- Winthrop’s?? Story. “Your name is Winthrop?” Rio blurted out, for some reason, that being a key element sticking out in the story, “Sorry- that is the last thing that’s important right now. Ignore me.”

What was important right now? Winn ran through the timeline so quickly that he wasn’t sure what to ask. Or if he should ask. Winn had been intentionally vague about the hunter story? Was it Rio’s business to ask questions? To pry into that portion of his life. Something important enough to lead into another series of unfortunate events that ended up with him in White Crest of all places.

He figured that was for another time when Winn dove back into the source of their original plans. The memory loss. And its connection to being a wolf for a long period of time. Rio still wasn’t sure what he thought. He felt emotional. From the anger that he felt prior to Winn getting here to the confusion he felt hearing Winn spill his guts to him. Rio was just confused. “I uh- well I don’t know. For sure. Memory loss spells exist. I don’t know much about them though. Aside from that, I don’t think we can discount the idea that it is caused by being a wolf for a prolonged period of time. We have no idea how animals perceive time. It’s arguable that spending so long in that form could alter one’s sense of time or self.” He tapped his fingers against the bookbag, not yet pulling any of the books out but trying to pull some of the information from them through some unknown form of osmosis. 

“Me? Uh- pretty boring stuff. I sleep like maybe two hours a night if I sleep at all. Been studying some ancient demon language to try to research the creepy cult that showed up in town for the squid. Did a blood ritual that gave me a creepy third eye in my hand that sometimes opens and gives me visions of chained demons. Oh! And I dyed my hair pink. So thanks.” He tried answering as nonchalantly as possible. He didn’t want to give too much detail. He was upset that he believed Winn’s excuse. If it was all some lie, Rio was as gullible as ever. If it was the truth, then why did Rio still feel so hurt?

“Um, was?” Winn tried. “Couple extra days down south to get it all changed, but it’s not my name anymore.” He left that hanging in the air, hoping Rio would drop it. It wasn’t important and, unlike Blanche or Noah, Winn knew Rio wouldn’t bring it up unless it was relevant. And, given it would never be relevant again, he figured he’d be safe. “It’s fine. I’m not going to ignore you, man, not even if you beg. Um, if you have any… questions, we can, like. I’m tryin’ to be more honest, so, like… Hit me.” He was tired of telling this story, sure, but there were things that Rio didn’t know about him. And whether or not the younger man ‘deserved’ to know them, Winn wanted this to be a space where Rio felt like he could, at least, ask.

“There’s, um, another thing. I haven’t… told anyone this, but I took wolfsbane for a while. Months. It was… laced with something. Honestly, couldn’t tell you what, and I doubt it’s in my system after all of these years. It— I thought I had stopped taking it around the time the… gap starts, but… Well, I don’t know much about wolfsbane, don’t know much about drugs, but I’ve also never met another wolf who took it for that long, who took it when it wasn’t the Moon.” He sighed, covering his eyes with his hands. The sun wasn’t that bright — well, and they’d be due for another blink soon — but Winn could feel a headache blooming in the back of his head.

“I appreciate you bein’ honest, man. It’s… Well, it’s fine to not know somethin’, even if it makes this all a bit… harder, for me to accept. There’s, uh, this guy. Says he knew me, but I’ve never seen him. We kinda… had it out. I don’t like bein’ told who I am, and I freaked out a bit, and… Anyway, my ex told me that he remembered a man whose name started with an S. So, I… Could something carve out so much time? And what happens if I get those memories back?” He took in a breath, trying to keep the slow creep of anxiety at bay. “I’m scared, Rio. Scared of what could have happened to do something to me like that. And if I did it myself, I mean— There’s just so much I don’t fucking know.” 

He laughed, already more exhausted from this conversation than he’d been all week. Not that that was Rio’s fault. “I don’t mean to keep dumpin’ on you, man. You’ve got your own shit, and I’m… Christ, I’m bein’ a really bad friend right now, huh?” Winn leaned up from his place on Rio’s leg, and smiled sadly. “Demons. I— Man, I know you want to help, but it fucking sucks that you’re probably one of our only hopes. You don’t deserve this shit. I mean, none of us do, but you…” Winn looked at the sun, well, the eyeball, as it blinked slowly, and the lights went out. “Not to get all deep in the dark here, Rio, but do you ever wonder, like, why us? I mean, I know I chose to become a wolf, but I didn’t… I didn’t choose to be hated and feared. You didn’t choose to be born with the gene, but you did choose to help, but why… Why should we even have this shit around to help with?”

“I’m sorry,” Winn said, after a moment. “Really, truly, I am. I took for granted that people wouldn’t… care. If I left. And, fuck, I can’t even look you in the eyes and say I wouldn’t have done  somethin’ like y’all thought I did. I didn’t, but I might’ve. Which is shitty. I told y’all, I told you, that we were friends. And I thought… I don’t know. I thought y’all didn’t care as much as I did. And, like, I’m not tryin’ to put words in your mouth, or give you a sob story. That ain’t the point. I just… figured no one would be hurt, whenever I had to leave. I was wrong. And— Shit, I just want you to know that I care about you, Orion. And I want to stick around, ‘cause y’all make my life better. I was… I was in a bad place when I came to White Crest. I’m not in a perfect place now. But I want to be here, for whatever… for whatever that’s worth. So long as y’all will have me.” And then, the sun came back, and Winn winced. Monologuing in the dark. Very chill Winner.

This was all way too much for Orion to handle right now. He had too much going on. Stressing over this just took his attention away from the plethora of other things that Rio had to stress over at the moment. But Winn was trying. He was really trying. He was rambling. Giving more information than Rio knew what to do with. His name was legally Winn now. Which seemed significant, though Winn didn’t seem too apt to talk about it. And Winn seemed open to any questions. Rio felt too tired to even ask questions right now. Especially when he felt there was still so much he didn’t know. He pushed the offer to the back of his mind for a moment. He’d circle back around to that.

Thinking about an actual assignment helped to ground Rio. He could think better when he was thinking as a researcher than something else. The idea of trying to help Winn with his research was pretty much the only thing that had convinced Rio to actually meet Winn out here. “Not knowing something actually really stresses me out so…” Rio let the sentence fade out, pausing to take a drawn out drink from his milkshake. “This just reminds me of all the other stuff I don’t actually know about.” Winn was missing information. Rio knew about Wolfsbane, knew it’s intended effects. But hadn’t known that wolves took it… recreationally? It must be like some kind of drug. “It depends on the source. If the memories were magically taken then arguably they could be magically restored. Probably.” Not that Rio was any expert on magic. “But- I mean it could be something completely mundane too. Maybe they’re repressed memories. Something your brain blocked out as some sort of defense mechanism. Did you ask your ex? Or do you know that other guy that could help fill in the blanks? Maybe if you start hearing them it will jog some sort of memory?” It was definitely more of a theory than anything Rio was confident about. He wasn’t a doctor though. He definitely wasn’t qualified to talk about this. 

Rio wanted to laugh with Winn regarding the ridiculousness of the town, but when he tried it came out as more of a choked sob than anything else. “I’ve been asking that same question since… I don’t know. Probably like ten-ish? I’ve known about the supernatural for a long time. Practically my whole life. But I didn’t understand what I was at first. I like learning about others. I didn’t realize I was learning how to become a killer.” Rio couldn’t remember the moment that he had his epiphany. But it was harder to remember a time where he didn’t feel that way. 

“Well… we do care.” Rio crossed his arms. There were things he wanted to say. So many doubts that filled his head that he needed answers for. If only he wasn’t too afraid to say them. Or maybe… maybe he should just say them. “Look, I- I just want to know-” Rio paused again. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to be confrontational. “I need to say stuff but I can’t say it with you looking at me so…” Rio looked at him, motioning silently for him to turn away before he finally resorted to pleaing, “Please?” When Winn wasn’t looking at him anymore, Rio followed suit and stared at the ground, focusing on counting blades of grass as he spoke. “I didn’t have any real friends growing up. I guess my sister was one of the few. I don’t even know if we were friends or not. But she did care about me. And she tried to get others to like me. She was popular. I wasn’t. The first couple years she tried to pull me into the popular group. Her friends were nice to me. Nice enough. Until she wasn’t with us to supervise. What I’m saying is- I’ve spent my whole life with pity friends. And I don’t need those. I don’t want those in my life anymore. But I can’t figure out who actually wants to be my friend and who just feels bad for the nerdy, quiet kid with social anxiety. So- if that’s what this is. I don’t care, okay? No hard feelings. We can just cut out losses and go. Because I have a lot going on and I don’t have the emotional capacity for it.” Rio realized he was gasping for breath once he was finally done talking. At first he thought that it was from rambling, but he realized quickly that he was hyperventilating. It felt like the onset of a panic attack, but Rio was keeping things surprisingly under control. He just needed to try to keep it that way.

Winn laughed, short, almost a bark. “You’re telling me... I don’t even know what I don’t know. César — the ex — doesn’t know much. Just when I stopped talking to him.” A frown, considering Rio’s story about being a Hunter. He felt for the younger man, truly. “I can’t imagine what that was like — having your curiosity taken advantage of like that.” 

But Rio didn’t linger long on his past as a child of killing machines. No, instead, surprisingly, he pivoted to his own feelings. Winn would be proud, if not for the way his heart broke in two as Rio described so-called pity friends. And then he was proud, so proud, because Rio was asking him, point-blank, where they stood. Sticking up for himself. Winn wanted to hug Rio. He would. Winn turned back towards the younger, wrapping him up from behind in the biggest embrace he could manage, trying to pour the truth of his friendship, of his affection for Rio, into the squeeze. “Dude,” he said, firmly. “I would never do that to you. I like you ‘cause you’re smart, compassionate, and pet me on the scruff if I ask nice. We are friends. I swear. Maybe not close friends, not yet, but I don’t... I’m choosier than you’d think, about those I let into my life. And I want you here, if you want to be here. Of course I do.” He gave Rio another squeeze for good measure, and held it there for a moment, giving the other man a moment to compose himself.

Orion sighed, wishing that he had something, anything more that he could offer to Winn. But for now, Rio had nothing else to give. He could do some more deep diving. It didn’t make sense that Winn was the first this had ever happened to. It couldn’t have. There had to be an explanation. Rio just had to find it. “Sorry. It must be really frustrating. Losing chunks of time like this.” 

Rio couldn’t believe he had actually built up the courage to lay it out like that. He could only have his friends to thank for this newfound courage. And he wasn’t sure what he expected. Nobody wanted to admit that they were just hanging out with someone out of pity, but Rio hoped that given the circumstance and how honest Rio had just been with Winn that Winn would afford the same honestly. What he hadn’t expected was to be hugged. Rio went still immediately from the surprise. Affection always took Rio off guard, but it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. Rio had come to find that in certain situations he actually enjoyed being hugged. By the right people. 

Rio really wasn’t expecting for Winn to go into detail on why he liked him. Rio was happy to get an honest answer, but all the spotlight and attention on Rio made him beet red. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked in such a public park, where prying eyes could make Rio feel even more uncomfortable and seen. All he wanted was to be invisible. “Oh. Wow. Well, that was super honest. So, uh, thanks… for being my friend?” He was fumbling through words now, unsure how to respond. When Winn unwrapped the hug, Rio sat back on the blanket and pulled his legs up into what looked like a fetal position. “So, uh— research was sort of a bust this time around. But I brought some extra books with me that we could start looking into? After I finish the rest of my food.” He dug into his bookbag for the tools he was using to change the subject. Maybe Rio was still a bit hurt, but it was at least good to know that Winn was an actual friend.

[thenightau]

Chapter 35- Good Times for Help

AO3:https://archiveofourown.org/works/23525842/chapters/56422468

TW: Swearing, Yelling, Slapstick humor, Dad jokes. 

Iskall looked down at himself, clad in iridescent diamond armor. He looked at Doc, False, and Cleo, all armored up and ready for a fight. The tension between them was thick enough to cut with a knife. 

“Ready yourselves. I see them.” Doc said, his voice a low snarl. For a moment, Iskall swore his robotic eye was narrowed in a glare. The grip on Iskall’s sword got tighter, and he felt his feet dig into the ground. His years of training being so natural it was like breathing. 

Tango was the first to land. His hands were up and none of them were wearing armor. A show of good faith. “Woah woah there! We don’t want a fight!” He said, a nervous smile growing on his lips. 

“You kidnapped Scar, what else did you expect?” Doc growled. Cub, Ren, and Impulse were the next to land, none of them carrying weapons. Impulse was just nervously playing with his shovels. 

“Okay. Fair enough.” Cub sighed, having heard Doc’s growl. He scratched at his beard, and thats when Doc realized something. 

“Your nervous. All of you.” He said bluntly. And the group deflated. 

“What happened?” Cleo asked quickly, her orange hair tied up in a ponytail. “Night didn’t get Scar did he?” She asked again, before anyone could respond. The group of traitors looked to one another. 

“It’s only fair if Ren explains.” Tango said with a bit of a glare himself. Ren pouted a fraction, a low growl leaving him. 

“It’s not my fault.” He said. 

“And we know that.” Impulse said. “But… It still happened.” 

“What happened?” Doc asked, walking closer. He grabbed Ren by his collar, pulling the werewolf to his height. “You better tell me now, or pray to the void that respawn is fixed.” His voice was a low growl, and it sent shivers up Iskall’s back. Ren’s hands shot up, and he laughed nervously. Tango and Impulse stepping forward to separate the two.

“Well… You see…” Ren started, laughing still as he was dropped onto the floor. He looked up at the creeper hybrid. “We kinda… Lost him.” 

“wHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU ‘LOST’ HIM?!” Doc yelled, and the group flinched. 

“You see…” Cub walked over, getting in between Doc and Ren. “With last night being the full moon, of which we… were neglectful to realize. And Ren kinda… Killed him.” Cub smiled, his hands raised. 

“So what your saying is.” Cleo sighed, stepping foreward and placing a hand on Doc’s shoulders. The hybrid turned and backed off, steam practically leaving his skin. “Ren killed Scar. And respawn is fixed?” 

“That’s what it seems to be.” Cub said. Iskall scratched at his beard. 

“Did you check spawn?” He asked. 

“Yes. Impulse and Tango checked spawn while Ren and I checked his shops.” Cub said. 

“His base?” False suggested.

“Checked there too.” 

“The diamond mines?” Iskall asked. He got a confused look back. 

“The what?” 

“Scar’s mineshaft.” 

“Oh… no we didn’t.” Cub sighed. Iskall nodded. “I’ll check there myself-”

“Oh no you don’t.” Doc said, walking right back up to them and shoving Iskall out of the way, grabbing Cub’s wrist. “You are not going anywhere until you agree that Scar will be free. It’s not his fault he has magic.” Doc growled. 

“We don’t know if he’s working with Night, Doc. I explained thi-”

“What would Xisuma say?” Doc said suddenly. And that shut Cub right up. “He would be as pissed at you as I am. Because you’re what? Discriminating against him for shit he can’t control?” Doc growled. Cub deflated. 

“... Fine. On one condition.” Cub said, “We keep him away from his own base, and hidden somewhere. I don’t want Night finding him and using him.” 

“Deal.”

____

Scar was sitting on a black bed, The stone house around him built to be in ruins. It was clearly Cleo’s work, the armor stand work made him sure of that. He wasn’t sure what this was, but he bet it was a fun thing that had happened. A part of him was upset he hadn’t been invited to make some apocalyptic builds, another part wondering if Xb could predict the future. Because to him, it sure seemed like it. Xb was sitting beside him, an arm wrapped around his shoulders as the other was trying to talk to him. He couldn’t hear what the other was saying right now. Everything was muffled. He knew TFC was talking to Jevin and Hypno, and he knew here he was save from Ren and Cub. But he was still in pain. 

Some sort of deep seated pain that clung onto a man and only squeezed a bit tighter every time the thought of pain was brought up. The pain started in his heart, and spread out to every limb on his body, a numbing feeling all the way to his fingertips. The pain was mixed with another feeling. A swelling of magic. He refused to let his magic be released though, especially not around other hermits. He almost hurt Grian the last time! He couldn’t let that happen again. 

“Scar? Scar!” Jevin was in front of him now, his face one of gentle concern. “You with us?” He asked, and Scar nodded with a weak smile. 

“Yea. I’m here.” He said faintly. His voice was weak. He looked around. “Wait… Where’s Tfc?” He asked, an immediate surge of panic flooding through him.  

“Don’t worry about him. I think he’s off to yell at the other hermits. He’s our dad after all.” Jevin tried to joke lightly. Scar didn’t laugh. 

“You let him go?! By himself?! What about Night-? What about the civil war I-” 

“The other hermits won’t hurt him.” Jevin said calmly, his voice cutting through the layers of Scar’s panic. “Night won't get him.” 

“H...How are you so sure?” Scar asked softly. Xb responded next. 

“I mean. We’re the only one’s Night hasn’t attacked.” He said. Scar immediately bent to the side and knocked on the wooden floor. Xb chuckled at him. “Yet.” He said, to ease Scar’s superstitious mind. Scar nodded, and slowly sat up straight. “I don’t think he has much of a reason too. TFC especially. I mean, the man’s 50.” Xb smiled gently, and Scar nodded. 

“Yea… Guess you’re right. Sometimes I forget.” 

_____

Tfc sighed as he walked through the nether for the third time today. He hated this place, He prefered the overworld, but he also understood the world was changing. The nether was the fastest place to travel. And he needed to find a few people. Cub and Doc specifically. He stepped through Cub’s portal first, hoping to find the quote un quote ‘pharaoh’ in his pyramid. He walked into a cave, sighing and just carefully walking across the packed ice. 

He really couldn’t afford a broken hip right now. 

He climbed up and into Cub’s pyramid, and saw no one there. He groaned loudly, wondering where the hell those two were. He walked over to the ender chest, and threw it open. He watched as his own stuff magically appeared before him. He pulled his communicator onto his wrist, and pulled on his elytra. He hardly used the thing, but thankfully Grian had been teaching him how to use it before everything went down. He rummaged through Cub’s things, promising to put back anything he misplaced as he grabbed a stack and a half of fireworks. He left an IOU in their place. 

Tinfoilcheif: Hermit meeting. Now. 

His words were simple and to the point. But he knew the other hermits would take him seriously. 

Tinfoilcheif: Meet at Grian’s mansion in 20. No exceptions. 

Docm77: got it. 

Cubfan182: Understood. 

Tfc nodded, walking out of Cub’s pyramid and walking up to the top of it, grumbling the entire way up. He couldn’t believe the hermits were being so stupid. He got to the top of the pyramid, taking a rocket and sighing. “Grian I swear to god if this doesn’t work. I will personally give you permadeath.” He grumbled, taking a running jump off the building and firing the rocket. 

Air flew past him quickly, and his eyes shot open. He. He was flying! Tfc laughed a bit, firing off a few more rockets and flying into the air. He started to head towards Grian’s mansion, twisting his body in the air and gripping onto the edges of the elytra. He understood why the other hermits used these now! It was actually rather enjoyable! 

___

It didn’t take long for the hermits to assemble. Scar was holding onto Xb, terrified that Cub and Ren were gonna drag him back into that cage again. As soon as the others arrived and saw Scar, they deflated. They knew how much trouble they were in. Tfc stood in front of them, all of them gathered outside of Grian’s ‘basement’ area of his mansion. His arms were crossed, and he glared at the other hermits. 

“Ya know. I used to think you were all really understanding, reliable people. But as soon as your admin vanishes you go straight into chaos?! You kidnap a fellow hermit AFTER HE WAS ATTACKED and almost killed?! Xisuma would be ashamed of all of you! Going into Civil war?! What the Nether is wrong with you people?!” Tfc yelled, and even Doc shrunk under the old man’s anger. “Scar was and still is hurting. Iskall is hurting and don’t you DARE lie to me and say you’re not, boy!” He scolded, pointing directly at the green clad man. “Listen! We have a HUGE threat in this world! A huge threat to OTHER worlds! And you guys are just fighting like children amongst yourselves! Grian, Mumbo, Wels, Stress, Suma, and Bdubs. You all claim to not know why he’s going after people when there's an OBVIOUS connection between them!” Tfc started to pace back and forth, unable to stay still with his anger. 

“Mumbo is a redstone genius, Grian is an amazing builder, Wels is loyal to a fault, Stress is a damn princess, Suma is an admin and Bdubs is also an amazing builder! Stress is the only one whom I don’t see benefitting Night! But I don’t know the young lady well. You should be protecting each other! Not at each other's throats! Cub is right. Scar could be next. You should be protecting him. Not locking him away to be some cHEW TOY.” He roared. “Am i clear?” He asked, his eyes still narrowed as he looked at the hermits. They were all hunched over, looking like scolded children. “AM I CLEAR!?”

“YES SIR!” The hermits responded with tenseness. 

“Good. Now, I am going to do what I do best, while you all make up with each other, and come up with a battle plan. Scar. Can I use your diamond mine?” Tfc asked. Scar looked up, his face brightening a little. 

“d...Diamond mine challenge?” he offered weakly. Tfc smiled kindly. 

“If you think you can beat me.” 

___

The rules had been set by Scar. One hour, in a straight line. Whoever came back with the most diamonds won. Each person had an ender chest and their tools, as well as their own intuition. Doc at first demanded that they take someone else with them, but Tfc managed to get out of being followed by a hermit awkwardly for an hour. Scar ended up going on his mining trip with False while the other hermits sat at the mine's entrance, coming up with battle plans. 

Tfc wasn’t necessarily human. Well… he was, just, not fully. He was half dwarf. So not only was he shorter than most of the hermits- Stress and Scar were only exceptions- He naturally was able to mine faster without beacons, and it was much easier for him to find diamonds. Sweat was on his brow, the underground tunnel hot and cramped. But something about the situation was… calming for him. He was alone here, with only his thoughts, his pickaxe, and the sweet sweet smell of diamonds. 

He broke through the last diamond of a cluster when his communicator’s timer went off. And he looked down at it with a chuckle. Scar had absolutely no chance against him. When he looked up again, he saw stone bricks. And for a moment he thought he mined all the way to the stronghold. Before he remembered the stronghold was in the completely opposite direction. 

Tinfoilcheif: Guys. have any of you used stone bricks at lvl 12?

Docm77: I don’t believe so. Hold up, im coming after you. DON’T do anything. 

Tinfoilcheif: I’m digging through it. I hear something on the other side. 

“Hello?” Was what he heard, and movement. Was that Xisuma? He heard Grian telling him to shut up, and how he was lucky to even be getting food. He waited a few moments, pressing his ear to the stone brick. He felt it vibrating as someone- presumably Grian- walked away. He heard a wooden door slam closed, before he took out his pickaxe. He broke the piece of stone, and his eyes widened at seeing the admin. The admins eyes were just as wide. “Tfc-?!” His voice was quiet, nervous as he looked back and forth. “H...How did you find-?” 

“No time. Let's get you out of here. I’ll write down the coordinates, we can get Doc and the others to get Bdubs if he’s still on our side.” Tfc said, sending his coordinates in chat and pulling Xisuma out through the small exit he had made. He quickly replaced the stone. Xisuma started to run, and Tfc followed after him. 

“What’s been going on?” Xisuma asked, and Tfc sighed. 

“Scar was attacked, killed by Grian essentially. The hermits were about to go into civil war because they found out Scar wasn’t Vex, and Cub assumed he was on Night’s side, so he kidnapped him. I had to yell some sense back into them, and right now they're in Scar’s diamond mine, coming up with a plan. And void do we need you right now.” Tfc said, running behind the admin to protect his back. “You happen to have a plan by any chance? We’re struggling.” 

“Surprisingly? Yes.” Xisuma said, panting as they ran the thousands upon thousands of blocks back towards the mine. 

___

“XISUMA!” The hermits yelled, seeing Xisuma emerging with Tfc. They were all wide eyed, watching the two collapsed into panting heaps on the ground. Doc and Cub ran over to them, helping them lay on their backs and telling Cleo to go get them food and water. Tfc only realized then how hungry he was. His stomach was tensing up painfully, and he put a hand over his larger belly. 

“Tfc? You okay?” Scar asked, walking over to the two weakly. 

“Yea. Just fine kid.” Tfc said, taking the golden carrots Scar handed him and gladly chewing on a few, Xisuma doing the same. 

“Thank void you guys are okay.” Doc sighed. 

“I heard what happened, and frankly I can’t believe you guys.” Xisuma said with a sigh. “But that doesn’t matter now. Cause I have a plan. As admin, I can go into other worlds. I can take people and things to other worlds with me. So, lets get us some alley eh?” Xisuma said. 

“Tango, Impulse, and Cub. I need you to start making some houses to hold others. Doc, I trust you to be a manager here, make sure this all gets done. The houses and rooms don’t have to look pretty. But we’re going far from our little area. As close to the world border as we can go. Everyone, while I’m gone, Collect every bit of spare armor, weapons, diamonds. Anything you have. Iskall, go to your pigman farm and collect as much damn gold as you can carry. I have to go meet with a few of our dear Grian’s old friends.” Xisuma smiled, taking his mask when Cleo came back with it. He borrowed Tfc’s elytra and rockets, before he flew off to his own jungle base. 

The rest of the hermits started to rush back to their bases, even going through the ‘converted’ people’s bases to loot, despite feeling awful for doing so. They’d pay them back whatever was broken later, when they won against them. 

___

Wels was carrying Bdubs as they flew through the sky. And So far none of the Stars had found them or were chasing them. The two were locked in a never-ending cycle of apologies. Wels apologizing profusely for what he had done, while Bdubs tried to reassure him that it wasn’t his fault and not make them crash because Wels starts hyperventilating. They landed the first place Bdub recognised. “THERE! There's a nether portal at Keralis’s base!” He said, and Wels flew down, looking around quickly. The two ran into the portal, laughing as they were so close to the others. So close to their freedom. Bdubs grabbed Wels by the hand, running to the shopping district. 

They jumped through the shopping district's portal, went down the water elevators, and Bdubs ran straight for Tango’s fireworks shop. He grabbed a whole bunch of them, before running and nabbing an elytra. The two hermits quickly flew to Tango’s base, as it was one of the closer ones. They caught sight of the blond man running around and shoving things into skulers, the two of them tackling him. 

“TANGO!” The two yelled, and Tango screamed- totally not in a high pitch, girly shriek of terror- as he landed hard on the ground. 

“Bdubs?! WELS?!” He yelled, laughing as he wrapped his arms around the two. “Oh my void you guys are okay! But- But I thought Wels was one of them-?” Tango asked, adn Bdubs nodded. 

“I managed to break the spell! A song of true love~” Bdubs grinned. Wels punched his arm.

“The idiot is only half right.” He said fondly. Bdubs and Tango laughed. 

“Come on, I need help packing everything together.” Tango said. The two got off him and looked at him odd. 

“How come?” 

“Tfc managed to accidentally mine into Night’s base. That means we have a direct link to him-their?-base. But they also have a direct link to us. So once they realize Xisuma is missing…”

“You’re doomed?”

“To the extreme.” 

“Alright! Wels then let's get goin-!”

Bdubs got a groan for that one. 

__

Xisuma sighed, walking through Grian’s old world. Evo. He knew some people might still be here, but he wasn’t sure who currently. He looked around at all the old textures. At the lack of blocks he was so used too- certainly no honey blocks that is. “Hello??” He called out, cupping his hands over his mouth. He was at Evo’s spawn area, not having moved yet off the platform. He saw Grian’s city in the background of spawn, and chuckled a bit. The little gremlin really left his element when he left Evo. And god was Xisuma proud of him. 

He started to walk around the mob ridden area, with only a diamond sword with him. He saw a flash of lavender from the corner of his eyes, in a tree. And he ran up to it. “HEY! Are you Nettyplays!?” He called out, and a panda hybrid poked her head out of the tree.

“Um… yes thats me! Who are you?” She asked kindly, “Wait, let me get down there!” She chirped, climbing down her ladder. 

“My name is Xisuma, I’m an admin. And I was wondering, You’re friends with Grain right?”

“Oh absolutely! Has he been okay?? He hasn’t been sending letters for a few weeks now!” 

“Ahhh… about that.” 

“What trouble has he got into-?”

“A lot. Let me explain to the best of my knowledge…” 

~

“So what your telling me is. Theres this scary void guy and he wants too… rule the universe?” 

“Pretty much.” 

“And he… processed Grian and a few others into joining him?” 

“Yeup.” 

“And you need me to go get my brother and his friends to help you get Grian back?” 

“That be ideal.” 

“Why don’t you move worlds?”

“He’d probably end up corrupting all of them.” 

“Touche.” 

Netty was sitting down, Her and Xisuma having made a small fire pit. She scratched at her neck, but sighed. “Anything to help Grian. I’ll get in touch with my brother. Actually! I can give you his world name! Would that help? And the names of a few others!” 

“Would you? That’d be awesome!” Xisuma said. 

“Stampy's lovely world, and Squid’s sky island!” Netty smiled. Xisuma nodded. “And I’ll come with you! My brother can be a bit… food driven. I know how to convince ‘em.” She giggled. And Xisuma chuckled. 

“Alright then! Thank you so much Netty. It means so much to me. To us.” Xisuma stood up and went over to spawn, which thankfully wasn’t too far away. He let out a breath, using his voice abilities and only softly mumbling the words. 

“Stampy’s lovely world.” 

___

Xisuma paused when they got to the world. “Holy…” He mumbled, looking around the vast and completely filled to the brim world. There was so many lights, shops, and he even saw a few rides in the background. He yelped when Netty grabbed his hand and started to run, running straight to a house over a bay. 

“STAMPY!” Netty yelled, and a few people poked out of no where, all animal hybrids. Reindeer, elephant, ect. What caught his attention though, was a bright orange cat. 

“He looks so fluffy-” Xisuma mumbled under his breath. He heard Netty giggle before explaining the entire situation to her shell shocked brother, waving her arms about and gathering the crowd of helpers. 

“So we really really REALLY need you’re help! And you’re dog’s help too!” Netty finished. And Stampy closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. 

“You’re so lucky I love you Netty.” 

“YES!!! Thank you Stampy!” She hugged her brother, and Stampy laughed. His laugh was a wheezing one, happy and infectious. Xisuma chuckled softly. “Stampy! This is Xisuma. He’s a fellow admin!” She chirped. 

“Nice to meet you! Can I call you X?” He asked, Xisuma waved his arms around shyly. 

“Ah… I’d rather you not. That’s… kinda what we call my twin.” Xisuma said. 

“Oh! Sorry then!” 

__

Doc watched as the others scramble around in the snow biome, making homes and work areas out of whatever materials they could get at their base and shops. It was quite amusing honestly, watching Cub run around like a chicken without his head. He was perched on top of a tree, looking at the village beside them and sighing. “Poor, poor villagers.” He said slowly, leaning back into the spruce tree. “They probably don’t understand whats going on.” He said, monologuing again. He held his sword in his hand, running his finger along the blade. “Oh It will be amazing once I get this sword through that creatures chest.” He grinned lowly, the expression twisted. 

“OI DOC! STOP DAY DREAMING OF MURDER AND HELP US!” False yelled. 

“Okay okay! Damn! No need to shout!” He said, jumping out of the tree. False rolled her eyes fondly, and Doc walked over to help her build the small, two to three person homes. “I wonder who Xisuma is bringing though. It make more sense to go to Stress’s kingdom and get her parents army to help us fight.” 

“Xisuma is our admin, not our brain cell.” 

“Very true.”  

The group paused when they got an influx of notifications on their communicators. 

Stamplongnose has joined the server

Nettyplays has joined the server

Iballisticsquid has joined the server

Mithzan has joined the server

Yourpalross has joined the server. 

And around twenty other people. Doc whistled lowly. “Daamn. And its only been an hour. ‘suma works fast.” 

False laughed. “Oh my void. I think those are other admins. And Grian’s old friends.” She grinned. “Oh Night is officially fucked.” 

___

“WHY THE FUCK IS SKY HERE?!” 

“BECAUSE I DON'T WANT MY WORLD CORRUPTED THANKS!” 

“Guys! Calm down-”

“MAX CHILL OUT!”

“SHUT IT POOKIE!” 

Xisuma pinched the bridge of his nose, bashing his head into a crafting table. Okay. Maybe he should’ve thought this through a bit more. “We don’t have time for you’re bickering. Come on. Lets get you elytras and we’re heading out.” Xisuma said, opening a chest full of boasts and throwing them down for everyone. He found out the names of these other admins and they were… and interesting bunch. 

Max and Ross were both admins to a lot of worlds, same with Sky- aka Adam. He was lucky he accidentally ended up in another server, with access to so many good pvpers. But… the bickering was unbearable. He guided everyone to the shopping district, being as discreet as he could with 20 people. 

___

Night knew of the others that joined the server. He had Bdub’s and Xisuma’s communicators after all. And he was quick to alert his Star’s on the situation. Assuring them that failure was not an option, no matter what. He noticed the flickering in Bird’s eyes, for now just assuming that was Grian telling him who these new people were… 

It was in fact, quite the opposite. Currently going on in ‘Birds’ head was…

“oH MY VOID NETTY AND TAURUS ARE HERE! THEY DO CARE!!! HOLY SHIT! HAHAHA FUCK YOU!” 

“Oh my vOID SHUT THE FUCK UP BEFORE I ACTUALLY THROW US DOWN A FLIGHT OF STAIRS.” 

Around 20 minutes later, after Night had explained the situation, Observer was trying to find the winged Star, only… only to see him at the top of a ginormous staircase. “Bird?! What are you doing?!” He yelled, only to screech as the avian threw himself down the staircase. He watched the winged man thud down nearly 64 stair blocks of varying materials. Observer watched with a deep frown, and he could hear Mumbo’s hysterical laughter in the background. He watched as Bird got to the bottom of the stairs, groaning loudly in pain. 

“Well did you really think that was a smart idea?” Observer asked, holding back his urge to laugh. Bird nodded as he groaned. 

“I think I broke every bone in this body.” 

~Ollie ;)

[findingfandomwithafangirl]

A Little Rebellion (Is Good for the Soul)

Diana x Jerry HeadCanon

- It’s about a month after the ‘sprained’ ankle incident

- Jerry and Diana are in what seems like a real relationship

- Diana visits him at the Cuthbert farm often

- Anne knows about the budding romance and teases Diana about it endlessly

- She also constantly wonders what Diana could possibly see in Jerry of all people

- Jerry shares books with Diana

- Diana bakes him food and gives him little tokens of affection

- Sometimes Diana will just sit in the barn and speak french with him as Jerry works

- Jerry is head over heels for her

- Eventually he wants Diana to meet his family again

- This time as a girl he’s courting though

- He doesn’t really know how to ask her though

- He’s worried to come off too strong 

- Even though he truly believes he’s in love with her

- He ends up just inviting her over for dinner, not mentioning the courting or romance of the night

- Diana manages to sneak out and the two of them have a lovely night

- They dance again

- Diana attempts to hide their relationship a bit from the Baynard parents

- But Mr. Baynard makes a subtle joke letting her know that the family is aware 

- Jerry only talks about her constantly

- Diana seems relieved by this

- She doesn’t worry anymore when she dances with Jerry

- Or when she asks him to walk her home

- Or when she holds his hand as they leave the Baynard house

- And even though she already knew no one was watching, she still doesn’t worry when she pecks him on the check when they arrive at her house

- Jerry freezes after that

- It takes him a full minute to move again and start the long journey home

- Later that week Diana is complaining about her mother

- “Anne said it was her favorite book so of course I read it.”

- She tells Jerry

- “And I loved it, Jane is such a powerful character. But of course my mother noticed the book on my bedside table and went mad.”

- Jane Erye is, according to Diana’s mother, a reckless story with a vulgar, improper, and anti-christian heroine.

- “Isn’t that just like her?”

- Diana asks

- Jerry stays silent

- “Jerry?”

- “Sorry”

- He explains

- “It’s only, I do not know. I still have only met her once.”

- Diana can hear the question 

- She knows he won’t actually ask

- He knows he’s not the kind of boy she’s supposed to be with

- But Diana still hears it

- She still hears the silent insistence

- ‘You’ve met my family, when can I met yours?’

- That’s when Diana makes the decision.

- She leaves the Cuthbert farm with a new resolve that evening.

- The next day she stops Jerry as he was leaving the farm.

- “Walk me home?”

- She asks

- Jerry looks at her curiously

- She should be home already by now

- But he’d never refuse her

- So Jerry walks Diana home

- He stops where they usually do, much before the door of the house

- Diana keeps walking

- “Aren’t you coming?”

- She asks

- “Tu veux quoi?”

- Jerry replies

- “I want you to meet my family. Join us for dinner.”

- Jerry is hesitant

- He knows the Barry’s will not approve

- He doesn’t want to lose Diana for this

- But he still can’t refuse her

- And that’s how Jerry Baynard ends up inside the Barry house for dinner

- He’s not even dressed in nice clothes

- (Not that he has many ‘nice’ clothes)

- But he’s still wearing the jacket he wore to work that morning

- Mrs. Barry seemed surprised by his arrival

- But she didn’t say anything

- Not at first anyway

- So Jerry sat with the four Barry’s at a very fancy table

- With very fancy food

- And very fancy dishes

- And very fancy napkins

- Feeling completely out of place

- Mrs. Barry attempts to make conversation but it is terribly awkward

- Minnie May ask Diana if Jerry was her suitor

- And Mrs. Barry answered before Diana could

- “Now don’t be absurd.”

- Jerry paled

- He knew that would happen

- He wasn’t rich

- He didn’t have very fancy things

- He wasn’t the one Diana would be with in the end

- He knew that

- But it still hurt to be reminded

- Diana cleared her throat

- “Actually, mother, Jerry and I have been courting of sorts.”

- Jerry thinks Mrs. Barry might actually pass out

- Mr. Barry turns red

- Jerry thinks Mr. Barry might want to punch him

- Mr. Barry goes to stand, but Mrs. Barry stops him.

- She takes a deep breath

- “Diana, come to the other room. We must speak.”

- Diana and the Barry parents leave

- Jerry is sat alone with Minnie May

- He feels sick

- And the Barry house is huge

- Obscenely so

- So Jerry assumed the Barry Parents and Diana would have gone far enough away that he wouldn’t be able to hear them

- But he was wrong

- Jerry Baynard sat in a strange house and listened to the parents of the girl he loved explain to her why he was unfit for her

- Which hurt

- But it hurt even more when he heard the girl he loved reply

- “Why the all of the sudden rebellion?”

- Mrs. Barry had asked

- And Diana said

- “I want to know what it’s like to be free. Normal.”

- Jerry really thought he’d be sick then

- Minnie May looked at Jerry and said possibly the only thing that would make him feel worse

- “Don’t worry, mama says this is just one of Diana’s phases. It’ll be over soon.”

- It will be, won’t it?

- Jerry thought

- He left

- He knew it was impolite

- He knew he should thank the Barry’s for their hospitality

- But instead he quickly left the very fancy house

- And ran home to the small but familiar and comfortable building her called his home

- The next day he went to work at the Cuthbert farm

- Because he had to work

- And he prayed he wouldn’t see Diana

- But of course she would show up there after school

- Of course she would

- Even though Jerry was certain her parents probably forbade her from seeing him

- “I’m sorry about last night.”

- She said when she found him in the barn

- “Do not worry about it.”

- Jerry isn’t trying to seem harsh

- Or maybe he is

- He doesn’t know how to feel

- But he does know it hurts to look at Diana

- “I knew they wouldn’t approve but I thought… If you were there… Maybe they’d be polite.”

- Something inside of Jerry burns at that

- “They shouldn’t worry about me.”

- He knows he’s going to regret it

- He knows he should shut up

- But something pushes him to continue

- “I’m only a phase, are I not?”

- And Diana looks so hurt

- And Jerry immediately wants to swallow those words

- But he also knows that they hold some truth

- Because Diana doesn’t contradict him

- She doesn’t try to defend herself

- She puts her head down

- Jerry thinks maybe she’s crying

- She takes a minute

- And then she replies

- Softly

- Jerry almost doesn’t hear her

- “You are a rebellion, Jerry. But you were never a phase.”

- And then she stands

- Collects her things

- And leaves

- And Jerry doesn’t run after her

- He knows that this is an important moment

- Maybe it’s the last time he’ll ever talk to Diana

- Maybe it’s just their first fight and they’ll resolve it

- Maybe they’ll be awkward towards each other from now on

- Maybe he see her years later at Anne’s wedding

- Maybe he’ll meet her fiance

- Maybe she’ll save him a dance

- Jerry realizes all of these possibilities

- But at the moment

- The only thing he can manage to do is to keep working

- Keep shoveling hay

- Try and not to think about it

- Because Jerry couldn’t start crying

- Not now

- Not today

- Not over her

[dyscrasia-eucrasia]

Part 1

Next>>

"Hey, uh, so we're Bacchus," the lead singer said, leaning into the microphone. Immediately, Angel doubted the rumors he'd heard. No way this guy was related to Marius. He had none of Marius' charisma. He hunched his shoulders, spoke softly, and stumbled over his words. His long hair looked like it hadn't been washed in a day or two, and he had a ratty goat beard. He wore an Iron Maiden shirt that, even under the bar's shitty stage lights, looked extremely faded. 

Sure, he was wearing fuzzy pants and a pair of curled ram's horns that looked especially realistic, but that just made him seem even more like a weak imitation. It was like he'd chosen curled horns specifically to throw people off the fact that he was riding on Marius' coat tails. 

The drummer looked even more out of place. She was a sturdy-looking woman, with long blonde hair cut into blunt bangs. She hadn't even dressed the part of a member of a heavy metal band, wearing an anime t-shirt and jeans. 

And that was it for the band. No bass player, no keyboardist. Just drums and a guitar. 

Angel leaned back against the bar, thinking to himself that this was gonna suck. 

The lead singer looked back at the drummer and nodded. She counted off on her sticks and the crowd got a little quieter. 

And then the entire bar was hit by a wall of sound. The drums were wild and frenetic, some of the best Angel had ever heard. But they paled in comparison to the guitar. The lead singer was absolutely shredding it, going faster and harder than anyone Angel had ever seen live. The bar erupted into cheering, and a scuffle of moshing started down by the stage. 

Then the singer opened his mouth and began to sing, and Angel felt like he would've been knocked over if he weren't leaning against the bar. The singer's voice was a deep baritone that reverberated across the venue. Angel wasn't even hearing it, but feeling it rattle his sternum. 

The singer finished a verse and launched into a wild guitar solo, his hair flying around him as he banged his head to the beat. The awkwardness of his introduction melted away, and he became a commanding figure on the stage, despite how slim and gangly he was. 

He straightened again, grabbing the mic, and launched into a harsh growl that came up from his chest. The crowd went absolutely wild, and Angel's head began to spin. It was like he was drunk, but also like he was horny, but also like he wanted to grab someone's head and smash it into a brick wall. He could see down in the mosh pit that elbows were flying, faces were getting bloody, and no one seemed to care. 

The band went through an entire set, but time had stopped meaning anything at some point and all the songs bled together. Angel could pick out some of the lyrics, things about gods and monsters and heroes. It was messy and violent, but at the same time somehow painfully erotic, and the audience was hooked on every line. 

Then, suddenly, it was over. "Thank you," the singer shouted into the mic, "like I said, we're Bacchus, thanks to Rattlesnake for having us open for them, they're great guys. We'll be up by the bar for the rest of the night, come buy a shirt or buy us a beer or something, ya fuckin' animals." 

That was right, they weren't even the headliner act. The rest of the bar screamed in excitement for Rattlesnake, but for Angel, it was like a spell had broken. All the awe and energy he'd felt was sapped away in an instant, the minute the band left the stage. Who the fuck even cared about Rattlesnake, anyways? 

He could see now why there were rumors that the lead singer of Bacchus was related to Marius. Marius' style was different, more polished, more theatrical, but they had the same sort of resonance to their voice, and similar guitar work. Not like they were copycats of one another, more like they came from the same musical family. 

Angel slumped onto a bar stool, exhausted. He hadn't even joined the pit - it would look pretty bad, showing up for work with bruises - but he still felt like he'd been beat within an inch of his life. 

He was just thinking about leaving when he looked over and saw the band's lead singer - he was hard to miss, towering over even the biggest of guys - down at the end of the bar, ordering. Based on the way the crowd had reacted to him, Angel would've assumed he'd be swarmed by fans, but he was pretty much alone. A quick scan of the crowd showed that the drummer was sitting at a merch table, chatting with someone, but her side of the table was a ghost town, while a large knot of people were in line for the Rattlesnake side. 

Angel had never actually approached any musicians after shows. It just seemed too needy, too parasocial. He was approached by enough weirdoes after work himself to not want to put someone else in that position. But the lead singer was magnetic. Angel couldn't understand how he wasn't surrounded by people begging for his attention. 

He got down off his barstool and made his way over to the singer. 

"Hey!" He shouted at the bartender above the noise. "Whatever he's having, I'll pay for it," he pointed at the singer. "And give me one, too." 

The singer looked genuinely surprised by the gesture. "Hey, thanks dude," he shouted. 

"Great set," Angel shouted back. "I'm Angel, by the way." 

"Demie," the singer replied, holding out a hand. Now that Angel was right next to him, he realized just how big Demie was. He was built like a twig, but he stood at least 6'6", if not taller, and his hand was like a shovel. It completely enveloped Angel's when he shook it. 

"What was the name of that third song you played?" Angel shouted. "That really fast one?" 

"That one's called 'Wrath of Mars," Demie hollered back. 

"It's really good," Angel shouted. 

"Thanks. I wrote it for my brother, actually." 

"Your brother wouldn't be Marius, would he?" Angel shouted as the bartender put two pints on the bar in front of them. Mars, Marius. Angel felt like he was connecting the dots.

"Uh… yeah, actually," Demie said. His skin was dark - not tanned, but more of a deep olive - but Angel thought he saw his cheeks go a little red. 

There was an explosion of shouting from down by the stage as Rattlesnake took the stage. 

"These guys any good?" Angel shouted, pointing a thumb over his shoulder to the band. 

"Yeah, I mean, if you like country-metal fusion," Demie shouted back. 

"Sounds weird." 

"It is." 

The band started up with some twangy guitar that sounded like something out of a spaghetti western. It wasn't really doing it for Angel. They didn't sound nearly as good as Bacchus had. 

"Hey, uh," he put a hand on Demie's shoulder, standing on his toes to be closer to his ear. "You wanna go outside for a while? I'd love to hear more about your band." 

Demie gave him a quizzical, 'you serious?' kind of look. He glanced over to the merch booth. His drummer was pretty much alone, messing around on an old smartphone. 

"Yeah, sure," he said, grabbing his beer first. 

"So you're really related to Marius, huh?" Angel said as they stepped out of the bar into the cool spring evening. 

"Yeah, he's my older brother," Demie replied. 

"So… what, is this like, some kind of sibling rivalry? Your brother made it big so now you're trying to catch up?" 

"Fuck no," Demie muttered as he took a swig of beer. "Nah, Mar taught me how to play the guitar. We used to all be one band, me, him, and Elaine. We all got the offer to sign with Maggot Records but I backed out at the last minute, and Elaine wouldn't agree to move out West and go on tour without me." 

"So, Elaine… that's your drummer?" 

"Yeah."

"Is she like… your girlfriend…?"

"What? Fuck, no, she's my roommate. We've been friends since we were like ten, she's like a sister." 

"Sorry, sorry," Angel laughed. 

"S'cool," Demie said, continuing to drink. 

"So… I know you said it wasn't a sibling rivalry, but I gotta admit… I think you two are actually better than Marius." 

A crease formed between Demie's eyebrows, but otherwise his face was static. On stage, while singing, he'd been overcome with energy and emotion, but off stage he came off as extremely stoic. Had Angel met him in any other context, he never would've guessed he was a singer, his voice was so monotonous. 

"Don't get me wrong, I'm a huge fan of your brother. That's the whole reason I came out to this show, I'd been hearing rumors that you were related to him for months. But he's really… Marilyn Manson, y'know? Really focused on the aesthetic. He's a good musician, but you've got the better voice and better guitar skills." 

"Thanks," Demie said, shifting his feet awkwardly. Angel couldn't help but look down at them and wonder. He'd seen those goat-feet high heels before, and they looked uncomfortable as hell. He had to give Demie props for wearing them even after he got off stage. That was dedication. 

"Hey, don't take this the wrong way," Demie said, "but you really don't seem like the kinda person who'd like our music." 

"What does someone who likes your music seem like?" Angel asked. 

"I dunno, like… all those Viking looking motherfuckers." 

"No offense, but you don't really look that much like a Viking yourself." 

Demie snorted. "Fuck no, I'm Greek. I fuckin' hate all that Nordic shit, like half of them are Nazis. And their mythology fucking sucks." 

"Y'know, I thought I made out something about Odysseus in one of your songs," Angel said. 

"Yeah, it's only like… the invention of Western literature, or whatever," Demie said, then drained his pint glass.

"No, it's cool. I liked it. Most metal bands sing about Satan or their D&D groups, it's cool to hear something different. I mean, I expected you to sing about Satan, but…" 

"Nah, man, Christians fucking took Satan from the Greeks. They had to find a way to get all these Pagans to stop believing in their Gods, so they made Pan into Satan. They took Hades from us, too. Like the Jews, they don't even have an afterlife, that was all the Christians trying to absorb Greco-Roman Paganism." 

"Wow. I didn't know that. I mean, I'm Vietnamese, so I know about Christianity and colonialism, but I didn't know about the Greeks. That's wild." 

Demie opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by a shout coming from the door. 

"Jesus Christ, there you are!" The stoutly drummer, Elaine, had popped her head out the door. "I got work in the morning, we gotta get shit into the van and hit the road. Come help me with the drum set." 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," Demie groaned. He turned back to Angel. "Nice talkin' to you, man." 

"Yeah, a pleasure. Hey -- you wanna exchange numbers? You're a cool dude, maybe we could hang out sometime." 

"Oh. Uh… I don't actually got a cellphone, I just got a shitty landline. And I live way out in the sticks, like an hour away." 

"Hey, no, that's cool, no pressure--" 

"Actually, uh…" Demie looked over his shoulder and cupped his hands around his mouth. "HEY! ELAINE! YOU GOT A PEN?" 

"Yeah? Why?" 

"Toss it over here!" 

Elaine grumbled something inaudible but fished a pen out of her jeans pocket and tossed it to Demie. He caught it out of the air and gestured for Angel's hand. 

"I know people hate using the actual phone, but if you wanna call, feel free," he said, scribbling a set of digits on the back of Angel's hand. "Nice meeting you, man." 

With that, he turned and headed back towards the door, his goat shoes clicking on the concrete patio. 

Weird guy, Angel thought. He'd never really met anyone like him. But a few things were obvious - he was talented, he was interesting, and he was definitely gay. And that was enough for Angel to want to keep talking to him.

[cupofteaguk]

if i could tell her

summary: Jung Hoseok is just trying to pass his philosophy class, yet ends up with so much more. 

pairing: hoseok x fem!reader

genre: college au, fake dating au | fluff/angst

warnings: slow burn, hoseok is a fratboy in this fic, this fic is a mash of a tutoring with fake dating what can i say, and yes the title comes from the dear evan hanson musical 

word count: 16k

.

It’s not abnormal to wake up in a space that is not his own, considering his life and what he did just to feel any sort of rush of pleasure, awakening in an apartment and atop a bed with a touch too many scents that only makes the hangover pierce even deeper at his skull. He arises, a groan barely leaving his lips as he sits up, rubbing at his head and looking down to see that he wears nothing under the sheets. Again, all part of the typical one-night-stand escapades he participated in.

However, what is not typical is the way the bed feels cold, empty without the presence of the other figure sleeping opposite of him—someone he almost would not have missed had he had woken up in his own room, someone he might have forgotten had it not been for the vague memory of a girl underneath him, a name he might have been gritting between his teeth in the haze of his lust. Kathy, was it? Or Kat? No, the longer Jung Hoseok sits there, the more confident he grows in the fact that the name certainly had been Karly.

The physical appearance of the girl remains blank on him, no matter how desperately he tries to rack his consciousness, tries to remember the scene of the party and what she did to catch his attention. There must have been something, something hidden within the corners of his mind, perhaps a glance or a smile or a dance move or a joke. Either way, the answer refuses to present itself to Hoseok at the present moment, which is fine because aforementioned Karly is absent to spare him from that awkward situation.

Still, he remains motionless for a few more seconds, counting down to see if the girl—Karly—is perhaps just in the bathroom or making breakfast, doing anything within the apartment that could make an escape on Hoseok’s part awkward. Yet he doesn’t hear anything, fails to make out those telltale signs that leaving would be a bad move. So he straightens up, feet falling upon the carpet with a gentle sigh, and manages to find his clothing littered across the room. Hoseok makes quick work on dressing himself, pulling on his shirt, tugging on his jeans, slowly making his way to the bedroom door and down the hallway. The apartment is quiet, and he is momentarily stunned that this Karly girl would just leave him alone in her home, that she would be so trusting of someone she did not know personally.

That is, until he walks into the kitchen and finds that he is most certainly not alone in the apartment, that there is a certain someone sitting at the kitchen counter—a certain beautiful someone.

“Woah,” Hoseok greets, taking in the sight of you: philosophy textbook propped open and overhard eggs hovering over your lips, hair in a bun with the stray curls cascading down your face, eyes wide and fixated on his frame. If he hadn’t been enduring the aftermaths of a particularly bad hangover, then he’d realize that the gaze you were giving him is one of vague recognition and not a morning after ‘let’s share breakfast and have sex after this’ type of ordeal. He doesn’t really realize anything beyond the fact that you are extremely pretty and while he certainly doesn't remember the act of sleeping with you specifically, he wishes he had. “Are you Karly?”

You actually laugh at that, a beautiful sound that immediately leaves him to believe that he most definitely would have remembered every single second, every single detail, of fucking you. “Karly is my roommate,” You say, shutting the philosophy textbook in front of you. “I’m Y/N.”

The name strikes a bell in his mind, but he lacks the mental capability to place it. He tries for his own laugh, immediately wincing when the noise makes him feel like he's just been struck across the back of the head with a shovel.

You straighten slightly, detecting his discomfort at once as you slide yourself off the bar stool you've been situated at, heading for the overhead cabinets to make a grab for a glass cup. You fill it with water, grabbing a bottle of pills and dumping two out into the palm of your hand before resting both on the opposite end of the counter. “Here, those should help,” You say, gesturing to the items before residing yourself back on the stool.

He manages another laugh, one much smaller and is really more of just a breath of air escaping his lips. “You seem very familiar with all of this,” He notes quietly, approaching the counter and grabbing the pills.

He lowers the glass of water, only to find that you are staring intently at him. “You think you’re the first guy to sleep with Karly?”

He doesn’t know how to answer the question, or if he’s meant to answer it at all. You give him one last lingering look before opening your philosophy textbook once more, clearly comfortable with the silence that has grown between the two of you once again. Hoseok finds that he doesn't necessarily mind watching you read, finding that you have this little crinkle between your eyebrows to show your level of concentration, how easy it is for you to tune him out, and he can feel the corner of his lips quirking up.

“I was referring to you,” He says at last, voice lightening up slightly as he leans across the counter and for a moment, it feels as if he’s back to being Jung Hoseok—too many parties under his belt, too many girls to keep him grounded, believing he could get anyone and everyone with just the right presentation of words. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around, although I’m sure I would have remembered if I had.”

If you’re impressed (or unimpressed) with his attempt to stir some sort of reaction out of you, he doesn't get the satisfaction of a response. Instead, you flip through a few pages of your textbook, barely sparing him a glance, as if Karly’s one-night-stands hitting on you was something you were only entirely too use to. Finally, you look up at him. “If you forgot that I sit next to you in philosophy, Hoseok, I doubt you’d be able to remember me under any other context.”

The smile on your face shows just how little remorse you hold for him, as if you had been expecting him to lack the ability to place you in his life. The news is certainly a surprise, which is why the best thing he can manage is a very intelligent, very coherent: “What?”

You jut your chin out a little. “Philosophy with Professor Tong? Every Monday and Wednesday?”

He knits his eyebrows together, searching his mind. “Yeah, but no, I think you’re mistaken. I always fall asleep in that class and on the rare occasion that I don’t, the girl who sits next to me aces every exam, highlights all her notes, and has some sort of dumb flower notebook—oh.”

He bites his tongue when you grab something from underneath your philosophy textbook, flashing the flower notebook straight from his memories and immediately making him feel vaguely like a jerk. Mistaking someone for someone else isn't necessarily the best way to start a relationship. “Do you mean this dumb flower notebook?” You inquire, tilting your head to the side, throwing it back down onto the table. “I just like to be organized and pass my classes.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Hoseok says, at least having the decency to show a level of guilt at the downward spiral his conversation with you is going. “But, I mean, is it fair to hold me against the fact that I didn’t know we had class together? Like I said, I fall asleep most of the time, and it’s not like I’m trying to get on a name-to-name basis with any of my peers. We’ve probably never even spoken to each other before—!”

“We’ve had class discussions a bunch of times,” You interrupt dryly, gaze having resumed back to your textbook, although he doesn’t remember seeing you look down. “You once told me that the two kinds of evils are alcohol poisoning and when girls say they’re fine.”

“Well, am I wrong?”

You exhale in a laugh, shaking your head and rolling your eyes without contempt, not seeming to mind his inexperience on the subject matter, which only makes his own heart speed up slightly at your surprisingly playful attitude. “I suppose not, from a subjective standpoint.” Then you shift in your seat, making a grab for the cup of water you have rested along the side of the counter. You take a sip, flickering your gaze up to see Hoseok using the silence to take a sip of his own water. “I guess I shouldn’t be holding the whole ‘I don’t know what’s going on in class’ deal, otherwise I’m assuming you’d be freaking out a bit more about our exam coming next in a few days.”

Hoseok chokes on his water, coughing violently as the liquid travels down the wrong pipe and he desperately longs to find his breath again. You watch in silence, watching the way he lightly pats his chest, watching the way he takes deep inhales and exhales to calm his heart to regain control his body.

“You okay there?” You inquire.

Hoseok coughs one last time. “W-We have an exam in a few days?” He asks, raising his head to meet your gaze.

“Yep,” You say, your lips coming together to pop the p at the end of the word. You make work on picking up that dreadful flower notebook and flipping through some pages until you come across what you’re looking for. Turning the notebook at a 180 degree, you slide it across towards Hoseok. “We also have an essay due at midnight on Friday. Altogether, it’s worth about thirty percent of our grade—!”

“Shit,” Hoseok curses under his breath, taking in the long list of different concepts, theories, names, studies, and readings that will be on the upcoming exam—all of which he knows absolutely nothing about. “What’s the essay about?”

“Something about if criminals should be held morally responsible for their actions,” You say with the shrug of your shoulders, as if you’ve already finished the essay and have been finished with the essay for weeks now.

Hoseok is quiet, and must be quiet for a beat too long before you lean forward on the counter, immediately giving the boy a whiff of your scent: kind of floral and sweet and light and he’s floored from the sensation. How could someone smell this good first thing in the morning? Immediately, his mind starts to wander—he wonders if you wore perfume, what kind, and what you included in your laundry detergent. He wonders about your morning routine, if you had a boyfriend, what your major was, why he had never noticed you before, how you managed to stay alert in all your classes. He wonders if you work, if you did other things to occupy your time and he wants it all, he wants to be a part of your life more if it means getting to see you eat egg in the morning or getting to watch you tie your hair up in this bun, if it means getting a whiff of your scent over coffee.

“Hoseok, are you alright?”

He blinks, barely able to catch you staring at him, a flicker of curiosity in your eyes, before he’s turning away and forcing himself to study the Philosophy terms that might as well be Chinese characters for all the sense they were making to him. “Y-Yeah, sorry, I guess I got caught up in all this work and just started blanking out…”

You lean back in your chair, taking back the scent and he thinks he can officially put a label on the flower you’ve taken after. Definitely lavender.

“It is a lot,” You agree. He catches you furrowing your eyebrows out of the corner of his eyes and he wonders what idea you are brewing up in that mind of yours. “If you want, I could give you some pointers for the essay and help you study for the exam. It’ll be difficult because there’s only a few days until the test, but we can try our best.”

“Would you really?” He inquires incredulously, snapping his head up to meet your gaze. You aren’t entirely looking at him, your eyes are shifted elsewhere and he wonders how often you actually go out of your way to do this—to offer your help to someone like him who is in desperate need of it. That thought fills his heart with the sensation of… something. For now, he just decides to think of it as gratefulness. “Y-Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks a lot.”

The pair of you lock eyes across the counter and he watches the way you run your tongue over your lower lip for a moment before your teeth come out to gnaw at the soft flesh. Your gaze is broken by a distraction that seems to catch your attention because you’re flickering your gaze down to your phone.

It doesn’t matter if whatever on your phone holds any importance to you; it’s enough to break Hoseok out of his reserve, to let reality come crashing down. What was he doing? Yeah, he knows that he’s just taken up the offer on homework help from someone who clearly knows what’s going on, but what happens after that? Hoseok is not blind to all the social aspects of groups and circles that only continue to remain loosely true in college—there’s a reason why the pair of you have never interacted or have never crossed paths. It’s because both of you ran in two completely different social circles and just had interests that didn’t normally correlate with one another. The only reason the pair of you have crossed paths in the first place is because you just so happened to have a roommate that didn’t think twice about pushing her way into Hoseok’s life.

Yoongi would probably reprimand him for overthinking the situation. It’s not like there was anything that was going to happen with you and Hoseok—you’re just a peer who is going to help him get through the next few days of Philosophy. The fact that you’re cute and attractive and give off a positive first impression, one that leads him to think that there’s more substance to you than most girls he meets who are just looking for a quick fuck, is something that he’ll have to work around. But he needs to pass this class, if only to keep him on track for graduation. After all, keeping his feelings in check shouldn’t be too hard right?

Right?

.

The following day is Sunday, officially five days before Doomsday aka a Philosophy exam and an essay that the boy has absolutely no confidence over. Still, he remembers what he has to do and he values the importance of his assignment as well as recognizes the sacrifices you’re making to help him out. So he shows up at your apartment—partially retracing his steps from memory and partially following the directions you’ve given him on a slip of paper.

Pulling out aforementioned piece of paper, he sees the address as well as your phone number scribbled down underneath. The paper itself is slightly crumpled from Hoseok having to pry the slip out of his roommate’s grabby hands just to make sure that Jimin didn’t try to look you up on Facebook after the former boy let it slip that he thought you were ‘slightly more than attractive’.

He doesn’t put too much thought into why he had been so insistent on making sure that Jimin couldn’t find a way to open any lines of communication with you. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t want to distract you, make you uncomfortable, expose you into his world—or maybe he just wants to keep you to himself, keep you his little secret. He thinks he knows the answer, but he refuses to admit it.

Instead, he finds your apartment, checking the number a few times just to make sure, before knocking on the door. It takes a second, and for a moment he worries that he had gotten the time wrong in his haste to see you and get started on the tutoring—or, really, just to see you in general, probably without even realizing it. Luckily, the door swings open to reveal a familiar figure that most definitely is not you but—!

“O-Oh hey,” Hoseok greets at the girl on the other side, not you but your roommate who he knows he fucked the other night but cannot seem to remember her name for the sudden life of him.

The girl smirks, and he runs his mind through a mental list of potential names. Kathy? Fuck, no, that wasn’t it. Katherine? No, that sounds even worse. “Jung Hoseok,” She greets, leaning against the doorframe. There’s something like actual surprise in her eyes and he gets the feeling that maybe you left your roommate out of the loop regarding his return to the apartment. “What brings you back here? I thought you didn’t take second rounds?”

Hoseok, who had not been expecting to get an invite to sex today, can feel himself flushing deeply at the offer. The girl at the door is right, he rarely ever comes by for repeats. He’s about to open his mouth to reject the offer, before another voice cuts in, one that he finds himself visibly relaxing to despite the relationship it holds in his life.

“Karly!” You exclaim, appearing by your roommate’s side at once. He breaths in a little because yes of course, that’s her name. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Y/N,” Karly returns, breaking eye contact to stare over at you. “I don’t know if you guys have ever met before, but this is Jung Hoseok—!”

“I know,” You interject, flickering your gaze over to him only to find that he is still staring at you. “I invited him over—I’m helping him with Philosophy.”

It doesn’t take long for the passes of embarrassment to start flickering across Karly’s face at how she had assumed Hoseok’s visit was for something under completely different circumstances. It looks like she wants to protest, whisper accusations to you, do anything to take the target of tension off her back, but she merely settles with flickering her gaze between you and Hoseok. A muffled “huh” escapes her lips, but she steps away from the doorframe and allows the boy to step through.

You grumble something about grabbing your laptop from your room before turning down the hall and leaving Hoseok with Karly. For a moment, neither of them say anything, just basking in the awkward silence and knowledge that they definitely fucked yet not being able to remember the experience. Not that Hoseok actually wants to—especially now that you’re in his life, even if temporarily.

Even with the tension, even though he is the last person to know anything about Karly, it’s easy to see that she’s weighing something in her mind, preparing herself to say whatever it is that’s occupying her thoughts. Considering what she had said the last time she let her mouth run, Hoseok finds that he almost panics at the thought of having to answer a question, statement, or observation from her.

Once more, he finds himself comforted by the sight of you appearing from the hallway, the laptop tucked underneath your arm and the words absentmindedly slipping between your lips. “So, Hoseok, I think we should start with you telling me what you know so we can start to work around that…” You flicker your gaze up to find Karly still in the same room. You raise an eyebrow. “Karly, don’t you have a group project meet up today?”

The question starts Karly out of her trance as she fishes out her phone, curses, and dashes into her room. There is a moment in which neither you nor Hoseok breath a word to each other, that silence broken when Karly comes rushing back out. She yells something out that sounds vaguely like: “See you tonight” before it is followed by a slam of the door.

You give him a smile. “I hope she didn’t say anything to you.”

He shrugs, saying the first thing on his mind, one that so happens to be: “I don’t think there’s anything worse than knowing that you fucked someone, yet not remembering what that had been like.”

In spite of the bluntness of the statement, you can’t help but laugh. Or, maybe, his candor is what stirs up that breathy exhale from between your lips in the first place. “That does sound pretty awkward already.”

“Oh, what, like you’ve never done that before?” He inquires, the question meant to be light-hearted and a joke; but the suddenly tight smile you deliver makes him think he had to go and step out of the line. Again.

“Not really,” You say, shrugging your shoulders after a moment. The gesture looks like an afterthought. You turn slightly so that your back is facing him, indicating that follow up questions would not be allowed on the subject, even if for teasing that you most likely would not think is funny.

Why couldn’t he seem to get it right with you?

“So, like I was saying before, since our exam is going to cover chapters one to five, why don’t you tell me what content you are familiar with so we can at least try to build a foundation around that.”

Hoseok falls short at that, nervous both under your observing gaze and his own lack of knowledge in the field. Suddenly, the fact that he doesn’t know anything and that he had spent the past few months either skipping class or just not attending it only becomes more and more clear to him the longer he sits there.

You only continue to stare at him, watching him, waiting for any sort of response from him in regards in your question. He wonders what you’re thinking—if you think he’s stupid or irresponsible or wasteful of money and time. Yet, there’s nothing in your eyes that hold distaste or dissatisfaction, even when you raise an eyebrow at him. “It’s okay if you aren’t familiar with anything, you know.”

“No, it’s just,” Hoseok starts, although he doesn’t know what he’s trying to say. You’re trying to spare him the embarrassment of the truth, the truth that he doesn’t remember anything from class, but his desire to prove you wrong is too overwhelming. To keep himself busy, he flips open the notebook he’s got reserved for this class, immediately landing upon a page full of words and lines and scribbles that dance back and forth across the surface. At first, he feels something akin to curiosity and confusion because he does not remember taking an ounce of relevant notes throughout the course but the longer he stares at it and takes in the words, the longer it takes for the realization of what the words in between these edges mean and he’s about to slam the notebook shut and write himself away forever but—! “Uh…” Hoseok starts, but you beat him to it.

“What’s this?” You inquire, already long since having leaned over to study whatever is written across his notebook. Hoseok doesn’t pull away or snap or do anything, really, he just sits there and lets your gaze flint across the pages and lets the realization dawn upon you that the notes he’s taken are not philosophy or remotely academic based at all but are more poetic and lyrical and string together a little too perfectly for these to be mere afterthoughts or something he only did when he was bored. So you open your mouth, your curiosity blocking away the social norm that mentions how maybe asking about something pressed between the spaces of a notebook were a touch too personal to bring up. Yet you do it anyways: “Are these poems?”

He winces. “Close, uh, they’re song lyrics.”

You flicker your gaze up and he jumps. When did you get so close? “You’re a lyricist?”

“Not a professional one,” He brushes off. “Hopefully one day I can be though.”

You hum thoughtfully, eyes continuing to roam across the page he has opened on the table. For a moment, you don’t pry or flip through the pages or even touch the notebook. You don’t even look like you’re trying to soak in every word, which he almost finds odd. Any other person in Hoseok’s life would have done anything to catch more of his personal life, especially since he kept a majority of his feelings and his past under wraps. But even after realizing what lay underneath the cover of his notebook, he doesn’t feel that painful desperation to hide the words and emotions from you.

He wonders if it’s because of the trusting, open, honest, naive look that shines like the daylight in your eyes, the fact that you’ve already caught him at his worse (aka his walk of shame and discovering his shitty work ethic) and he feels as if there’s not as much to lose around you.

“Well, you are very talented,” You point out quietly, leaning back into your chair and delivering him with the kind of smile that doesn’t have him doubting the truth of your statement.

Still, his lips twist up into a faint, rare, smile. “Really?”

You seem to understand the gravity of his expression, must know that the boy who lives in his laughter and smirks and lips pressing together didn’t just hand out smiles for free, because the corner of your own mouth curls up right back at him. “Yeah.” Neither of you say anything, too caught up in this moment, in basking under the fact that your smile reminds him of starlight and all good things, and he wonders why he wanted to write you off and out of his life after that first class because he already knew that you were different than him. Sometimes, different could be good. Better, even.

You are the first to clear your throat, resuming your attention back to your laptop and opening it. “R-Right,” You start. “So, philosophy.” You train your gaze on the screen intensely enough that Hoseok can feel himself shifting in his own seat. “I guess, even just to stay safe, we should start at the beginning.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok manages, looking down to study his fingers, long and lean, and bony around the knuckles but also so lonely on its own. “That’ll probably be best.”

“Alright,” You continue with the nod of your head, turning your laptop and he arches an eyebrow to find that you had started constructing a powerpoint for him. “Chapter one is about questions concerning God…”

.

It’s no secret that Hoseok hates philosophy and education in general with the fiery passion of a thousand suns—especially considering that his interests hardly corresponded with a field of general eds or speciality classes that the university offered. He didn’t need another class telling him how to download producing softwares that he’s been using since high school. He needs an internship, but he also needs the grades and the time management skills and the sports and his current job just to try and stay afloat before thinking about changing things up.

Given that he targets the academics as one of the many seeds of stress in his life, it’s no surprise that he barely finds the willpower to enjoy lectures and studying and tests, although this is a pretty common factor that resides with him and a majority of his friends. It’s hard for him to think that anyone could find the subjects taught at school fun.

But, then again, he really hadn’t met anyone like you—someone who could be so passionate about something yet not be annoying about it. He doesn’t know what it is, he doesn’t know if it’s his own desperation to have a grasp on philosophy or the fact that you’re actually kind of cute when you’re going on and on about freedom and determinism that could potentially be clouding his judgment. He doesn’t know what it is, yet it hardly matters because he’s actually enjoying learning about the different concepts and theorists and finds that he’s learning more in just three days than the three months that he’s been enrolled in the class.

Maybe it’s because the one-on-one interaction actually forces him to pay attention, or maybe it’s because you’re actually an attentive tutor who possesses the ability to explains things with such ease that his brain just naturally makes the connections.

Or, maybe, above all, it’s the fact that getting to spend time in your apartment, even if for schooling purposes, means getting to know you in all its minor details that you let slip or things that he just so happens to take note of. Like how excited you get when he is able to apply certain concepts perfectly to the topic being discussed, or how you use both your hands to cover your mouth when you yawn, or how you twirl your pencil between your fingers whenever you’re distracting or lost in your thoughts.

He finds that you’re also an extremely caring and compassionate individual, seen especially in the way you never fail to check up on him through various text messages or even when he’s sitting right next to you in your apartment.

You’re good at making him feel good about himself, about allowing him to feel positively about his academic accomplishments no matter how big or small they may be, which is why the pair of you are able to go through the five chapters as quickly as the pair of you do. Even with his other classes, homeworks assignments, work obligations—much like you—he finds that he looks forward to a new day and a new lesson from you. The confidence you instill in him, that he is able to instill in himself, provides as a turning point that guides him to your front door Thursday morning, that guides him to say, “I’m ready for that essay” as soon as you open the door. It’s the first time he takes such an initiation in the assignments, but it’s worth seeing the grin that overtakes your features.

“What’s so funny?” He inquires, slipping in through the opened door and setting his backpack down on the table so he can discard his jacket.

“Nothing!” You retort, trailing closely behind him. “I’m glad that you’re ready to work on the essay, even though it’s due tomorrow night. And we should do a review of everything you learned just to make sure you have everything down.”

“Wow, you can’t just let me have my moment, can’t you sweetheart?” He teases, deciding at the last second to add in the nickname he’s started addressing you by after the third day after he accidentally let it slip and you had merely laughed to show your indifference to the name. In a way, labeling you with such an intimate nickname to no protest solidifies the strange relationship you and Hoseok developed, one that had been created within the four walls of confinement.

“Not until you pass your exam,” You return back with a teasing curl to your lips. He’s use to seeing this part of you now after managing a crack in your facade, one of the joys of being within your company for long stretches of time not occupied with work or classes or other assignments.

It leaves almost a strange tickling, eating sensation at the pit of his stomach, where he doesn’t know what’s going to happen after the exam passes him by. He had told himself in the beginning that he wasn’t going to let his feelings cloud his judgment, but he hadn’t predicted you would be so easy to get along with, that you would know more about him than some of his friends, that he would have been able to keep that emotional distance from you. You’re way too funny and energetic and alive to stay away from.

You keep up that same level of cheer and support from the side as Hoseok starts to cram down on his essay. You stay up with him to assist him with potential flashcards or last minute questions about theories, offering help in regards to new topics he could indulge into for this five-page essay on moral obligation. You bring your chair closer to his in order to read over his shoulder—the scent of lavender and the additional coconut conditioner from your shower only continuing to soothe him. You fall asleep on his shoulder, and he wonders what he had done to deserve you in such a vulnerable state.  

.

A week shouldn’t often be considered a long period of time, especially when looking at the grand scheme of life and the existence of human existence and Earth in the long run. A week is probably just a blink, a second, a millisecond, definitely not enough to leave a claim or a mark upon anything. However, in spite of that, Hoseok likes to think that within the week (or, technically, five days), he’s been able to spend with you, it’s safe to say that the pair of you could consider each other friends. Or, at the very least, acquaintances. A pair of individuals with inside jokes and an easy air of understanding between the two of you, in which he thinks that he knows you and your body language and the air around you relatively well.

He’s not going to claim himself an expert on you, that he suddenly knows all the secrets you’ve been hiding from him and from the world, but he feels as if he can read you well enough to know that something is definitely up when he knocks on your apartment door to show off the A- he got on his exam—and you can only return his enthusiasm with a tight-lipped smile.

“Is everything okay?” He asks upon seeing that you weren’t going to celebrate your own amazing tutoring abilities with him, lowering his phone and looking at your expression.

You blink, shaking your head slightly, and giving him a grin that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “O-Oh yeah, sorry, everything is fine. But congratulations.” You reach over to pat him on the shoulder. “See, I knew you could do it. And how about the essay?”

He opens his phone again to find the grade the professor had gifted him with. “B+!” He remarks brightly, following you into the apartment space as you turn around to make your way into the kitchen. “Not bad, you know, considering that I started the day before.”

“It’s amazing what you can do if you put your mind to it,” You say, smiling cheekily, but it still doesn’t reach your eyes and Hoseok wonders if he should be alerted or bothered by the fact that he is very aware of this. Instead, he lets himself continue to ponder about it as he takes a seat at your kitchen table and watches the way you move about the space, the way you fill some glasses with hot water before digging out his favorite tea bags to rest them in the liquid. There is a new kind of silence, the loudest one he’s ever heard and it eats so deeply at his skin that he pushes himself from the table and rounds the counter to approach you.

Without a warning, he gently grabs you by the shoulders to spin you around. At first your eyes are wide with surprise, but they fill with exasperation when Hoseok flicks your forehead.

“Yah!” You retort, pushing at his chest, eyebrows furrowing together. “What was that for?”

“I can practically hear the internal monologue you’re having from the table,” He points out. “And you’re acting weird—weirder than normal.”

You glare at him, shifting slightly to brush your hair back. “I told you, it’s nothing. It’s just… family stuff.” You shrug your shoulder, showing the first genuine signs of emotions today: confliction. It looks like you want to say what is on your mind, that you have to share the depth of your problems with the first willing participant. It momentarily strikes Hoseok in regards to how long you’ve been keeping this issue to yourself, considering that he’s been seeing you every day for the past few days. Rather than comment on it, he just keeps his gaze level with you, willing you to disclose your concerns with him. It works, because you heave in a sigh. “You’ll think it’s stupid.”

The corner of his lips quirk up. “You’re looking at someone who use to think the two kinds of evils were alcohol poisoning and when girls say they’re fine.”

You snort at the memory. “Well, you weren’t ever really wrong. Just from a philosophical standpoint.”

“I’m glad you think so,” He replies, taking in a breath before deciding to reach out and gently touch the top of your head. He can feel your hair underneath his touch, just as soft as he had imagined, but it’s enough to get your attention and help let your guard down long enough. “C’mon, I promise I won’t judge. Out loud.”

“It’s just,” You start. “I have this family gathering tomorrow evening and all my relatives have spent the past few years pressuring me about getting into a relationship so I know that if I show up tomorrow without a boyfriend they’ll get that disapproving look like I’ve failed at my only purpose in life—like I don’t have other things I want to focus on right now. So, yeah, I don’t know, I’ve been debating on what to do for weeks now and I don’t even know if I should show up or not.”

Hoseok chews softly on his own lower lip. He’s never received that type of pressure from his family or friends about going out and getting a girlfriend—mainly because his friends were only too aware of what he preferred doing over the emotional stuff (the thought suddenly brings a nauseous sensation to the pit of his stomach)—and his family probably just entrusted in the hope that he would bring back a girlfriend one day. One day. They know his love for music is more secure than any love he could hold for a singular person. At least, right now.

He stares at you for a moment longer.

“You should probably go,” He points out. “I mean, if you don’t show up, your relatives will just assume that you couldn’t get a boyfriend and that’ll just be giving them all the power and no one wants that.”

“Well, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do then.” You grumble, a bit of a whining complexion to the tone of your voice. “It’s not like there’s a line of guys who’ll want to help me, or anyone that I trust enough not to make a fool of both of us in front of my family.”

Hoseok thinks about it, seeing the truth of your statement. He knows that you’re the type of person who keeps mostly to yourself, not because you didn’t enjoy the company of other individuals surrounding you, but because you were more comfortable on your own. It’s something that he’s been able to pick up, even if in just small pieces and small flashes—whether it be noticing how much calmer you are in the silence or your passing obsession with using headphones and music as a way to hide yourself away from the world.

He’s never taken you as the type of person with an overabundance of friends, but rather someone with a few select close individuals whom you entrusted everything to. Although he finds it hard to be in that position himself, given that it seems like his entire life is just surrounded by other people and finds the thought of being alone… well, lonely, he can’t help but think that lifestyle suits you and your shy smiles and the way you often like to curl up on the couch with a notebook after a particularly long day—!

The offer slips out before he can stop it: “I’ll help you out.”

You blink, staring up at him, eyebrow raised, clearly not understanding the angle that he’s coming from. “What?”

“I could pretend to be your boyfriend for that family event,” He explains, shrugging one of his shoulders and realizing that he cannot bear to look you in the eye. Instead, he fixates his gaze on the electrical outlet directly behind you and hopes that his face is not as red as it feels. There a beat of silence a moment too long, but it feels suffocating and Hoseok scrambles, wondering how long it’ll take him to fling himself out the window of your apartment. “Actually, no, that’s a stupid idea. Forget I said anything, I just thought I’d drop a suggestion—!”

“No, no, it’s not a stupid idea!” You retort a bit too quickly yourself, and it shows in your expression. You bite your lip, swallowing thickly, and can’t look him in the eye either. “I-I mean, we’ve spent all this time together so it wouldn’t be too different from our interactions right now.”

“R-Right,” He says, unsure if he’s trying to convince himself or you because he had promised himself a week ago that he would do well in keeping his feelings in check and when that clearly hadn’t worked, any normal or sane person would know that the next solution would be to step away to try and write away those emotional attachments so what the fuck is he doing? Offering to be your boyfriend for a day—was he serious? “I mean, actually, I don’t know if it’s a good idea. I don’t know how well of a boyfriend I could be, I’m not good with the whole relationship thing.”

“Me either,” You shrug, although your reasoning is a whole lot different from his. “We can just figure it out together, we have a whole twenty-four hours before the gathering.” You meet his gaze, looking a whole lot calmer and reassured than you had seconds ago, which is interesting considering that Hoseok still looks like he’s just been challenged to duel with a bear. “Hoseok, please? I don’t really trust anyone else right now not to fuck this up.”

“Not fuck this up,” Hoseok echoes, running a hand through his hair, the worry still prevalent although he had been the one to make the suggestion in the first place. The fact that you’re putting all this trust in him only makes him more nervous, more hesitate about letting you down, how he doesn’t want to disappoint you. But it does make his heart race, does fill him with the vaguest sense of pride, which is probably why he can’t turn you down, why he made the offer in the first place, why he keeps coming back to you.

“Please?” Your eyes are wide now, wider than he’s seen them before and you look like you’re about two seconds from grabbing his hands. Not that he would mind that. “I’ll buy you all the tacos you want.”

He scoffs. “Yah, you really think food is going to sway me?”

“If we go to taco trucks, then maybe?” You answer hesitantly. Rather than making a grab for his hands, you lace yours together. “Hoseok, please. Besides, you can’t just drop a life saving suggestion like that and just walk away.” Your eyes light up, which he knows cannot be a good sign. “Plus, you owe me! I helped bump your Philosophy grade up to a B!”

That is true, yet the argument of him owing you a favor is not the reason why he relents, why he lowers his arm and lets out a sigh to feign exasperation. “Fine, fine. I’ll do it.”

Your eyes brighten as you clap your hands together. “Really? Hoseok, thank you, it means so much that you would do this for me.”

You take your time to gaze up at him, bright smile overtaking your features, the gratefulness etched in your eyes and he responds with a pinch to your cheeks.

“I’m just in it for the tacos.”

.

As it turns out, and as one might have guessed, Jung Hoseok definitely does not agree to do anything just for three-dollar tacos that he could just as easily go out during taco truck season and purchase a handful himself. He definitely does not agree to do anything for anyone. Period.

So what the fuck is he doing here, on a Saturday morning, back at your apartment, your hand extended out towards him, fingers curling in slightly the longer he leaves you hanging because this—this—is just too much, too overwhelming, too—!

“Weird!” Hoseok whines, bringing his own hands close to his chest. Your hand is still being offered toward him, your knuckles and skin look soft and the space between your fingers look lonely and a hand has never looked so tempting before and maybe that’s why he’s being so strange and so hesitant. He knows he’s about to bite off more than he can chew, knows that this is all much easier in theory than actual practice, but he can’t help himself.

You roll your eyes without contempt. “C’mon Hoseok, it’s just my hand, it’s not going to bite you or anything.”

“You clearly haven’t been on the receiving end of any of your slaps before,” He bites back, although he doesn’t know why he’s trying to put up such a fight. This had been his idea to start with and his idea to do this with you, yet he’s the one being stubborn about it.

You pout. “Hoseok, this family gathering is in less than ten hours; we need to have at least some kind of practice on hand holding and relationship shit, I don’t want either of us screaming when the other tries to wrap arms around the other’s waist or something.”

“That would be pretty funny though,” Hoseok adds, grinning, the smile diffusing when you shove his shoulder. “Ow, okay, I’m sorry, I’ll be serious now.”

“Good.” You reply, offering your hand towards him once more.

Hoseok flickers his gaze from you to the hand settled between the two of you. He looks down at his own hand, already looking significantly bigger than your own and wonders not for the first time if this would really be a good idea before reaching to overlap his hand with your own. Strangely, the palms fit nicely on top of each other, even as everything around him feels as if it’s slowing down to match the chilling and overwhelming sensation of fingers lacing through the empty spaces.

He can’t tell if he’s sweating or the feeling of his heartbeat increasing dangerously could be felt through the skin. He really doesn’t hope that’s the case, especially since the last time he held hands with a girl was during some middle school theater production which went about as well as one might think—even considering the fact that he hated that girl to death. Now that he’s here, with someone who he most definitely does not hate, holding your hand, the experience is sending his brain in through a haywire.

Still, despite his own feelings to keep himself afloat, he can’t help but bask in the sensation of your touch. He hadn’t even realized how desperately he needed it until this moment, how nice and natural it feels to hold your hand like this, even though your fingers and palm are much smaller in comparison to his. It makes him feel protective and needed, but also reassured and comforted.

“You’re tense,” You point out, giving him a side eye, which is when he realizes that yes, he’s just about as relaxed as a board.

“I’m not,” He says instead, trying to hunch his back slightly to give off the impression of being slightly more composed despite the fire going on in his mind.

“Yes you are!” You fight back, untangling your fingers from his and he has to bite his lip to stop himself from whining at the loss of contact. It’s almost embarrassing how lonely his hand now feels on its own. “Hoseok, you have to loosen up otherwise we’re never going to pull this off.”

He lets out a breath. “I know, I know, I’m sorry. I’m not use to this, okay sweetheart? It’s not like there’s a FAKE RELATIONSHIP RULES FOR DUMMIES book at Barnes and Nobles that we could pick up and skim through.”

You raise an eyebrow at that. “That would be a pretty good idea actually, you think we should go check it out just to make sure—?”

“Y/N.”

You close your eyes, shake your head. “Right, right. Okay. Here, how about we do a little bonding exercise that I learned while at summer camp.” You’re leaning over to the coffee table to make reach for your phone. “It’s where we look at each other for two minutes in complete silence.”

“Uh.” If the thought of holding your hand is more than enough to set Hoseok’s body aflame, then having to stare at you makes worries spring up in his mind. What if you caught his eye and read all the emotions he had tried to stomp away to a place where they would never have to see sunlight again? What if he can’t stop himself from staring at your lips and kissing you or whispering a dreadful secret that usually takes the form of three words?

However, before he can speak the first set of excuses that reach his mind, you’re already setting the two minute timer on your phone and turning to look at him. He’s expecting something dreadful and awkward and flushed cheeks, but once again he finds that he is pleasantly surprised. It’s definitely an unique experience, but it’s not uncomfortable or bothersome by any means. He finds that he cannot simply stare at one place for too long, even though you’re rather good at keeping your eye contact with him. He looks at your eyes, takes in the deep color that threatens to drown him, how he can count the number of specs that dance behind the orbs. Then, he decides to move on, taking in the sloping curve of your eyebrows, the apples of your cheeks, your nose, the cupid’s bow of your lips—!

Panicking, he darts his eyes back up to find yours once more. It’s only two minutes of his life, but the seconds sure seem to stretch out. He watches the way you flicker your gaze between his eyes, an unusual touch hidden within the color, the occasional flicker downwards and he can feel his heart racing and plunging and compressing all in one when he mirrors your gaze and finds that you have been staring at his lips, just as he now is with you—oh fuck—!

The timer goes off.

You blink, pulling yourself away from the situation and bringing your attention to your phone to turn off the timer, leaving Hoseok alone with his thoughts over what had just happened and what could have potentially happened if time had been irrelevant. He leans back on the couch, watching you, trying to will his heart to calm down before facing you again. He allows himself two deep breaths in and out, offering his hand out to you this time.

You catch the gesture out of the corner of your eye and grin, reaching over to take it slowly, lacing the fingers together as if it’s the most natural thing in the world for you to do. “See, that wasn’t so bad.” You look at him, continuing to smile with all teeth and no hesitance, yet there is a longing touch of something crinkling at the corner of your eyes and there is something lopsided about your smile that he finds difficult to ignore.

Yet he does, just managing a smile and he squeezes your hand just enough to keep him grounded. “Yeah.”

.

Even with the brief overview of your family, a simple walk through on how the pair of you met, how long you’ve been together, even when the small practices on hand holding and arms curling around the waist, trying to do enough to plant an air of naturality between the two of you, it doesn’t feel like enough—although Hoseok is sure that all the preparation in the world wouldn’t come close to making him feel any more assured. It makes him wonder why he had decided to engage in something of this degree, why he would dare to make himself pretend to have feelings when he really does but he can’t have you know that. The complication of having to feign emotions that he actually harbors while acting like he doesn’t while he really does is enough to make his head spin.

All he knows is that he cannot seem to stop drumming his fingers, a nervous habit that he developed at a young age and something he just couldn’t seem to write off so here he is years later drumming his fingers on his legs, on the dashboard, against the back of your hand as he pair of you wait on the front porch of your relative’s estate.

“Don’t worry,” You say underneath your breath, as if your entire family could hear you through the door. “You’ll be great. Just don’t try to overthink it—just be yourself.”

Hoseok exhales. “It’s impossible to put ‘being myself’ and ‘overthinking’ in the same sentence.”

You give him a side glare. “You know what I mean.”

He does know what you really mean, but he doesn’t get to say that because the door swings open to reveal a figure who he recognizes to be your mother. “Y/N!” She greets, delivering forth a bright smile even as her gaze slides over and notices Hoseok by your side. “Oh, who’s this?”

You cast him a look. “Uh, mom, this is Hoseok, my boyfriend,” You introduce, turning to look at him again. “Hoseok, this is my mom.”

Your mom claps her hands together, looking ecstatic that you’ve (finally) been able to bring someone to a family gathering, and she isn’t afraid to voice that out loud as she gestures for the pair of you to step inside. A majority of the rooms are filled with groups of people, each engaged in their own conversations, but each take the time to say their hellos as well as bombard poor Hoseok with questions regarding his major, family life, friendships, his plans for the future. These don’t last long, thankfully, because you do well on dragging him away when he feels like he’s about to burst.

He’s too caught up in answering the questions, in trying to come up with decent answers that’ll impress your relatives that he nearly forgets about you until the pair of you are finally alone for the first time in almost an hour, both of you at the buffet table.

He’s in the middle of trying to reach for a wonton when, “Hey.” A nudge right into his rib cage. “Hey.”

“Ouch, what? What is it?” Hoseok returns, suddenly all alerts and careful eyes as he turns his neck slightly to look at you. You’re staring right back at him, taking in his cautious expression and worried front—the same one that he’s had since the start of this gathering. As casual as it may be, and as laid-back as your family actually is, Hoseok still feels like he’s been stepping on pins and needles since the start of this goddamn thing, since the start of the goddamn request that’s gotten him in this mess to begin with, since he discovered you at the kitchen counter in a time that suddenly seems so long ago.

“My aunts and uncles have been staring at you for the past twenty minutes,” You hiss, trying to keep your voice low and smile present, so your relatives would think you and Hoseok were discussing typical romantic relationship shit (whatever the fuck that meant) rather than planning on how to go about continuing to lie to their faces.

“What am I supposed to do about that?”

You give him a side glare. “Shouldn’t you be more… I don’t know, romantic or something? Everyone is looking at you like you’re not doing enough.”

“I’m just doing what you taught me back at the apartment!” He protests, lowering his voice when he sees the warning glint in your eyes. “In case you didn’t realize, sweetheart, I’m just as lost and confused as you are. I’m playing this by ear just as much as you are.”

You make a face at him, one that he returns back with ease, until you’re reaching over to gently pinch his cheek. “Okay, how about this. We’ll just keep walking around, maybe talk to my cousins and my aunt over there. Put your arm around me.”

He sighs, trying desperately to think about all the free tacos you had promised him in exchange for this. He doesn’t try to think about how nice you feel underneath his touch, how warm and comforting and study you feel as you wrap your own arm around his waist, leading him through and making more conversation with your family. Even when the pair of you do find spots to sit at.

Yet, he still feels the impending weight of expectation on his shoulders, provided forth so lovingly from your family that takes the form of lingering stares and flickering eyes in a way that leaves him with the vaguest panic that your family isn’t entirely buying the handholding and quiet behind-the-scene bickering in the corner about how the fuck the pair of you were supposed to pull this off.  

“Hey,” You say again, recapturing his attention as soon as the pair of you break away from the group once more with the excuse to throw away your finished plates, but also to engage in another private conversation. “Kiss me when everyone is looking.”

The forwardness of your statement is enough to get him to raise his eyebrow, although it’s not enough to mask the sudden racing of his heartbeat. “What?”

“My relatives are getting that disbelieving look on their face that I hate,” You explain, casting a sideways glance at them, to which Hoseok realizes that they’re all doing the exact same to the pair of you. “Please? Do this for me.”

He rolls his eyes to cover up the little voice inside of his head that says that he would pretty much do anything for you. Of course he would. Why else would he have agreed to take time out of his Saturday night just to convince your family that you weren’t as big a loser as they all seemed to think you were (although, honestly, you are a loser, but he means it more as a term of endearment because—oh, you know what, never mind).

So, for you, he flickers his gaze over to your family and can only catch a handful of them blatantly staring back at the pair of you before he is overcome with the sudden urge to follow through on your request.

Rather boldly, he steps forward, brushing the hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear, stealing one last glance at your family before he brings a hand to cup your cheek, bringing you closer, so close, but not close enough—he only manages a brush of his lips against yours before there are already butterflies and fireworks exploding in his stomach and behind his eyes. He only lets himself indulge in the lightest amount of pressure, the briefest graze of his tongue along your upper lip, before he’s pulling away just as quickly as he had come in.

He opens his eyes first, long enough to see you slowly peel your own eyes open, orbs gazing up at him with questions springing up behind the color like flowers taking in their first breath of spring, and although he isn’t aware of what his own eyes look like, he can only assume that he’s not too far off.

And if you hold him a little closer, grip his hand a little tighter, like you’re afraid to let go and watch him slip away, he tries not to pay attention to it and tries not to notice the way he feels the exact same way with you.

.

Walking to your apartment feels strangely like returning home, although he doesn’t entirely blame himself for this sensation. Truthfully, he’s spent more time in your space than he has in any other place throughout the duration of the week, whether it be with desperately trying to shove philosophy terms into his mind or training himself on how to hold your hand without simultaneously letting out all of his deep and meaningful secrets. He may roll his eyes about it or grumble about how uncool it is to your face, but he can’t really picture himself doing anything else now that he knows that you’ve been such an extensive feature of his life for a week.

This feeling leaves a strange and unpleasant sensation to brew in the pit of his stomach, the thought of what he’s going to do next when he steps away and no longer serves a purpose in your life plaguing his mind.

He must not do a good job of covering up his emotions, because he notices the way you spare him a glance out of the corner of your eye in the car, the way you turn to him, the way your arm reaches to cross the space of distance, the way your hand finds his. “Is everything okay?”

He doesn’t even have the mind to let you know that none of your relatives are in this apartment complex, that there is no need to put up a front and feel like you have to hold his hand out of sheer obligation, because he likes your touch and craves it and can’t lose it now that he’s been faced with all the goodness that happens while having it in his possession.

“Y-Yeah,” He manages after a moment, long after you’ve parked in your typical parking spot, bathing the pair of you in the darkness and the silence of the evening. “Everything is fine.”

The corner of your lips quirk up slightly as you try to untangle your fingers from Hoseok’s hold. “Okay.” You run the palm of your hands over each other. “You good to drive back?”

“L-Let me walk you to your door first,” He offers a little too quickly, but it’s worth it in the way you smile lightly, the way you nod and allow him to follow closely behind you as the pair of you make your way into the complex and into the elevator. There is an air of naturality that doesn’t feel too constraining, even as you both stand in silence, the movement of the elevator moving up providing background noise.

There is no pressure for conversation even as you lead him down the halls, even though he knows the direction by heart at this point. He doesn’t really know the purpose of his intentions, perhaps to extend this moment for a long as he possibly can, because Jung Hoseok may want to be a lot of new things because of you, but selfishness is a consistency he cannot stand to lose right now.

To him, it feels like you reach your front door too early, so he hopes that the disappointment doesn’t show in his features as you dig around your bag for your set of keys before turning around to face him once more. You bite your lip to hide your smile as you gesture to the closed door with your shoulder. “So, this is me.”

He smiles back. “I know.”

You nod, taking in a breath, steering yourself for the next set of words that are about to leave your mouth. “Hoseok, thank you again for today. You really helped me out and now I can just prolong on getting a real boyfriend, which might be good for my sanity, so thank you.”

“Of course,” He manages earnestly. “You helped me with my Philosophy grade, so it only seems fair.”

“You’d better work hard on maintaining it though,” You tease. “I won’t accept any excuses if you try to come crawling back to me.”

“I’ll miss you breathing down my neck though,” He retorts back with just as much of a light-hearted touch to his statement, because it’s the truth. Even though the pair of you still share the same Philosophy lecture, it still feels like as soon as he allows himself to walk down the hall, things would be different. “Hey, another thing…”

“What is it?” You tilt your head to the side.

“You… you shouldn’t see getting a real boyfriend as an obligation,” He manages, scratching the back of his neck because this hadn’t been rehearsed. “I mean, I’m sure you’ll find the right guy no matter what—anyone would be crazy not to fall in love with you.” Myself included.

Something in your expression changes. Your eyes widen slightly, your lips part, you look genuinely taken aback by his words, as if you hadn’t expected anything of the sort; yet you don’t look angered or discomforted by it. Instead, you smile shyly, pressing your lips together and you cannot look him in the eye and he wonders if your heart is beating just as much as his.

So he steps forward, brushing the hair out of your face and willing you to meet his gaze, which you do after a moment of hesitation. Your eyes have taken on a glassy shade, a feeling hidden behind that is not unlike the glimmer he saw back at the gathering. There is a yearning that he feels in his own nerves, underneath his own fingertips, silently pleading him and guiding him forward. He cups the side of your face, thumb brushing over your cheekbone as he brings you towards him to press his mouth against yours—the sensation not unlike the kiss he delivered to you at the gathering. But there something more; both of you want more, and it shows in the way you grip his t-shirt this time, the way you lean forward to return his kiss.

It’s like swarms of butterflies have grown in his stomach, his heart expanding to the size of the moon for a different reason other than just pure adoration for you—it feels like something more earth-changing, a feeling more hardwired to another akin to eternity, like he could spend forever just kissing you and being with you and he wouldn’t mind one goddamn bit.

Both his hands have moved up to cup your face to keep you as close as possible and even closer than that, his fingers desperately trying to remember everything about this moment, from the way your neck as craned up to meet his mouth, the way he can feel your heartbeat against his skin.

“Y/N,” He grunts against your lips, the vibrations dragging whimpers from the back of your throat. “I-I have to tell you something.”

The sound of the front door opening immediately pulls both of you from your trane, sending a whirlwind of different emotions through his body as his first instinct is to rip himself away from you. It appears to be your reflexive decision as well, because you back up so sharply that you hit the doorframe. It allows him to see the flushed complexion of your face, the fact that he made you like that, but it also allows him to see that Karly is the one who had opened the door.

It’s easy to see the shock upon her expression, the momentarily flare of jealousy that goes off like an explosion behind her eyes, but that light disappears just as quickly as it had come, because she is suddenly back to being the attentive roommate Hoseok never got to see.

“Y/N, you’re back,” She says, training her gaze intently on you in order to gauge your features. “How was the gathering?”

You catch your breath, looking down to pick up the keys you hadn’t even noticed you had dropped. “U-Uh it went good. Great, actually.” You flicker your gaze over to Hoseok. “I-I should go.”

“Right.”

“I’ll see you in class on Monday?”

He exhales in a laugh. “I look forward to it. B-Bye Y/N.”

“Bye Hoseok.” You spare him one last glance before allowing Karly to drag you into the apartment.

.

It’s hard to categorize your feelings as you step in through the door and can barely catch the way Karly shuts the door behind you, too overcome by a tickling, fluttering sensation rooted at the bottom of your chest. It makes your fingers reach up for your lips, makes your mouth curl up at the corners, makes the longing sensation in Hoseok’s voice and eyes replay itself over and over again like flickers in the back of your mind.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Karly inquires softly, snapping you out of your trance as you whirl around to find her still lingering by the door. Her gaze is fixated intensely on you, not a ounce of remorse or envy or sadness hidden behind her eyes—instead, there is something akin to sympathy and that gets you to stall slightly with your movements.

“Karly…” You start, bringing your fingers together. “I just—!”

“I get that he offered to pretend being your boyfriend and all, and that’s fine, but pretend anythings don’t make out like that in front of an apartment,” She notes, gesturing past the door but you don’t need a reminder. “When did… that start happening?”

You shake your head, shrugging. “I don’t know, I think something has always been there.”

“Are you in love with Hoseok?”

You dig your nails into the skin of your fingers, the fear of having to battle this question hitting you for the very first time since you started that… thing with the boy. You recognize that your friendship with him doesn’t necessarily sprout from the most traditional of means, but you like to think the pair of you have reached a good place, a stable setting, a relatively strong foundation. It’s why you trust him so much, even though you shouldn’t, why you’re so naturally fond and drawn to him, despite his reputation.

“Look,” Karly starts, her voice soft and soothing and clearly preparing you for some bad news as she takes the few steps in order to reach you. “Y/N, I really care about you, and I know your whole deal with relationships isn’t the most positive so I would hate for you to get hurt. I just, I’m just not sure if Hoseok is the best thing to be introduced in your life. I mean, look at him! Look at his reputation! If he and I hadn’t had sex that night, the pair of you might not have even met in the first place.”

You give her a nervous look, having completely forgotten that the only reason Hoseok was in your apartment in the first place was because he and Karly did have sex that night—and much like cold water you can feel the reality of the situation beginning to settle in. You are reminded of the difference you and Hoseok led in terms of interest, activities, and ambitions; how you believed in love and romance and Hoseok has never committed himself to a relationship, how Hoseok did not do the relationship thing, how he used them until they used up their purpose in his life.

It makes you think, makes you think if all of these things Hoseok has done with you has been part of an act, as been part of his desire to knock another girl off his list. He had been trying to flirt with you when the pair of you first met, perhaps he had tried to do whatever he could to get under your skin. It had worked.

You had played yourself right into his trap.

“Guys like Hoseok,” Karly adds in, reaching over to rest her hand gently on your shoulder. “They take innocent girls, ones who haven’t been hardened by life yet, girls like you, and he gives them a reason to make them wary. He doesn’t do the dating thing, I’m not even sure if he has the emotional capability to hold romantic feelings anymore.”

You look up and fixate your attention on Karly’s expression, seeing the truth of her words and the purity of her intentions and you find yourself consoling in it. After all, Karly is a byproduct of the same world that Hoseok lives, so it makes sense that Karly would have a closer hand in understanding the type of thoughts running through the boy’s mind.

Karly squeezes your shoulder. “I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but you’re my best friend and I know that it’s best to let you know these ahead of time before you get hurt.”

“Do… do you think he’s just using me?”

She sighs. “If it makes you feel better, I’ve never seen him return back to people the way he returns back to you. But I just… I don’t know, Y/N, he’s bad news—bad news before you met and he’ll probably just be more bad news once the pair of you move past this.”

You press your lips together, mind reeling over this presentation of new information and how a seemingly perfect day can go horribly wrong within the span of just a few minutes. There are so many questions you have, so many things you want to ask that it makes your head spin, but you simply nod and grumble something about going to your room.

In a way, you shouldn’t be mad at Karly for sharing her concerns with you, because Karly is one of your best friends and telling her not to be honest with you was something that you would never want to do to her. If anything, you should be mad at yourself for letting your mess with Hoseok unravel and letting yourself be blinded with the dose of reality you knew would come back to bite you in the ass at some point.

You shouldn’t have allowed yourself to be so naive, to think that the world didn’t exist beyond the walls in which you and Hoseok used to isolate yourselves from the world, to think that the time you shared together could just carry on forever with no repercussions whatsoever.

Besides, in the grand scheme of things, why would Hoseok actually want to date you? What kind of personal benefits would come out of that? He wouldn’t gain anything socially and people like Hoseok thrive off their social life. The longer you sit on your bed, letting Karly’s words and your own insecurities eat at the inside of your mind, the longer you can feel its poison settling in that you had to end things with Hoseok and that you had to cut yourself out of his life while you still could.

You wonder if it’ll hurt, but you wonder if he’ll even care.

With a sigh, you lay yourself atop the covers of your bed, curling up and only allowing the words of your roommate to sink even lower and lower underneath your skin. Hoseok has always been quiet about his feelings, always quiet about where he saw you and him in the long run, always quiet about whether or not you were actually of value in his life—all of which leaves an uncomfortable sensation brewing in the pit of your stomach.

You needed to do this, if only to make it easier for you to let go, if only to let you swallow the pill of Hoseok’s real life with a bit more ease.

You know it’s the right thing to do for the sake of your sanity, yet you find yourself still dreading the thought of walking into Philosophy and seeing Hoseok and wondering if he has any idea. He probably doesn’t, probably doesn’t even realize what he’s been doing to you for the past few weeks, probably doesn’t even care.

The thoughts are valid enough to drill itself into your mind with little resistance to the matter. Why would there even be a problem with trying to convince you otherwise? Doubt festers like a poison in your mind because Karly has a point. You and Hoseok are separated by miles and oceans and space filled with different activities and different interacts and different futures—you weren’t cool like him or talented or funny. You would never had the opportunity to talk to him or be with him or fall in love with him if it wasn’t for Karly introducing him into your life.

And now you were paying the price.

.

You don’t go to class on that following Monday. It’s a first for you, but the thought of having to sit next to Hoseok and have him smile at you and remain oblivious to your mindset only makes you nauseous and hurt. You know that the more responsible thing to do would be to confront Hoseok and just say the words that have gradually become more and more lodged in the back of your throat but you also can’t bring yourself to be upfront. Being upfront would make everything a reality and could potentially uncover everything that you’ve tried to hide away.

So you stay quiet and you stay away. You ignore Hoseok’s texts inquiring about your whereabouts and if you had caught a cold, you ignore his calls and when he shows up at your front door with polite knocks and stammering questions. You know that Hoseok isn’t stupid and you know that ignoring the problem won’t make it go away and yet you persist on.

It’s only a matter of time before Hoseok is able to catch you, able to find a flaw in your schedule of How To Avoid Jung Hoseok—but you have to admit that he seeks you out much quicker than you had originally anticipated.

Except you really hadn’t expected to find him in your apartment, although you don’t know why you’re so surprised. You had told him where the spare key was and had completely forgotten to move it after attempting to set your plan into motion. This just goes to show how little success your arrangement involving Hoseok typically go.

“Hoseok,��� You manage to greet, finding yourself completely rooted to the spot as you practically stick yourself to the front door, the noise echoing through the silence of the apartment. You wish Karly was here to help you find your bearings but of course she’s out attending another party. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I was always welcomed into your apartment anytime,” He says softly, a undertone of hurt in his voice but you do well in trying to ignore it. “You’ve been avoiding me for the past few days so I wasn’t sure if the offer still stands.”

You chew your lip, angling your head away from Hoseok’s intense stare so you could attempt to hide away from the full impact and full emotion dancing behind his eyes. “I’m not avoiding you,” You try, swallowing and knowing that you are terrible at lying to him.

“You haven’t been going to our philosophy class,” He reasons. “You always attend class.” He straightens off the kitchen table where he had been originally seated. “The only thing that changed between last class and the class you didn’t attend was…” He trails off, clearly in reference to the kiss that still makes your cheeks burn. “Did I make you uncomfortable? Did I do something to hurt you? Because I’m sorry if I did, you’re honestly the last person I would ever want to hurt.”

“I-It wasn’t you,” You protest weakly.

“Then what was it?” Hoseok presses, stepping closer to you. “Is someone fucking with you? Is something on your mind? You know you can always come to me if something is bothering you.” He makes a move, as if he wants to grab you and keep you from drifting so far away even if you haven’t moved from your position against the door since arriving. But he must see something in your eyes that spell out just how much you’re lying to him that it keeps him from reaching out to you.

You press your lips together, trying to steel your nerves and make yourself stronger. “I can’t do this anymore,” You whisper, looking up from some faraway point in the distance to risk a glance at Hoseok’s expression.

There is a flash of something in his eyes, something that you are unable to catch before it flickers away. He shakes his head. “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t expect you to,” You whisper back. “Look Hoseok, we’re just from two completely different worlds and we both have different expectations for our own lives. You live your life the way you want to just as I do the same for myself and I think trying to avoid that will just be prolonging it.”

“Woah, woah,” Hoseok cuts in, bringing a hand up to the door to cage you in. “Y/N, where is this coming from?”

“It’s not coming from anywhere,” You say, shaking your head a little. “It’s just, you’re you and I’m just… me.”

“You’re just you?” He repeats, furrowing his eyebrows together. “What are you talking about? You aren’t making sense.”

You shake your head, already feeling the flush of embarrassment beginning to hit your cheeks. “It doesn’t matter. I think you should leave now.”

Hoseok swallows, clenches his jaw together, something he only does when he’s desperately trying to understand something to no success. You’ve seen the expression more than once while tutoring him and just being around him so you have to look down before you can start to regret shutting him out.

“Y/N, please, try to help me understand,” He urges quietly, desperately, leaning in, cupping your face with one hand. “Please. You’ve become so important to me that the fact that you’re just shutting me out now is just so confusing and I don’t think I can handle that.”

You move to pry his hands from your face. “We’re just two completely different people from two different worlds and it’ll never work out. You should go.”

“But I just—!”

“Go.” You cut in, closing your eyes, a note of finality in your tone, letting go of Hoseok’s hand and moving to the side to leave the door wide open. He doesn’t try to stop you this time, doesn’t try to suck the answer out of you through puppy dog eyes. Instead he watches you for a few more seconds, as if he wants to say something more, but he doesn’t. He recognizes your stubborn nature and knows how difficult it is to fight it. So he nods regretfully, opening the door, turning to look at you one last time, before finally taking his leave.

You are left alone in the apartment, staring at the spot that Hoseok once stood as you process everything and try not to tell yourself that you had just made a terrible mistake.

.

Jung Hoseok doesn’t try to contact you after that and for a moment, you are grateful. You are grateful because Hoseok refusing to reach out to you must mean that Karly’s previous accusations have been right and the boy is only now starting to realize that you have caught on. You are grateful because Hoseok refusing to reach out to you means that you can attempt for some closure and be able to end that chapter of your life without making too big of a deal about it.

However, like everything in your life that involves Jung Hoseok, there is flip side to every blessing and it’s as if life can never wait too long before attempting to bite you back in the ass.

Except this time, this particular moment just feels like the biggest bite the world has ever delivered to you.

If you had known an hour ago that walking into the coffee shop just off campus would result in exactly what you’ve been trying to avoid for a weeks now, perhaps you would have rethought your decision to enter aforementioned coffee shop in the first place. Maybe you would have rethought the schedule of your entire day, doing anything and everything in your power to avoid the shop and therefore avoid him.

Not just avoid him, but avoid those lingering stares he’s been giving you for the past few weeks—the touch of desperation that always seemed to hide in the inner corner of his eyes but worse of all that feeling you got in your chest whenever he was in close proximity. Like right now, for example.

All you know is that maybe, just maybe, turning around had not been the smartest trick in the book and you should consider yourself lucky for not dropping your coffee upon the ground. You have a tendency of getting carried away in the midst of a great shock, especially when it comes to Hoseok.

He’s giving you a wide-eyed stare, the kind that reveals the depth of his shock and how he had most certainly not been expecting to actually run into you today. Even though the pair of you still share class, you’ve always managed to escape before he could successfully corner you and it’s clear that he’s almost given up the prospect of trying to fix whatever had broken between the two of you.

At once, seeing him right here and right now, just reminds you of all the characteristics and qualities you’ve come to adore so much about him: from his warm, good-spirit to his dorky and careful habits that almost didn’t match the popular facade he gave off constantly in the halls. Within such a short period of time, you made him different and better—time and distance definitely has not come close to changing that.

“Hey,” You say, voice barely above a whisper. “Y-You aren’t following me, are you?”

“U-Um…” He stammers, returning your question with his own awestruck quality, his tone airy and unbelievable and you wish you would have better prepared yourself for a situation like this. The pair of you go to the same university and attend the same class and have come to know him better than you know yourself in only a week—how the fuck could you have not seen this coming? “N-No, I’m really not. I just… I just needed a caffeine fix.”

You nod quickly, holding up your own cup of coffee and gripping it a little too tightly with the hopes he won’t see the way your fingers tremble. “Me too. H-How have things been with you? It’s been a few weeks, hasn’t it?”

“It has,” He agrees, trying for a shrug. “I, uh, just found out I got this job at the music studio in the city. It’s just for an internship, but I’ll get to organize music and meet producers so I’m pretty excited.”

The news of Hoseok’s good fortune makes you lower your coffee and lower your guard, lips parting and curling up and the hesitancy momentarily disappearing. “Really? Hoseok, that’s so great.”

“Thanks,” He returns breathlessly, lips curling up into his own, private smile—the kind that’s usually only reserved for you. “C-Can you stick around? We can catch up.”

For a moment, you blame the momentary race of your heartbeat on the anticipation you had constantly felt towards the thought of a moment like this and how hesitant you are. Of course you’re still feeling this way. After all, as soon as Hoseok walked out of the apartment, you had fully readied yourself to carry on with the rest of your life with the boy no longer in the picture. You had gone through the whole process of accepting your differences and coming to terms with the fact that things would never have worked out regardless of your beliefs and your hopes and the whole reversal process of your grief is not something that could be so easily mended over a cup of coffee.

So why does a part of you feel like it could? Maybe it’s the romantic part of you, the hopeful part that has always loved and believed in Jung Hoseok and the idea that perhaps he could return your feelings, the part you’re often too scared to think about that just wants to try and make things right.

All it takes is one lingering gaze upon his expression, to really see all that desperation and pleading in such close proximity for you, kind-hearted and whole and reassuring and much too good for this world, to cave. “Oh, alright.”

You try to ignore the way his eyes light up, the way the corner of his lips turn up for a second too long before he’s leading the way, gesturing to a corner booth big enough to house the two of you and private enough that you don’t have to think about any onlookers—a probably unconscious movement on Hoseok’s part that you find yourself appreciating. That way no one will see the popular, the charming, the star athlete, hanging out with the quiet, the studious, the nobody.

You swallow. You try not to think about those things, because thinking like that will lead to missing him, which would lead to wanting him back in your life, and you don’t think you could stand the heartbreak of having to let go of him again due to your own insecurities.

“So, how have you been?” He starts off, slow and steady and testing the waters, not knowing how far he can go without getting shut out again. It seems as if no matter how far he tried to separate himself, his mind always returned him back to that evening where his whole life changed, in which he tried to do everything afterwards to separate himself from his feelings to no true success.

You brush the hair out of your face, picking up your coffee in favor of looking at him because you have a feeling brewing in the pit of your stomach that tells you he’s most definitely watching you and trying to generate some sort of noteworthy response. You wonder what his expectations of you are right now and you wonder if you’re any close to meeting it—you wonder if he’s hoping you would be willing to offer some sort of explanation pertaining to that night and you wonder if you’re willing to be that vulnerable.

“I’ve been good,” You say, nodding carefully, curious about how much would be appropriate to disclose to someone you used to not think twice about telling everything to. A part of you hates it, hates the wall that you’ve gradually started to build around yourself, even if it had been done so out of your own fears and insecurities of not being good enough. You decide to talk briefly about your classes before you find yourself accidentally going off about a recent situation that had occurred while you took a visit to the campus bookstore.

To go more into detail, you talk about talking into aforementioned shop looking for twenty books for some English extra credit assignment, in which said twenty books needed to be read and converted into an essay. You go into the difficulty of trying to find all those novels on your own, how you had attempted to stack one on top of the other only to have the whole thing fall in you, how you had received multiple bruises along your face and arm as a result. By the time the story is done, Hoseok is smiling fondly over at you, shaking his head with a smile still present on his lips.

“You’re just way too clumsy for your own good,” He points out, lowering his hand, eyes never leaving yours.

His statement leaves you unable to stop from rolling your eyes. “Yeah, I bet you must really miss me and all of this, huh?”

The question, meant to be nothing but sarcastic and light-hearted and your stupid, stupid attempt to rid of the tension in the atmosphere, produces only the stiffest laugh from the back of your throat. You lift your coffee, desperate for some kind of distraction to keep your hands busy, but you make the mistake of lifting your gaze to see how Hoseok is taking your stupid, stupid joke.

You stop short when you notice how quiet he’s become, how silent and unbearable your words have rendered him into and for a moment, you think that you are the one who has overstepped the line—which, considering everything Hoseok has subjected to you over the course of the week you had gotten to know him, is stating a lot.

Hoseok’s attention is focused entirely on you, lips parted slightly, and you swear you can see the way his breathing has picked up as if he’s trying to will himself to say something that could either make or break the next step of your relationship.

It isn’t until your own smile has diffused does he finally will himself to speak his mind: “You know I have.”

You swallow, looking down at your coffee cup and tracing your finger lightly over the rim, feeling the panic of Hoseok’s words start to settle in. “T-That was out of line for me to say,” You say, tightening your grip on the cup and starting to stand. A flash of panic flickers in Hoseok’s eyes. “I should go.”

“N-No, Y/N, wait.” Hoseok stands up just enough to make a desperate grab for your wrist. You stare back at him with wide-eyes. “Please, just stay for a moment. I haven’t been able to talk to you or even look at you for too long over the past few weeks and it’s been driving me crazy s-so please. Stop shutting me out. Tell me what I did wrong, and I promise I’ll fix it.”

“It’s really not you, Hoseok,” You state, staring down at the sight of his fingers wrapping around your wrist. “It’s me.”

“Bullshit,” He cuts in, interrupting you with so such a sneer that you find yourself looking up to study his expression. He clenches his jaw, trying to will himself to stay calm but it’s hard. “You don’t get to look at me like I’ve become your whole world and then avoid me and never talk to me again—that’s not fair.”

You try to pull your wrist back to no luck. “Oh, you mean like what you were going to do to me eventually? I was just trying to spare myself that heartbreak from letting you drag out whatever this is any longer.”

Hoseok knits his eyebrows together. “Like what I was going to do to you? What are you talking about? I would never do anything to hurt you like that.”

“Well, why not?” You bite back. “Why would I be any different from all these other girls that you sleep with and mess around with?”

He looks pained. “Are you really asking me what makes you so different?”

“Of course I am! Why would I be different? I’ve got nothing going for me when it comes to you—I mean, you’re Jung Hoseok and I’m just me; you’re just as out of my league as you were when we first met. I don’t live like you so how could I ever be enough for you—!”

Without a warning, Hoseok tightens his grip on your wrist and steps out of his side of the booth, circling around in order to be as close to you as possible. “It’s because I’m in love with you, you fucking moron. I don’t care if you don’t live like me, I’m glad you don’t because I’ve always hated the thought of you only seeing me as the party kid, the guy who messes around with girls, or the guy who doesn’t even care because I care about you so much that I didn’t even think that was possible.”

You continue to stare wide-eyed at the boy, flickering your gaze between his eyes as if trying to read any potential sarcasm in his statement and you grow increasingly more nervous when you can’t find any of that. “B-But,” You manage. “I’m just me—!”

“Yeah,” He interrupts. “You’re just you—but that’s what I love so much. You being you is the only thing I’ll ever need. I promise. Please give me the chance to show you how much you mean to me.”

You flicker your gaze down to his lips, switching between his mouth and his eyes and knowing you can never resist him and that maybe Karly didn’t know as much as you thought she did. “Okay,” You whisper, nodding even after the words of confirmation leave your lips.

Hoseok’s own eyes widen for a second, his lips curling up into that breathless smile you love so much. “R-Really?”

You nod. “Yeah, I believe you. I trust you—and I love you too.”

He presses his lips together, but his attempt to diffuse his smile doesn’t work out. “So, is there another family gathering you need to attend? It’ll feel less guilty when we go knowing that we aren’t lying to them the next time around.”

You laugh, heart racing at the implication of his statement. “I know.”

[schrijverr]

(Un)Wanted Guest

Sam is at Stanford when Dean bust in with the police on his trail after a salt ‘n burn. Sam knows what’s going on, but his friends are a bit suspicous of his brother.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: mentions of Johns parenting

(I know it’s been a lot of Supernatural lately, but I started over again with my mom, so I was insprised by that) ~~~~~~~~~~

It was Friday, which means chill night at Stanford. This week it was Sams turn to host, so they were all sat on his tiny couch watching some bad movie. It was fun, calm, relaxed and, more importantly, normal.

Then the lock started jingling, Sam was the first to notice. He picked up the remote and stopped the movie as he got up while frowning at the door. He didn’t expect anyone and whoever was trying to get in, wasn’t doing it the normal way. He crept closer to the door and his friends all shared a look, but no one dared to say a thing.

The door flew open and a man with dirty hands and a shovel ran in and closed the door. Sam was on him in seconds, grabbing the shovel and using it to pin the man to the door. The man didn’t fight back, instead he just put his hands up and said: “Hey, dude, it’s me.”

Sam identified the man, which was made obvious by his eyes widening in shock and him dropping the shovel. He asked: “Dean? What the hell are you doing here?”

“Long story,” the man said, Sams friends now could take a better look at him, he was handsome, not that much older than Sam with sandy hair and green eyes, his lips could be called mesmerizing and they watched them as they moved: “I was doing a simple salt ‘n burn, cops busted me. You have to hide me.”

That snapped Jane out of her trance as she said: “No, Sam, don’t! You can’t hide a criminal here, what if the cops come? What if they catch you? You want to study law, don’t jeopardize that for some random guy.”

Sam cringed as he looked back to the stranger, apparently named Dean. Dean said: “Some random guy? Ouch Sammy, I’m hurt.”

“Dean.” Sam pulled his original Bitch FaceTM.

“No, no, I get it, don’t worry.” Dean said, though there was a bit of hurt in there, “I mean, being an only child would have been great, right?”

“Come on, man. Don’t be like that.” Sam said, “It wasn’t as if I had that many nice family memories to take with me, or even a picture of you for that matter.”

Tom cut in: “Wait, is he family?”

Sam looked at his friends and saw all their curious faces. He sighed and let his shoulders sag as he explained: “Yeah, this is my brother, Dean.”

There was an uproar as all of them rushed to ask things like: “Why didn’t you tell us you had a brother?” “How are you so different?” “You aren’t going to let that cloud your judgment, right? He’s a criminal.”

Sam yelled: “Shut up!” a deep breath, “Thank you. Now, questions later, I hear footsteps.”

And sure enough, heavy boots echoed through the halls and doors were knocked on. Sam looked between the door, his friends and his brother a few times, before shoving his brother alongside his shovel behind the couch and telling his friends: “Don’t say a word.”

He ignored their protests and opened the door as someone knocked on the door. It was a police agent, who asked: “Have you seen a man in his twenties wearing a leather jacket, denim jeans and working shoes with dirty hands and carrying a shovel?”

Easily Sam lied: “Oh no, sir. But I thought I heard some ruckus on the fire escape, but with a dorm full of drunk students you hear a lot of random sounds, so I didn’t think much of it. Can I ask what he’s done? Should I be scared?”

The officer reassured him: “Nothing to worry about, young man. We caught the guy digging up some poor womans grave and burning her. The working theory is necrophiliac sex offender, so nothing to worry about for a living boy like you. Thank you for your time.”

“No problem officer, good luck out there. I hope you catch the guy.” Sam told him, managing to sound sincere.

The officer smiled and waved his goodbye as Sam closed the door. Once it was closed Dean got up from behind the couch with a small pout on his face and Sam started laughing. He was doubling over and gasping for air. Dean sulked some more and said: “Ha, Ha, Ha, very funny. Yeah, laugh it up.”

Between gasps Sam said: “They, they thought, they thought you were, a nerco-, a necrophiliac, oh god.”

Then he dissolved back into giggles. Dean tried to stay upset for a few more seconds, but in the end he had to laugh as well. Sams friend didn’t understand why it would be so funny, Sam just casually lied to a police officer, while his brother had dug up a grave and was a suspected sex offender.

Dean said: “This reminds me of that time they thought dad was into fucking cows, you remember that?”

“Oh yeah!” Sam exclaimed, “They took him in and everything. He had to try and explain to that lady officer that he was trying to shoot a wolf that was hunting them, which had ruined his pants. Aah, good times.”

“Then I had to sneak him the cell keys, while you pretended to be lost.” Dean reminisced, “I don’t think we ever set foot in Cherry County again.”

Jane couldn’t take it anymore, she exploded: “Sam! Why are you laughing at this? He has been caught red handed, if they ever find out that you hid him from the police, your law career is over. You might believe him when he tells you he’s innocent, but your relation is clouding your judgment. You’re over here, joking about your dad getting arrested and having to lie to police to illegally bust him out. That’s not funny, that is insane and seriously fucked up.”

Sam flinched a bit and Dean went immediately into protective brother mode. He said: “Hey, why don’t you keep your opinion to yourself, lady. You don’t know his story, maybe there’s a reason he never told you. I haven’t seen my brother in almost two years, so maybe you could let him have a moment with family that loves him before you start pushing your judgment down his throat.”

Sam put his hand on Deans arm and said: “It’s alright, she doesn’t mean anything bad by it. Jane is very good at coming up with doom scenarios, alright? You know we look fucked up from the outside, don’t ruin the friendships I’ve build here since I got away.”

Dean shot her one more angry look, which made her flinch, before looking back at Sam. Jane felt terrible, she knew she was quick to judge and to think the worse, but this really wasn’t the time, probably. She didn’t know, on one hand Sam having a fucked up youth explained so much about him and the way he acted, like how he would always look over his shoulder or know details about everyone and would comment on a car that he had never seen before, like he knew which cars drove by every day, on the other hand she didn’t know how dangerous this made him, he could be perfectly lovely, sure, but he could also be a ticking time bomb waiting to explode and when it did his friends would be the first to die!

Tom said: “This might not be the time, but what really happened? If, you know, the necrophilia stuff isn’t true.”

“Well,” Dean began, “grave desecration, is true, I did do that, but I had a good reason. You see, I knew the person next to this ladies grave, she was a close friend of mine, but her grass was wilting and I knew it was because that old hag next to her was treated by some budget mortician. So, to save my friends grave I tried to destroy hers.”

It was quiet for a second, then Jane asked: “Then why didn’t you try to take it up with the people of the grave yard or something?”

“I did, but it was a no go.” Dean lied.

Sam almost rolled his eyes at his brother’s story, Dean always had a way of coming up with a story on the fly, while Sam just tried to awkwardly get away. It felt nice to hear Dean make up bullshit stories again, like he used to when they were kids and Sam couldn’t sleep.

He was pulled out of his musings by Jess who asked: “Then you must have been into town for a few days, why didn’t visit Sam sooner?”

Both got big eyes as they looked at each other. Sam opened and closed his mouth trying to find an excuse for his brother, but nothing could come out. He felt everyones eyes on him like this was some sort of moment of truth where they would assume that Dean hated Sam and only used him for this sort of thing and they would angrily chase him away or something and he would never see his brother again. Right as he was about to have some sort of break down Dean found his words: “I didn’t think it would have been the smartest idea with how everything ended.”

Sam knew what Dean looked like when he lied, this was a truth. He said: “That was always just between me and dad, I never held anything against you, man. You were stuck just like me.”

“Yeah, but I’m still with dad, this is one of the first times we split up. Ever. He’s gonna be mad as fuck if he knows I saw you, you know that. In dads eyes I picked a side when I didn’t leave with you and if I see you, I betrayed him.” Dean said.

Sam knew this was true, but he didn’t want to let Dean go, he wanted to argue, scream, swear, hold his brother until he knew the other would never go, but he knew that none of it would help. So he just nodded sadly.

“Hey, don’t be such a downer, Sammy.” Dean said.

Automatically Sam responded: “It’s Sam.”

Dean rolled his eyes and said: “Sure, Sammy” then he pulled him into a quick hug and said: “Until the next emergency, eh.”

Sam smiled weakly and waved at him as he watched Dean grab his shovel and climb out of the window. He looked at his friends and said: “That was a weird evening for everyone, I guess.”

“Did we make a mistake, Sam?” Jane asked.

“No, he’s trying his best and he would never hurt anyone without a very good reason.” Sam said, “It’s hard to understand when you weren’t there, but Dean, Dean is one of the best people out there, he was my mom since he was four, gave up meals for me and went to my school plays while dad never went. He’s just a good guy in a bad situation.”

Jess went up to him and said: “Sam, I don’t mean anything with this, but don’t you ever think you have to talk with someone about what happened to you, because this doesn’t sound healthy.”

“Yeah, maybe...” Sam trailed off and kept staring out of the window to where Dean had disappeared, his friends sensed that this might not be the time to continue movie-night or the interrogation, so they silently left.

The next day Sam was old Sam again, when they asked about his family or brother he answered with short answers or not at all, until they stopped trying, but no one completely forgot. So, when Dean showed up some years later and taking Sam with him on a trip to find their dad, the first thing Jess did was tell everyone who had been there the first time they had met the older Winchester.

And none of them forgot that Dean had been there the night Jess died and none of them were really that surprised when Dean showed up on wanted posters all through America, but all felt guilty that they had been convinced by Sam's sad eyes and every single one of them could never let it go that they allowed that man to walk free when they could have stopped him long before he hurt anyone.