#Guys don’t throw rocks at me for being cringe <- the social anxiety is getting to him

[dumbasswithapen]

don’t mind me just testing the waters a lil bit- would anyone be interested in some agere fic? For a few fandoms bc I admit i am starving and I may have to grow my own food in this field TwT

[chaoticneutralwriter]

Distance and the Heart

You were convinced that you’ll be fine on your own while he’s gone. After all, all you wanted to do was sit at home and watch BTS videos all day. Instead, you go on a ‘date’, break someone’s nose and dig an even deeper ‘Oh-shit-I-think-I-might-like-my-guardian-demon’ hole for yourself.

You should never be let outside again.

guardian demon!Jimin x reader

genre: slice of life, fluff, slow-burn, supernatural, comedy

word count: 8.1k (I DID NOT MEAN FOR THIS TO HAPPEN)

Related works: Unorthodox | Genuine | 3AM Demon | The Grinch Who Stole New Year

A/N: well this got long....LOL UMM Hope you enjoy it! There’s more plot! And be aware of douchey guys! :DD

“You’re going where now?”

 “Think of it as a ‘performance evaluation’ meeting; you know, the kind you humans have with your boss to discuss how well or not you’ve been doing your job.” He replies back, adjusting the cuffs on his shirt as he stands before your full-length mirror. You try your hardest not to stare at him from your seat by your desk, in the middle of working on some assignments just to get ahead of yourself for the week, but you find your concentration wavering when your mind clearly found something way more interesting to study.

 Jimin is currently dressed in an all black ensemble; a black button down that’s tucked into his black slacks, allowing you the chance to see just how perfectly they hug his thighs and ahem ass. His silvery hair is immaculately coiffed as per usual and as he turns to shrug on the black blazer jacket, embroidered with intricate silver linings, you find yourself very distressed in your seat because your mind is telling you no but your body…. your body is saying hell yes.

 You whip your gaze away, embarrassed by your own thoughts and you hope that your guardian demon hasn’t noticed. Damn him for looking so good.

 “I’ll try to keep the visit short, but don’t be surprised if you don’t see me for a few days.” Jimin makes the final adjustments to his look, brushing away strands of hair that fall out of place over his forehead before turning to fix you with a stare.

 “Don’t worry, take all the time you need.” You encourage, hoping to feign indifference of his departure. It seems to not slip past him as Jimin’s plush lips curl into that damning smirk and to add more insult to injury, he languidly saunters over to you, instantly putting you on high alert.

 “Oh cherub, don’t you know I worry that you’ll probably die from missing me so much?” He singsongs and you blanch in response. “But just so you know, I’m only one call away; hell is completely toll free.”

 He removes his hand previously stuffed into his pocket to pat you on the head mockingly to which you swat at it before it even makes contact with a single strand of hair. You kiss your teeth, annoyed but he just throws his head back and laughs at you. You curse again because as much as you’re irritated, the tinkling sound never fails to make your heart race. 

 “Just go already; aren’t you going to be late or something?” You feebly mumble, turning back to stubbornly burn a hole into your laptop screen. You hear a muffled snort; some shuffling and you finally think you’ve got your deserved peace from this nuisance but then—

 “No kiss goodbye?” 

 On reflex, you hurl your seat cushion at his general direction, only for it to crash against your full length mirror noisily (you wince as little knick knacks nearby topples over from the force), the last remnants of his cackling fading into the air and the only thing you can do is huff out loudly, face blazing. But what you find the most frustrating thing however is that you’re not sure if it’s from anger or from the thought of imagining kissing said demon.

 -

 After about three hours, you shut off your laptop and place your pencil down to heave a big stretch with your arms high above your head. You wince at the kinks and pops of your joints but you’re satisfied with your finished work. Now you can relax and laze around all you want, maybe even catch up on a couple of RUN BTS episodes that you’ve sadly missed due to being so busy.

 “Hey! Y/N, wanna check out this cafe with me?”

 Or not…

 Jaehee’s voice calls out to your from her place by your door, phone in hand to showcase an instagram profile of said cafe she mentioned. You’re a bit hesitant to be honest, feeling like your energy is all spent from working on school stuff that all you wanted to do now was to essentially become a human rock. Jaehee picks up on it, having known you for a while but she must be desperate to get out because she persists.

 “C’mon Y/N! It’s still early and a Saturday plus I know you’re not working tomorrow either!”

 You’re caught in between the pros and cons of staying home or going out because although you’re definitely not opposed to going to a cute little cafe to maybe reward yourself with an iced coffee or latte, you definitely dread the thought of the process to getting yourself ready to look presentable to the world when you’re completely comfortable in your PJs. Your indecision shows and like a bloodhound, Jaehee hones in on it and with a last ditch effort of convincing you, she throws in some puppy-dog eyes and a pout.

 “Please? I really wanna check this place out with you.” 

 The loud sigh you let out is enough to have a smile break out widely on her face, needing no words to know that you’ve given in. With reluctance, you drag yourself up out of your chair to get changed.

 Guess BTS will have to wait a little longer.

 -

 Admittedly the cafe is pretty cute and this iced latte is great so you find the discomfort of being dragged out of the house disappearing. You’re having a good time, laughing at a work story Jaehee is telling you as you’re munching on some fancy looking pastries that should’ve been too good-looking to eat (but that sentiment quickly went away because Jaehee took too long taking photos of it from every angle).

 There’s a lull in conversation as Jaehee takes the time to type something out on her phone, you paying no mind as your attention is more on getting the last of this cheesecake in front you.

 “So Jason; you remember him right? He’s gonna stop by with a friend of his who just moved here to the city. Do you mind if they join us?”

 You’re caught like a deer in headlights, mouthful of delicious desserts. Half of you find that there’s no reason they shouldn’t be allowed but the other half is cringing at the thought of having to interact with people whom you know very little about (Jason has only been a recent thing in Jaehee’s life and from what little times you’ve hung out with him and Jaehee together, you still can’t quite figure out if he’s worth investing in before he’s replaced).

 Rationality wins out eventually, finding yourself no real good reason to say no so you bite the bullet. “Sure, I guess?"

 When you’re halfway through your latte, Jaehee’s phone vibrates and she picks up.

 “Hello?…. Oh you’re here? We’re just inside, come in!” She hangs up promptly with a smile and before you can ask or wonder more on it, the door opens and in walks two guys. You easily recognize one of them as being the one that Jaehee took to the Christmas party as a date so by process of elimination, the other is the friend from out of town.

 He’s quite plain looking; a mop of dark hair and with no striking feature catching your eye other than the fact that he seems quite tall and lanky (but the same can be said about everyone you basically meet). The duo approaches just as Jaehee waves them over, her date going in for a hug to which your friend reciprocates while his friend simply smiles politely on the side.

 “Jason! Glad you could make it, and you must be Mike right?”

 Mike smiles widely and offers a handshake for her, to which Jaehee takes naturally.

 “Yeah, nice to finally meet you.”

 “And this is my friend and roommate Y/N.”

 You smile, taking Mike’s outstretched hand to give a shake as well as giving a simple greeting. Conversations are taken over by Jaehee for a bit before you all collectively decide to leave and walk along the street where the cafe is located. The weather is nice, the air slightly crisp but the real cold was more of something to worry about once the sun goes down.

 You file out of the shop and begin your walk, Jaehee and Jason naturally pairing up to chat, which left you with Mike trailing after them from behind. Oh joy….

 Your heart is beating a little too hard in your chest for your liking, your small bouts of social anxiety creeping in at now being put in a position to make small talk with a total stranger, a skill you haven’t quite got the hang of in all of your twenty-some odd years of being alive.

 “This seems like a really nice place to hang out with your friends huh?” Luckily, Mike’s the first to strike up conversations with you. Pressure relieved, you plaster on a smile.

 “Yeah, most of the cafes and popular eating spots are here….” 

 And that’s pretty much all you get out. You’re starting to get sweaty.

 “What would you recommend here?” Mike persists, seemingly not bothered by what you feel is a conversation struggling to continue every other sentence. He still has a smile on his face which makes his otherwise ordinary features appear more attractive, and coupled by his earnestness to keep talking to you, the friendliness and outgoing characteristics of him becomes more apparent. You find yourself impressed by his efforts of keeping the awkwardness at bay.

 “Uh, I’ve only tried a few places. So far pretty good in my opinion.” 

 “So the cafe today was good then? Because what you were eating back there looks really delicious.”

 “Yeah, I guess. The cheesecake is all right.” 

 It pretty much continues with Mike obviously being the more animated out of the two you as he pretty much chats enough for you both. You find out he’s moved here to attend the local university, the same one Jason goes to and that’s how they became friends and that he’s only been here for a little over two weeks. You nod along, offering comments here and there and the last remains of heart palpitations are thankfully gone.

 “What’s Tsujiro?” Mike suddenly asks as his gaze wanders to a dessert place you’re coming up on. You pause, can’t help but think how the shop name as well known as Tsujiro could slip under someone’s radar at this point. However, you push it aside because who are you judge; maybe he came from a smaller city or town?

 “Oh, uh, it’s a Japanese dessert place; they mainly sell soft serve green tea ice cream in like, tall cups or small ones with other toppings and stuff.” 

 “Oh wow, I might actually want to try one out. Is it good?” He turns to you, bright eyed and you give a shrug and a wry smile.

 “It’s all right.” You say, voice cracking near the end from being unsure. Sure you liked it, but honestly found it too pricey for your taste. 

 You don’t tell Mike that though (who are you to stop him from wanting to try it out; who knows, maybe he’ll like it).

 It seems good enough for him because he makes a beeline into the shop and you call out to Jaehee and Jason to wait up. No sooner, Mike comes out and everyone comments on his chosen concoction from the store; a tall cup of what appears to be green tea smoothie, topped with more green soft serve, a cube of cheesecake (?), sprinkled with mochi and other sweet looking treats. It’s pretty to look at, but the price he tells you were anything but (you’re not surprised).

 Your group walks around a bit more until spontaneously deciding the grab dinner once Mike finishes up with his dessert (“not as good as it looked,” he chuckles disappointingly).

 The restaurant you decide to eat at however was thankfully. You all make good talk with one another, Jaehee, being the ever better socialite than you, does a good job at covering for you both (you have a sneaking suspicion it’s the alcohol you’ve all ordered with your meal). You feel like you’ve filled your quota of talks and keeping up with pleasantries in the face of strangers, though that doesn’t stop Mike from pulling you into conversations every now and then. You throw in a comment or two to suffice.

 Dinner wraps up nicely, the bill is split and you all get ready to leave: Jason with Mike and Jaehee with you. You think you’re in the clear, the slight alcohol enhancing the excited buzz you’re feeling about heading home until Mike calls out to you suddenly at what should’ve been the final exchanges of goodbyes.

 “Hey Y/N, is it okay if I have your number? Would be cool to see you again.”

 You blink, unsure of how to respond. You seldom give your number out to people you’ve only just met, unless the circumstances are called for (i.e. business related, appointment based, or if it’s long overdue if you keep seeing the person). Snobby or uptight aren’t words you would describe yourself with this, but perhaps a combination of pessimistic and realistic is more appropriate; you’ve long made peace with the fact that at this stage of your life, the chances of acquiring any more life-long friends is zero to none. Nine times out of ten, this will be just another number you’ll have to clear out.

 At the nudge of Jaehee’s shoulder, you’re knocked out of your stupor and the realization that you had probably been vacantly staring at him settles as an embarrassed blush on your cheeks. 

 “O-Oh, uh, you have iMessenger? That’s better to get in touch with me.” You awkwardly reach for your phone to pull up the app and Mike laughs good-naturedly, nodding. You exchange contacts and finally, with a breath of relief, you part ways. Not a moment sooner when you had turned the block to the direction of your house did Jaehee pounce on you.

 “So? What do you think of him?” She asks, trying to be on the sly with things but it’s obvious how eager she is to hear.

 “Think of who?”

 “Mike! Jason’s friend.” 

 “What about him?” You’re not seeing the significance of the question nor the person in question.

 “You know… do you think he's nice? Cool? …. Cute?”

 You nearly give yourself whiplash at Jaehee’s choice of questions, turning your gaze onto her expectant ones. You feel your face contort itself into a sort of half grimace and look of incredulity.

 “I only just met him? Like he’s nice, I guess…. Really friendly to people he just met— I don’t know.”

 Jaehee seems to deflate at your lukewarm response. “Really? That’s it?”

 “…. Yeah? Why?”

 She sighs, hand tugging to link arms with you. “Never mind.” 

 The rest of the walk home you’re confused but you’re too tired to really think too much on it at this point. So much so that once you’re in the house, your night routine all blurs together and you immediately fall asleep as soon as your head touches pillow.

 The next morning, you wake up with a groan, stretching your limbs but not quite ready to get up out of your cocoon of blankets just yet. You settle by grabbing your phone to mindlessly scroll through your social media, as one does when they’re intent to make Sunday their designated lazy day. You’re surprised to see a notification for your iMessenger, a face you’re not used to seeing. It takes a moment for it to register as the guy you met yesterday, Mike.

 “Did you two get home alright?” was his written message in the chat box, sent at a time you knew you’d been passed out in the sleep. You do him the courtesy to text back with an apology on the delayed response and that yes, you and Jaehee did make it home safely.

 You go on to open up your other apps, scrolling through your feed, which helps you wake yourself up, more often than not finding BTS content related things. You stop on a video clip compilation of Jimin laughing till he disappears out of frame and it makes you grin. How can someone so cute exist? You hit the ‘like’ button and as you proceed to scroll more, your thoughts shift to the next thing related to said idol.

 Speaking of, you wonder if your demon guardian Jimin-lookalike is back.

 You swivel your head as best you could but find not so much as whiff of the usual lavender and vanilla scent that never fails to follow him.

 Huh….

 You get out of bed eventually, making your way to the kitchen to fix yourself breakfast and find that the house is…uncharacteristically quiet.

 No, it’s always been this quiet. You correct yourself, because it’s true…or was true. Before….

 You huff a sigh, exasperated. Get your thoughts straight girl.

 You continue with your day, making up for the lazing around you missed. Every once in a while, your phone pings with a notification; another sent message by Mike. The conversation was nothing of interest, just more casual talks of what you’re doing and going off on that before the topic is changed, most often by Mike once you’ve ran out of things to say.

 It goes on like that for a couple more days. He messages first always, and you almost dutifully answer back out of courtesy. He truly does seem like a nice guy, polite and easy-going but as much as your conversations with him were good (at a least you think? There were times you’ve haven’t answered for days because you were being swamped with work and school but that still doesn’t deter him), they were still very surface level; not having gone past being ‘good acquaintances’…or more like ‘one-sided good acquaintances’ because you think you know more about him than he does you.

 However, as the days drag on, you find your interest in Mike fading altogether as more other pressing thoughts start to occupy your mind, creeping in and growing like mold.

 Where is your guardian demon?

 Jimin did say the meeting might take more than a few days but it’s almost been more than a week since he’d left. Do meetings in hell usually take this long? More so, why hasn’t the bastard texted you at all? He’s supposed to be your guardian and right now he’s technically neglecting his end of the contract.

 Wait, what are you saying?  

 You flail your limbs in frustration, lying in bed in the middle of the night. You had told yourself that you were going to be a decent human being and go to sleep at normal people time because you’re absolutely beat from the week’s work but instead of drifting off like you thought you would, you ended up reflecting back on the events and had come full circle to the one being who should’ve been your least concerned. 

 Even when he’s not physically there, he still manages to wiggle his way into your thoughts. Unbelievable.

 You drift off eventually, stubbornly muting any train of thoughts that somehow always seem to lead back to him. You wake up a little on the groggy side, as if you haven’t slept at all but it’s the weekend again so you’re not bothered in rushing to get up. Grabbing your phone, you tap it awake to find a message notification.

 Your heart races for a quick second before impassively dropping once your foggy mind has registered the name; it’s Mike. No devil…or demon to be spoken of here. The message preview looks like a good morning text and the beginnings of asking what are you up to and you don’t quite make it that far before brushing it away from the screen; you’ll answer later.

��You mosey along with your day contently, taking time to eating breakfast then getting lost on Youtube (to which you, without fail, ended up watching a bunch of BTS related videos from Vlives to Run episodes to Bangtan Bombs) and even being productive like getting ahead of your studies (though you literally spent a little under fifteen minutes on it but hey, progress is progress).

 It’s around late evening when Jaehee comes knocking on your door, phone in hand once again and a yet another proposition.

 “Hey, wanna head out for dinner with me, Jason and Mike tonight?”

 You blink back at her from your nest of pillows and blankets much like an owl, not giving her an immediate response. She stares right back at you and it would seem like you two were having a silent conversation but you have a sneaking feeling that Jaehee can already see your brain working through all the pros and cons of saying yes or no like you’re Doctor Strange seeing all the possible alternative universes in which to defeat Thanos.

 “Where to exactly?” You ask after a while with slight trepidation.

 “That new Korean BBQ place that just opened up.”

 Damn.

 She’s got you beat. You’ve been eyeing that place for a while now but just never had the time or occasion to go. Not only was it the first branch to finally open here from being exclusively abroad for so long, but the restaurant is only a few blocks down the street from where you and Jaehee live; a true miracle because you had always figured such a popular restaurant would be located more towards downtown (which meant having to commute via subway, ugh).

 And God must’ve cursed you with a gluttonous vice because your stomach rumbles like it had a say in whether you’re going or not, and by the looks of it, you most certainly are.

 So with a defeated sigh, and knowing that Jaehee most likely heard your traitorous stomach even from your doorway, you agree. 

 The two of you meet up with your companions at the restaurant since they were coming from the downtown area so this way it would be more convenient. Jaehee greets the boys enthusiastically, whereas you wave casually, more subdued.

 “Hey, Y/N! It’s been a while since we saw each other.” Mike smiles as he comes up to you. 

 “Uh, yeah it has huh?” You shift a little in place, but you hurriedly follow after Jaehee and Jason who’s already stepped into the restaurant to grab a table. Jason of course, slides in on the bench side with Jaehee…. Which leaves you and Mike on the chairs across. You inwardly sigh out in exasperation. You just want to get through dinner eating the most Korean BBQ you can and with as little small talk as possible.

 To your relief, it wasn’t difficult to do once the food starts rolling out and the grill starts sizzling. For the most part, it works because food is always a great distraction but then the drinks starts pouring and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t totally in love with grapefruit flavoured soju now. Luckily, most conversations stay group oriented and Jaehee takes the lead in most of them, so you bounce off of her topics to make it easier for you to not get stuck conversing with just Mike. 

 As the eating comes to an end and drinks only remain however, you’re left with very little to defend yourself with.

 “So did you see the new Venom movie?” Mike asks you with what you could assume was a playful nudge but all it does is nearly make you slosh your drink. You try not to let the annoyance show on your face as you strain to smile back. 

 “Ah, yeah I did. I watched it online.” You say off-handedly before downing your drink, the sweetness of grapefruit hiding the usual rubbing alcohol burn of the soju, making it far too easy to swallow. You muse absently about how dangerous that can be. 

 “What? Why didn’t you see it in theatres? It was a great movie!”

 It wasn’t that great. But it wasn’t that bad either. You think to yourself but you’re not in the mood to having an extensive discussion with him, head beginning to slightly throb, so you settle to just shrug.

 “I didn’t feel like it. Also, didn’t really have the time.” 

 “Hey, then when we get the chance, maybe we should go see one together.” Mike suggests. You’re about to give a reply that would underlie a soft let down or at least to not get his hopes up when Jaehee exclaims rather excitedly at the suggestion.

 “Oh my god yeah! We should! It’s been so long since I’ve actually went to see a movie in theatres.” 

 “I swear we went to one not too long ago…” Jason comments, trailing off as his thinks back on it.

 “That was in summer, and now it’s winter.” Jaehee turns back to you and Mike in front of her, her excitement not seeming to die down anytime soon as she blurts out a little too loudly. “It can be like a double date!”

 You nearly choke on the soju you’ve been sipping, covering it up hastily with the loud clearing of your throat and decidedly placing the glass down to reach for the cup of cold water instead. 

 “Woah you okay?” You feel Mike’s hand on your shoulder; the sudden contact makes your arm flinch in surprise. You hurriedly gulp down the water, letting the coolness wash over the rough patch in your throat before mustering up a stiff smile in assurance.

 “Y-Yeah, no, I’m fine! Just…. went down the wrong pipe is all.” Your voice comes out hoarse and you cough again to clear it, chuckling nervously. Jaehee laughs as if you just hadn’t nearly choked to death, though she refills your cup of water generously.

 “You need to slow down with that soju. Is it really that good?”

 “Yeah!” You jump on the chance to direct your attention elsewhere, “Really good! I like, almost finished this bottle by myself!” You forcefully laugh; feel your cheeks start to heat up, whether from said alcohol or embarrassment. You start to wonder belatedly if you should check with a mirror to see if you’ve gone as red as you usually do when drinking (boy would that be even more embarrassing!).

 “You know what, I need to go to the washroom. Be right back!” You hurriedly excuse yourself, the chair wobbling as you get up with a stumble.

 “Oh! I’ll come with you!” Jaehee volunteers as she jumps up from her seat, grabbing your arm and dragging you to the ladies’ room. After a quick trip of emptying your bladder, you finally get a look at your reflection as you wash your hands. You’re relieved to find that you’re not completely red, just the slightest shade of pink peeking through your foundation. You note with satisfaction of how high coverage it is.

 “Hey, Y/N!” Jaehee calls cheerfully to you as she steps out of her cubicle with a flush. She comes to stand next to you, bumping your hips before lathering her hands with soap and water.

 “What?” You ask more concentrated in your attempts at patting away some of the oiliness on your nose and chin.

 “I think Mike is really into you.” Jaehee teases, a sneaky smile sent your way but you’re not as amused by the idea as she is. You wrinkle your nose, face scrunching in the mirror in front of you.

 “Um, what makes you so sure about that?”

 “Don’t tell him I told you, but Mike messaged me before we headed out tonight. He said you and him have been hitting it off pretty well.” 

 You furrow your eyebrows because that’s not how you see it and you express that much. Jaehee gives you a look that says she thinks otherwise.

 “The guy’s just super nervous around you. He really wants to get to know you better. Hell, if I wasn’t seeing Jason, I would go for him.” You can see her efforts in trying to get you to sympathize and though you don’t have much to argue against Mike because he really does seem like a nice guy and hasn’t done anything wrong, you don’t feel…. a connection. At all.

 “I mean he’s nice…. I guess? And like we talk, but I just don’t really feel anything? I don’t know….” You reply half mumbling distractedly, not really knowing how to explain but also finding that you don’t really care.

 “Is it because of that other guy who saved you?”

 You swear the speed in which you turn to Jaehee nearly knocks you off your own feet, heart thudding loudly against your ribcage that you have no time to discern if it’s from the alcohol or the thought of your Jimin impostor guardian demon.

 “W-What? Um, no! He’s—We’re not— I mean there’s nothing between us!” You get out, voice raising a little too high that it startles some other ladies who walked in. You shrink back as Jaehee lets out cackles and gives a hearty smack to your back, jerking you forward from the force. She startles you again by abruptly stopping midway to dramatically gasp, eyes wide and gleaming in a way that makes you nervous because inebriated Jaehee is often times too brash and too impulsive for her own good.

 “What if you just…. talk to him?” 

 “Who? Ji—?“ You almost make the mistake of saying his name aloud but you had lit Jaehee to cover for you, even if it was unintentional. 

 “Mike! You need to talk to him…alone.” She cuts you off, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

 “I— I don’t get it…?” 

 “You need to get a feel for him in person! And this is only the second time you’ve met and it’s always with me and Jason! No wonder you’re not connecting properly!” 

 “H-Huh?” You’re slow on the follow up because you thought you were still talking about Jimin?

 “I’ll tell you what!” Jaehee laser focuses on you and instinctively, your shoulder hunches up to brace for impact. “Why don’t I leave with Jason so we could give you some alone time?”

 You blink in disbelief and Jaehee pouts at your lack in response. 

 “C’mon, Y/N! How about just…thirty minutes? Yeah, thirty minutes! If you’re not feeling him even then…. then you can leave and I’ll never speak of it again."

 You think that’s about as good as it’s going to get with Jaehee and your mind processes and contemplates it as well. It’s not ideal but you don’t see any harm in chatting a guy one on one for thirty minutes, if it means you could say at least you tried and it’ll put this entire thing to rest once and for all.

 “Okay, fine.” You sigh out with reluctance. “Thirty minutes but that’s it.”

 Jaehee squeals and nods obviously pleased and with one last fluff to her hair, she pulls you out of the washroom and back to your table. Jason and Mike are unsurprisingly chatting it up and having a great time with each other (so much so that you think ruefully that maybe they should be left alone). But at yours and Jaehee’s approach, their attention is drawn, both shooting smiles.

 “Oh you’re finally back.” Jason remarks, “We got another bottle of grapefruit soju since it’s pretty good.” He picks up the green bottle to give it a shake. Jaehee however, makes to pull him up and out of his seat. He follows obediently, although a bit puzzled.

 “Oh sorry, I just remembered I have something to give you Jason so we need to get going.” Jaehee smiles blindingly, cheeks puffing up and eyes creasing as she continues to tug at Jason. “But hey, how about Mike and Y/N finish the bottle? We’ll get the bill this time, our treat! So you just take your time okay?"

 “Oh, uh, sure? If that’s okay?” Mike shifts his eyes to you as you awkwardly shuffle over to make way for the other couple. Your eyes dart to him, a nervous laugh bubbling past your lips as you rub your neck.

 “Y-Yeah, thanks Jaehee…Jason... No worries... I like grapefruit soju….”

 “Great! Then we’ll get going, it was nice seeing you again Mike! Bye Y/N, text me!” And before you know it, Jaehee zips off with Jason in tow and mentally you brace yourself; no doubt that this will probably be the longest thirty minutes of your life.

 Okay, Y/N relax. Just have a casual talk with this guy for thirty minutes and then you can leave and go to sleep. It’s not that deep. You think to yourself as you slide into the bench seat across from Mike who cracks open the bottle and graciously fill your glass for you. You take it with a smile and as he raises his up for you to clink against, you do so before downing it without hesitation, the drink still chilled enough that it seems to cool your nerves.

 Your conversations with Mike were as you had predicted; nothing of interest to note. You talked movies; about the food you just ate which lead to food preferences to other interests that you don’t go too in depth with (at least on your behalf, Mike doesn’t seem shy on talking about how he’s really into cars). 

 Eventually, you make the conscious decision of stopping yourself from taking anymore shots of soju because you realized by the second and a half glass, you’re starting to faintly feel the creeping affects of the alcohol, a light misting of inebriation blanketing your mind causing you to find it difficult to recall how much time has passed. So when Mike had offered to refill your glass, you politely decline. The bottle was still a little more than halfway done, and though Mike attempts to get you to help him out, you were steadfast in sobering up by the time you get to leave.

 Besides, the alcohol is starting to mess with your sense of judgment in which you can actually feel the deterioration of a rather vital thing to your conscious; a filter.

 Which brings you to eyeing your phone surreptitiously from under the table, what should’ve been just a peek to read Jaehee’s text reminding you to call her if you needed anything, turned into a rapidly growing curiosity of ‘what-ifs’ that involve a certain demon.

 What if you just…talk to him?

 You’re hearing Jaehee’s words echo in your head, though you swear somewhere in the back of your mind they’re way out of context. But the point of it remains; what would happen if you were to send a text to him? Would he be annoyed? Would he text back? Hell, you don’t even know if he’s still alive! What if his boss was unsatisfied with his work and just straight up burned him to a crisp with the infernal flames of hell?! Oh my god! Why haven’t you thought of that before?! Now it’s been over a week since you’ve last heard of him you’re so stupid—!

 “Hey, Y/N!” 

 “…Huh? Oh? Sorry did you say something?”

 Mike, who stares at you with a rather glazed look, pulls you from irrationally making one direct call to hell. A quick glance at the soju bottle tells you he’s made good work on it, coming down to the last glassful. A little pink in the face but he still looks way better than you would if you'd down that much soju. 

 “I was askin’ if you had a boyfriend.”

 Oh.

 “Um…’s been a while; got too busy with school and work.” 

 “So…do I have a chance with you?”

 …. HUH?

 You freeze, doing a double take. “W-What?”

 “You know, a chance to be with you…"

 Okay so you didn’t hear wrong. That still doesn’t mean you know how to respond to that appropriately. You didn’t want to hurt him because you’re sure it’s liquid courage that’s making him ask this, also the fact that he hasn’t done anything to upset you.

 “Aha…whoa uh,” You flounder through a nervous laugh because you’d rather get some sort of response out instead of remain silent. “I uh, I…dunno…?” 

 “What’s not to know?” He asks rather boldly and you’re completely taken aback. “I thought we had somethin’ goin’ on.” 

 “H-Hey, I think you’re a nice guy, but I don’t think I'm really looking for a relationship right now. I’m sorry if I lead you on somehow.” 

 “So would you ever love me?”

 Now you’re speechless, can’t really believe just how fast things have snowballed that it almost has your mind sobering up in an instant. You’ve tried your best to let him down gently but it’s like it’s not getting through to him. Perhaps you should take it as a sign as your cue to leave.

 “Uhh…I think I should go. You should go too! It’s…late. It’s been nice.” You slide out from the other side, clutching at your purse and phone. Your heart’s pounding in your chest again and you can feel it pulsing in your ear too. You fumble with shaky fingers to type in your phone’s lock code, getting it wrong twice before getting it right to tap on Jaehee’s number. You press the phone close to your ear, letting the dial tone ring as your feet take you out of the restaurant and onto the streets. The chilly night air does wonders in further clearing your mind but it also makes you painfully aware of how hot your face still feels.

 “Hey Y/N! How’s the date going?” Jaehee’s cheery voice comes through after the third ring. 

 “H-Hey Jaehee! Uh..um…I wouldn’t say well…? He might have had too much to drink so he sorta—“ You’re speed walking in the direction of your home, completely tunnel visioning so you fail to notice a pair of heavy footsteps fast approaching you from behind. A force almost knocks you over; you stumble forward in a mess of legs, fighting to stay upright the same time you feel your phone being ripped out of your grasp.

 “Jaehee? Is that you? Y-Yeah everythin’s okay! I’m okay! Y/N’s takin’ me home now, drank too much haha! She’s just lettin’ ya know! Yeah, yeah no don’t worry! Okay bye!” 

 By the time you’ve righted yourself, Mike’s hung up on Jaehee with the bullshit he’s spewed. You’re absolutely livid when you turn on him with a glare so piercing you’d think Jimin would be proud.

 “What's wrong with you?!” You yell out, trying to snatch your phone back but Mike who’s significantly taller than you, easily keeps it at bay with minimal effort. It only makes you fly more into a blinding rage.

 “W-Wait! Let’s head back to my place and chill?”

 “Like hell I would! Give me back my phone!” 

 “At least walk with me to the subway?” 

 You’re heaving with effort, energy exerted from your fail attempts at getting your phone and your pause to catch your breath must’ve made him think you were going to agree to his request because he’s looking at you hopefully. You wanted to laugh in his face but you’d rather face the devil himself at this point than be with this guy for another minute.

 “I’ll call you an Uber! Now give me my phone!” You seethe.

 “C’mon Y/N, don’t be like that. I’ve been nice to you so can you at least—“

 You swear steam is coming out of your ears at this point, your hands shaking at the audacity and just when you’ve locked in your choice to rugby tackle him with all your body mass, another voice cuts through the both of you.

 “I do believe the young lady said no.” His drawl is a bone-chilling calm that you could almost feel the temperature drop even further by it. 

 Under the flickering street lamp’s light, you catch a wisp of black smoke; the tendrils trail before fading out of sight over Mike’s shoulder. You follow it up until you reach Mike’s hand — the one holding your phone — where you see extra digits wrapped firmly around his wrist, nails digging into the skin. Mike’s head whips behind him alarmed, to reveal the shockingly beautiful face you’ve come to know.

 Jimin stands unperturbed behind Mike who visibly struggles against his hold, even when Jimin is at least a good inch shorter than him. His face an inscrutable mask and eyes swirling a deep garnet, the only thing betraying his utter displeasure.

 “H-Hey what the fuck man! Who are—ARGH!!” Mike’s exclamations turns into a howl of pain at the sounds of a crack, hand dropping your phone to which Jimin smoothly catches and lets him crumple to the ground to cradle his wrist. You step back to avoid being in his line of falling, mouth gaping and trying to catch up with what just happened. So far, you’ve only registered that Jimin is here.

 “Darling you’ll catch flies if you keep that up.” Jimin tuts, stepping over Mike’s curled up body. He takes your hand and places your phone in it and you’re in such disbelief that you nearly drop it. He still looks immaculate as ever, dressed in an all black except this time he’s wearing a cozy looking turtleneck under a leather jacket and fitted jeans. His hair is styled in the usual way it is — coiffed with a few strands hanging over his forehead with such volume that it made you envious— but you’re shocked to see that it was no longer plain silver; there’s a blueish tint to it now. The sight mesmerizes you.

 Jimin goes to say something teasing, you just know it as you see the upturn corner of his mouth but before he can get it out, a shuffling and a grunt from behind makes his face drop back into the frighteningly stony mask again, plush lips drawn into a line. You see Mike stumble to his feet, still clutching at his wrist while trying to burn a hole into the back of Jimin’s head. 

 It was then that you realize that Mike, a human much like yourself, is staring directly at Jimin and now that you think about it, he had also addressed Jimin when he first appeared just as he does now.

 “W-Who the fuck do you think you are?!” Mike growls. Jimin merely scoffs; you don’t need to see his face to know he’s probably rolled his eyes. But instead of addressing the angry man, Jimin slaps on a benevolent smile your way and begins to usher you.

 “Come darling, you must be cold standing out here and we really ought to get—“ He cuts himself off by reaching up and catching a flying fist aimed at him. You gasp out in shock at the speed and the suddenness of Mike actually having the balls to try to throw a punch. Eyes wide, you look up to gauge Jimin’s reaction to find that yes, he looks pissed; jaw clenched and eyes burning with hellfire itself.

 You let out a surprise yelp as Jimin clamps down on Mike’s fist and with little effort, flips him and begins to drag him off, heading to an alley concealed by shadows. You scurry after him after snapping out of your initial shock, panicked and stuttering out words incoherently because you are not going to have another dead body on your conscious, at least not someone who you actually knew no matter how douche-y he turned out to be.

 “I’ll break your other wrist, and then your legs, and then your neck. And if you want a tour of hell, come back three more times.” You hear Jimin spit out between gritted teeth, but you highly doubt it got through to Mike who’s too busy writhing, screaming and cursing from the ground.

 “Jimin! Wait, I said no killing! Jimin! Hey, you jerk! Listen to me!” You had to yell over Mike’s voice, wondering how it is that you guys haven’t woken up the whole neighbourhood yet as you push against Jimin’s very firm chest to get him to halt in his tracks.

 “Sweetie, not now. I need to enact the Lord’s good graces and teach this petulant human some manners.” 

 “That does not make any sense! And—SHUT UP!” The incessant yelling from Mike finally gets to you, having heard enough of his voice for the night as you impulsively deliver an adrenaline filled kick to his face. He knocks out immediately.

Jimin drops his hold on Mike’s fist with an unceremonious thump, bewildered. “Way to kill steal from me, pumpkin.”

 You gasp loudly, nerves shaken from what you just did and what Jimin has just told you as a new wave of rising panic sets in. “O-Oh my god did I actually kill him?! Is he dead?! I didn’t mean—!”

 Your demon guardian throws his head back, a boisterous laughter escaping him as he folds in on himself. You jump back startled and could only stare on in silent horror because of course he would find this funny and would be of no help!

 “J-Jimin! This isn’t funny! What are we gonna do now?!” 

 “Relax darling…” He finally wheezes out, straightening himself up while wiping the corner of his eyes. “He’s not dead, unfortunately; just K.O’ed by a swift kick to the face. Probably broke his nose though so good job on that.” 

 You gape like a fish out of water and all he does is stare back at you with the lingering traces of a fond smile that has your traitor of a heart skipping a beat. Damn him!

 “You—!” You start, huffing and puffing and though words escape you, your fists don’t as you land a hit on his chest. He takes it with little resistant, relenting himself as you let out your pent up frustrations. “You stupid jerk and your pretty stolen face! Just showing up like you own the place without even saying anything to me for more than a week! And then let some other stupid jerk try to get a jump on me! Some guardian demon you are! I could’ve just handled it all myself!” 

 You tire yourself out by the time you’re done your tirade, strength leaving your arms as they slap uselessly against the leather of his jacket until you stop altogether. Jimin’s quiet, the quietest you think he’s ever been. You refuse to make eye contact with him, staring determinedly down on his shiny black loafers but instead of some snarky comment about owing him for using him as a punching bag, you hear a shuffle of movement and then something heavy drapes over your shoulder, a waft of all too familiar vanilla lavender smell easing whatever remaining tension left in your body.

 Your gaze automatically whips up to his. He busies himself securing the jacket to you before his eyes wander to meet yours; the soft brown colour that stares back comforts you.

 “You’ve had a rough night darling, and I’m sorry I wasn’t there. So I’ll forgive you for beating up my Saint Laurent jacket and we’ll call it even?” 

 For a moment, you thought of scowling him and his love for name brand things but all you really want to do now is go home and fall asleep, so you nod softly, giving in. Jimin lets out a quiet chuff of amusement, hand coming up to stroke your hair with a gentleness that has your heart aching with the disgruntlement that you do miss having him by your side.

 “Y/N!” A shout freezes you up like cold water being dumped over your head as you whip towards the source of the call. To your astonishment, you see a familiar face running towards you, her figure unmistakable and as she draws nearer, you can see clearly who it is.

 It’s Jaehee.

 She slows to a stop, panting heavily from how hard she must’ve ran, shoulders slumped as she braces herself on her knees but even then she’s still trying to muster out words in between gasps of breath. “You called and….suddenly Mike was on the phone! Saying how he drank too much? That you were taking him home! And I just…I had such a bad feeling I had to… Are you okay?!”

 Jaehee makes to lunge at you but stops midway as she finally notices your frozen, wide eyed appearance and you see with pinpoint accuracy the way her eyes trail from your face to your shoulders to the extra hand on your shoulder all the way up to Jimin who is quite at a loss for words as well. 

 You watch with baited breath as she squints up at him with a gaze so fixated on analyzing him, a myriad of emotions flitting across her own face before she utters.

 “Have I…seen you from somewhere?”

[bubblesandgutz]

Every Record I Own - Day 287: Daughters Hell Songs

Very few “heavy” bands truly live up to the misanthropy they project through their music. But Daughters were different. Over the course of a U.S. tour together, I got to know the guys in the band pretty well, and they were a rare instance where their personalities were as fucked up as their music. Don’t get me wrong---they were all great people. But there was something inherently damaged in their chemistry. They were barely functional as a unit, but that made their music seem all the more dangerous.

A year or two after that tour, Continuum Books announced open submissions for their 33 1/3 book series, wherein authors analyze classic albums and assess their cultural impact. I knew I didn’t stand a chance, but I pitched a book on Hell Songs. My thesis was pretty basic: heavy music is typically just theater, but Daughters was real life drama, and that made their music that much more intense. As per their submission guidelines, I wrote an opening chapter. The pitch was rejected, but I wound up posting the chapter online, where it caught the attention of Robotic Empire, the label that put out Daughters’ debut LP. They offered to print the book. And so for the next year-and-a-half I dedicated all my spare time to questioning the individual band members, chasing down old tour mates, stitching together the chronology of their history, reading old interviews, and writing the damn thing. I submitted a first draft to the band and waited two weeks to hear back from them.

They eventually asked to cancel the project. There were disagreements within their camp as to how shit actually went down. And, understandably, there were a lot of grimy details that they weren’t too excited to share publicly. It was disappointing, but understandable. I figured a certain amount of rejection is inevitable as a writer, and this one at least had a valid excuse, so there wasn’t much of a sting.

Anyhow, I’ve posted the first chapter after the jump. The writing seems a little corny now, so maybe I ultimately dodged a bullet.

“Yeah, I’ve been called a sinner...”

And so begins Daughter’s 2006 sophomore album Hell Songs--with a declaration of degradation. Vocalist Alexis S.F. Marshall, or Lex for short, wears the insult proudly, announcing it with the kind of defiant pride of Hester Prynne and her scarlet letter. And then a cascade of noise descends upon the final syllable. The song, “Daughters Spelled Wrong”, is one minute and 42 seconds of Lex’s self-flagellations delivered in a slurred Southern Baptist preacher’s drawl. In that short parcel of time, Lex lists off every slanderous label he’s endured.

“…wrong-doer, evil-doer…”

As the front man for Daughters, Lex was the human element to the band. And while his performance on Hell Songsis unnerving enough in its own right, his tirades became exponentially more menacing live. With his stringy waist-long hair, his tall and gangly frame, his wiry handle-bar mustache, his hopelessly tattered black pants (apparently his only pair), and his ill-fitting stained white dress shirt, he gave off an aura of someone who didn’t give a fuck about the pageantry of rock music. He wasn’t even fashionably unfashionable. Grooming, hygiene, and composure were neglected. He looked disheveled, poverty-stricken, strung out. Most Daughters sets found Lex in less attire, usually just a pair of briefs. Far from the display of muscle and machismo seen in chiseled frontmen like Henry Rollins, Anthony Kiedis, and Chris Cornell, there was nothing erotic about near-nude Lex. Sexual? Certainly, but only in the most degrading, animalistic sense of the word. Lex’s stage presence only served to make the audience as uncomfortable as possible. He would claw red lines into his belly, cram his entire fist into his mouth, fellate the microphone, and drool on himself while fondling his genitals. In moments where audience members chose to interact with him on stage, the results were equally filthy. People vied for his spit. Women pulled at his briefs. Fans fondled and licked his exposed cock. A confessed “sex addict”, Lex would swap spit with both men and women mid-set and fuck fans in venue bathrooms. His tally of sexual conquests was startling, given his disturbing stage behavior and lack of sociability. Claiming a bad acid trip as the root of his social anxiety, Lex was nearly bipolar in his daily interactions. He was relatively friendly and talkative one moment, withdrawn and angry the next. A ninth-grade drop out and former homeless teenager, his bleak world-view was legitimate.

“…worker of iniquities…”

There’s no verse. No chorus. No rhyming scheme. No melody. It’s just one musical phrase repeating for the entire duration of the song. The instrumental accompaniment sounds like a broken machine filtered through the ears of someone simultaneously shuddering through a panic attack and immersed in vertigo. The sound underneath Lex’s litany is a study in all things wrong and counter-intuitive. The band—comprised of entirely capable and talented players—sounds like they’re deliberately unlearning their instruments. Cymbals crash without a kick drum to punctuate them. The bass guitar dives and climbs with little regard for actual notes. One guitar avoids the lower octaves completely and opts instead for atonal high-end screeching and skronky discord. The other guitar remains stuck on one warbled, seasick riff through the whole song, sounding off-balance and broken even when the whole band locks in around it. It’s confounding, ugly music.

“…transgressor, bad example, scoundrel, villain, knave…”

The annals of rock music have no shortage of bands showcasing the darker side of human nature. Ever since Robert Johnson sold his soul to the devil, ever since Jerry Lee Lewis set his piano on fire, ever since Iggy Pop rolled in broken glass, there has existed a certain sector of the rock community dedicated to exorcising its demons on stage. It’s the reason that concerned parents and church groups still argue that rock music is evil. This flagrant display of bad behavior, self-destruction, and reckless abandon is at the very root of rock music. And perpetuating rock’s legacy of danger requires raising the bar of rebellion. As rock music nears the age of retirement, its old tricks no longer impress young audiences. Chuck Berry and Little Richard carry none of the threat they did in their heyday. KISS terrified puritanical parents with the widespread rumors of their name serving as an acronym for Kids In Satan’s Service, but now they seem downright Christian in comparison to the blasphemous content of black metal bands like Gorgoroth. So prevalent is the anti-social contingent of music in today’s market that it’s hardly noteworthy for a band to parade its malice for an audience. The harder edged realms of rock music—metal and punk, for example—depend on that kind of antagonism. Daughters looked for one of those last few buttons to push, one of those last few taboos to break, one the last few ways to make people cringe. Perry Farrell noted well over two decades ago “nothing’s shocking.” Daughters challenged that statement.

“…miscreant, viper, wretch, the devil incarnate…”

It takes a certain brand of individuals to make nihilism translate into music, and it requires their contempt to be believable. Words like “genuine”, “sincerity”, and “honesty” get thrown around by critics and fans as signifiers of good music. How do those qualities apply to antagonistic musicians? Do the artists have to be genuinely miserable people to make convincingly ugly music? The artists who are typically the most successful at channeling this kind of dark art manage to convey that wrath and misery in both content and form. It’s not just a matter of singing about the pasty underbelly of the human psyche or throwing a few skulls on an album cover; it’s about the thoroughness of pessimism. It’s about creating a genuine sense of danger. And it requires a misanthropic honesty that carries itself both on and off-stage. It used to be that the entirety of the public’s perception of an artist stemmed from image they set forth on stage and on record. In the age of the internet, this is no longer the case. Even more so for a band of Daughter’s stature—a band that rarely had a backstage to slink off to, a band that still had to unload their own gear off stage, a band that still had to run back to the merch booth after their set to sling t-shirts for gas money, a band with no place to hide and sustain a fabricated mystique.

“…monster, demon, fallen angel, murderer, and thief…”

The Catch-22 is that being in a successful band—a band that can write music together, play shows, tour, record, maybe even make a little money—requires unity, solidarity, positivity, compromise, and sociability. In other words, a band that’s genuinely driven by angst and hostility is doomed for failure. Proof of the unsustainable nature of these kinds of acts is most evident in the dearth of popular nihilistic bands. Even the somewhat well-known misery peddlers tend to be tragically stunted. Notorious shock rock icon GG Allin made a career out of anti-social behavior and bilious lyrical themes. He was known to take the stage naked, ready to fight the audience and fling his feces at the crowd. He wrote songs with titles like “Last In Line For The Gang Bang” and “Fuckin’ The Dog”. He famously promised to kill himself on stage, which would have been the ultimate display of the self-destructive nature of negative music, but a heroin overdose beat him to it. Glen Benton, the vocalist and bassist for seminal death metal band Deicide similarly promised to off himself at the age of 33 as a mockery of Jesus Christ’s year of death. Benton failed to live up to his word. And while he will always be remembered for the controversy he created in his early career by branding an inverted cross into his forehead and advocating animal sacrifice, he tempered out in his later years when he became a family man with a wife and kids. Not surprisingly, the quality of Deicide’s albums declined, as did their album sales. Allin went too close to the edge and fell into the abyss. Benton mellowed out. Neither managed to sustain the malice of their classic records over a protracted career. Daughter’s brand of ugliness had none of Allin’s overt misogyny and violence, none of Deicide’s Christian-baiting Satanism. Instead, they specialized in a kind of implied depravity. Lex wouldn’t attack the venue patrons, but he’d do everything else in his power to make the audience take a squeamish step back. Even though their album title references Hell, there was no trumpeting of a contrarian religion in their lyrics, no acknowledgement of moral consequence. Instead, Lex sang about emotional voids. It somehow made Lex scarier than GG or Glen. He seemed smarter. Colder. Less confrontational, but also less vested in cheap stunts and outlandish behavior for the sake of winning over anyone’s approval. He wasn’t interested in violence. He was interested in degrading himself on stage, forcing the audience into an unnerving kind of voyeurism.

“…lost sheep, black sheep, black guard, loafer, and sneak…”

Even the millionaire “bad boys of rock”—artists like Alice Cooper, Guns N’ Roses, and Motley Crue—aren’t exempt from the imbalance of nihilism and authenticity. For one thing, these cultural giants never tread so far into the blackness that you feared them as people. Their worst crimes were their hedonistic appetites. They still came across as people that would be fun to party with. Marilyn Manson managed to up the ante of anti-social behavior in the ‘90s, but the controversy was calculated. Manson always knew how to articulate his more vitriolic statements in a calm, well-spoken, intellectual manner. It was obviously theater. Daughters didn’t come across as the life of the party. They didn’t come across as having any sort of deeper, thoughtful meaning to their art. They came across as genuinely bitter, crass, resentful individuals.

“…good-for-nothing ass-fucking son of a bitch.”

Daughters were a band that tried to find that balance between thorough, real ugliness and some kind of self-sustaining functionality. They wanted to be successful; they wanted to tour the world and make money. But they also wanted to make something truly hideous and uncomfortable. Their debut album, Canada Songs, was an 11-minute surge of hyper-paced noise-driven hardcore. Occupying the kind of punk/metal hybrid territory instigated by bands like The Locust and Dillinger Escape Plan, Daughters found an immediate audience among fans of frenzied, technical music. It was well-received, but not entirely unconventional for that particular style. But Hell Songs was different. The band ditched their lightning-speed tempos, metal-steeped instrumentation, and shrieking, indecipherable vocals for disjointed mid-tempo lurches and Lex’s drunken oratory. They weeded their old material out of their performances. The fans felt betrayed. They had gone from sounding like the arty descendents of the powerviolence and grindcore scenes into a tightly wound meth-fed version of The Birthday Party. There was a much stronger adversarial vibe to their new approach. Their sound was less tethered to any particular scene. It alienated a fan base that was already built on embracing disenfranchisement and being at odds with everything.

But deservedly, the record found an audience, albeit a small one. For as caustic and abrasive of an album as it is, there’s a surprising catchiness to the material. The low end groans; the high end piercingly buzzes like a swarm of insects; the drums flit from spasms of hyperkinetic pulverizations to deconstructed thuds and clatter; and Lex moans and howls over all of it. Yet somehow, Hell Songs is rife with hooks. There was a discipline to what they did. It could’ve easily devolved into white noise, but there was always a clarity and separation to the instruments. They were a tight band. And for the three years that followed the release of Hell Songs before the group imploded, Daughters came about as close as any band can get to being a total train wreck without rattling apart at the seams. There was fighting, a rotating cast of guitar players, drugs, infidelities, van accidents, hospital trips, lost money, rivalries with tourmates, promoters pulling guns on the band, and an never-ending list of lewd stage behavior. They were a fascinating, glorious mess, and they perfectly captured it over the course of ten songs.

“I’ve been called a sinner.”

[fanficsandfluff]

The Best Spider-Man

I took the liberty of kind of joining this prompt with this one. I tried my best to get a balanced feel of both of these prompts to make one cohesive story. Hope you like it, sweeties!

Words: 2,722

Another lab report due by the end of the week. Jesus, this was the third week in a row his teacher did that to the class. And that means a whole lot of staying up late typing the damn thing. Peter Parker knew he’d be getting straight A’s anyway. It was just another thing piled up on his week’s worth of science, math, language, english, and technical homework.

You can do it, Peter. You’re Spider-Man. You can do anything.

Oh right, Spider-Man. Yet another load onto Peter’s full plate. He wanted to be Spider-Man full-time! But unfortunately, it wasn’t up to him. It was up to Tony Stark. 

Speaking of the man, Tony had been paying Peter more visits. Whether it was to scold him or congratulate him on something, Tony was acting more and more like some father figure to the kid. Except when he wasn’t.

Tony had become semi-obsessed with teaching Peter everything he knew. How to be the most spidery Spider-Man ever. The training added another weight to Peter’s young shoulders. He could’ve easily said no and that he was too busy, but what would Mr. Stark think of him then? That he wasn’t strong enough to bear the burden of being Spider-Man? Hell no. He couldn’t have that. 

So Peter was stuck dealing with schoolwork, his social life, being a superhero, and making time for Iron Man’s teaching. Wow, he was so screwed. 

A weekend arrived. Finally! Some relaxation at last, right? His cell phone ringing and the voice of Tony being the caller told Peter that he was wrong to assume he’d ever get a break. 

The phone call went something like:

“Hey, kiddo. You free today?” “Me? Oh um, yeah I think so, Mr. Stark. Why?” “I was gonna ask Happy to pick you up and take you to the Towers. I have a new upgrade for your suit I think you’ll like.” “That’s... that’s real nice of you, Mr. Stark. Sure. I’ll come over.” “Great. See you soon.”

Peter sighed after he hung up and flopped down onto his bed, shutting his eyes. He needed sleep. If not sleep, he needed at least an hour with no worries and no responsibilities. 

But within half an hour, Peter was showered and dressed and Happy was downstairs ready to pick him up. He was too tired to even annoy Happy today.

Upon his arrival, Happy took Peter to the gym inside the upstate Avengers facility where Tony was waiting for him. 

“There he is. Spiderboy,” Tony teased gently, welcoming Peter with a smile. 

“Hi,” Peter mustered up his own smile and he waved to Tony.

“C’mere, let me show you what I have so far. Then I want your comments.”

Tony showed Peter a new power grid for his suit as well as a new program that improves Peter’s agility within it. That and a few other tweaks were what Tony started off with.  

Peter listened attentively, offering minor quips about the technology Tony was developing for those programs. Tony took in each one with humbled pride. 

“Alright, now that that’s out of the way, why don’t we take the suit for a test run? You and me? Sparring?” 

Peter almost threw up at the word, not imagining he could handle a full on fight after a night of no sleep. His tired look of disgust transformed into an appreciative smile just for Tony. 

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

Peter got changed into his Spidey suit and met Tony in a large sparring arena. 

“Now, I’m an old man so go easy on me,” Tony joked, hoping to get a crack of a smile or a laugh from the kid. Nothing. Tony sensed early on that something was on Peter’s mind, but he figured maybe not bringing it up was his best bet. 

Tony was trying to teach Peter all the new moves and specialty powers he could unlock from his suit. Tony was very aware how much this sounded like a video game tutorial. 

Peter would try. Most of the moves he’d get right, and a specialty web would shoot out of his wrist. But there was always one or two he stumbled on. 

“It’s alright, Pete. Why don’t we move on to the next one?”

Peter was panting, that one move taking a lot out of his sleep-deprived body. 

“T-There’s more?” 

“Only another five or so,” Tony shrugged, “Then I want you to actually use them. Against me.”

Peter wanted to groan out loud. He choked it back in his throat and continued on with the moves. 

Once it was the final new move, Peter found he didn’t have the stamina to do it. He tried and tried, over and over again. Each time the jumps and kicks taking more and more out of him. 

Tony couldn’t sense the fatigue so much and just continued watching, thinking Peter just had to find his groove. 

He was proved wrong when Peter tore off his mask and screamed, “I can’t do it!”

Tony stood still, shocked at the sudden outburst, “Peter...”

“I can’t do it! I-I know you want me to, Mr. Stark, but... there’s just so much going on right now. So damn much,” Peter threw his mask on the ground as tears welled up in his eyes, “I’m not the superhero you want me to be. B-But I’m trying! I’m doing my homework, studying for my tests, going out at night and stopping the bad guys and--” he sniffled, “It’s so much... You believe in me, I know. You put so much faith in me and here I am, unable to manage every little thing I should be able to. I’m not cut out for this, Tony,” a tear slipped down Peter’s cheek. Not waiting for Tony to give him any answers, Peter ran out of the sparring gym. 

Tony rocked back and forth on his heels. He then took a few steps forward and picked up Peter’s discarded mask. With calm, even steps, he went in search for Peter. After asking the Tower’s supercomputer where he was of course.

Peter ran through the Towers, going up a flight of stairs and turning a corner. He continued running until he found an open door. It seemed to be an unoccupied sleeping quarters. Probably unused and brand new, judging by the pristine-ness of it all and the smell. He ducked inside there and shut the door behind him. 

Peter took one look at himself in the mirror there and he got even more enraged. He screamed with anger and anxiety all mixed into one tearful shout. He ripped the suit off his body and kicked it after throwing it to the ground. Then he curled up on the pearly white bedsheets, sobbing quietly. Weak. That’s what he was. He couldn’t handle even the least bit of pressure. And he just exploded like that in front of Tony Stark. He was done being Spider-Man. That was the end, he was sure of it. 

Now only clad in boxers, Peter sniffled into the pillows, holding one close to his chest. 

Minutes past and Peter was still upset and crying. He couldn’t stop his tears once the stress took over. This had happened before.

Half an hour. Peter shut his eyes and was no longer crying. He cleared his mind and just sat in silence. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. By now, all expression on his face was nonexistent. A blank stare accompanied with red eyes from his fit of crying. 

A sudden knock on his door made Peter cringe and he rolled onto his side, back facing the door. He did not want to interact. 

Tony stepped in after waiting thirty seconds post-knock. He saw the forgotten suit on the ground first and then the curled up pale blob that was Peter. Tony sat down on the edge of the bed, fiddling with something in his hands. 

“When I was a little younger than you, and I’d be upset or stressed about something, you know what my dad would do? He’d stand in my room and tell me, ‘You’ve got to be better.’ Hmm,” Tony stared in front of him absently as he reminisced, “And I’d always think, gee... that was some shitty pep talking. I mean, he didn’t even say ‘You’re better than this,’ or ‘It’s okay, things will get better.’ I got none of that. And it’s funny because... every time I speak to you, the one thought always running through my mind is don’t be him. So I have to be better to you than my dad ever was to me. I’m failing,” Tony smiled sadly, “Clearly. I can’t read the signs that you’re tired. That you need a break. I mean, you’re just a kid. I’m starting to realize... I’m exactly like Howard.”

“No.”

Tony turned his head, surprised to hear the second voice pipe up. Peter was now sitting up, half his body still turned away from Tony. 

“You aren’t like that, Mr. Stark. You’re doing everything right, it’s me that’s the problem.”

“If you are still believing that you’re the problem, there’s something going on. Right?” Tony lifted half his leg onto the bed to look at Peter fully, “Pete, you’re an amazing kid. And I don’t say that to every Spiderboy I know.”

A glimmer of amusement shown in Peter’s eye.

“I picked you for a reason. Took you under my wing, gave you the suit, given you all the support I can give. I see the strength in you. I see what you’ve been through. And frankly, I see myself.”

Peter’s cheeks tinted with blush. 

“You get easily distressed, easily anxious, and pressure isn’t the thing you handle best. But I wouldn’t take my Spider-Man any other way. We both gotta just keep,” Tony gently socked Peter’s shoulder, “Rolling with the punches. I’ll be a better mentor. I’ll recognize the signs easier. I promise. I’ll work on that. And we’ll make you the best superhero you can be. Okay?”

Peter took in all of what Tony said and he nodded. Tony tossed the thing he’d been holding in his hands this whole time at Peter. The teen caught it and he sighed, now looking at his mask. 

“New York needs Spider-Man,” Tony concluded, shrugging his shoulders, giving Peter a knowing look. 

Peter nodded again and he was about to speak but another article of clothing got chucked into his face. Oh, how sentimental, Tony.

“No big speeches, that’s my job. And especially not when you’re half naked.”

Peter huffed and he grinned, seeing that Tony threw his change of clothes at him. 

“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” Peter slipped on his shirt. 

Peter knew Tony was doing all the right things. He had all the right instincts. Tony knew to give him some time to cool down, and when he confronted him, he wasn’t all about yelling at him to get him to come to his senses. He wasn’t lovey dovey with hugs or anything and that was nice, too. 

“So, what can I do to make it up to you?”

“Nothing. You don’t owe me anything.”

“I can take you out for ice cream. Isn’t that what dads do? Hell, you don’t know either so why am I even asking?”

Peter grinned again, “It sounds like something a dad would do. Especially taking his son to get the biggest soft serve cone out there.”

Tony reciprocated the grin, “Oh boy, it sounds like Peter’s being sassy.”

Peter stood up to pull his jeans on properly and he smiled at Tony, “I think I know who I got that from.”

Tony chuckled now, the joke still carrying on, “Wanna sit on dad’s lap and tell him all your woes? Girl troubles? Friend drama? Sexual escapades?”

Peter let out a laugh and he grabbed a pillow, pushing it into Tony’s back, “Stop! You’re soho creepy!”

Tony smirked and while Peter was pushing the pillow into him, he turned and was able to nab one of Peter’s arms and wrench him forward. So now Peter was on his back beside Tony. 

“What’s the big deal? I’m just trying to get my boy to confess to me,” Tony, while still holding one of Peter’s wrists, used his free hand to spider a set of fingers into the teen’s belly. 

The soft, teasing sensation send shocks up Peter’s spine, and he yelped. He could do little to stop it from happening, despite being Spider-Man.

“T-Tony! No wait! Plehease don’t!”

“My dad never did this to me. I gotta be his opposite, Pete, you know that.”

Tony latched onto both of Peter’s skinny yet muscular sides and kneaded them up and down. He heard Peter’s laughter escalate and he knew he was doing something right. 

“Thihis isn’t fair! NO! Tony, not thehehere! ACK!” 

Peter whined and cackled when Tony’s fingers crawled up to ripple against his ribcage. Peter struggled harder now and was able to wiggle himself away from Tony for a second. But he wound up with his upper half hanging off the side of the bed and Tony held onto him tighter so he wouldn’t move. With Peter’s ribs now sticking out more prominently thanks to his back being stretched, Tony massaged and caressed his way up each and every rib. 

Peter’s mouth was open in a wide smile, desperate laughter pouring from his lips. He could barely form words to beg Tony to stop. But did he really even want this to stop? This was a drastic 180 compared to his earlier behavior. 

“SHIHIT!” Peter wailed and panted when he got a break. Tony’s fingers stilled on his highest ribs, Peter’s arms clamping protectively to his sides. 

“How’re you holding up?” Tony asked with a wicked grin, his face popping over the edge of the bed to look at Peter. 

“J-Juhust don’t go any hihigher...” Peter panted, his head hanging back to savor this moment’s rest. 

Tony rose a curious brow, “Does the spider have a weak spot under his arms?”

Peter blushed and tried worming away again, “Noho he doesn’t!” the teasing wasn’t helping his predicament at all.

Tony smirked and he slid his hands up under Peter’s protective arms and wiggled his fingers briefly just to test it. Peter shrieked just from those two seconds of tickling, and Tony could feel his arms press harder into his sides. 

The billionaire playboy resumed his tickle attack, able to scritch every bit of skin in Peter’s armpits just fine. Peter threw his head back and dislodged himself from Tony’s hold just a little more so now he was hanging upside down from the bed. 

“TOHONYYY! STAHAAA!” Peter was done for now. He couldn’t finish words and all that overtook him was his own laughter. 

“Isn’t this like the part of you always vulnerable? What with you swinging on webs and climbing buildings? Geez, some warning would’ve been nice before we named you Spider-Man. Better planning should go into future heroes if they’re all as ticklish as you.”

Peter’s face got even redder and he shook his head back and forth, unable to escape Tony’s torturous digits. They wouldn’t stop wiggling and digging into his hollows. It was hell. 

Eventually, Peter’s squirming got to be so adamant that he fell off the bed and landed on the floor with a soft thud. Tony chortled and looked down at Peter. 

“You good, Pete?”

Peter was still giggling, and he looked right up at Tony, “Behetter.”

Tony’s heart warmed and he got off the bed, helping Peter to his feet. He couldn’t help but ruffle the kid’s hair affectionately. Tony decided to call off the suit repairs and training for the rest of the day. He even offered to help Peter with his schoolwork, but the brainiac declined, as Tony expected. 

Before Peter left with Happy, he ran towards Tony and squeezed him in a tight hug. 

“See you, Mr. Stark.”

Tony smiled and he patted Peter’s back, “Go show that chemistry teacher who’s boss.”

Peter laughed and nodded before jogging off to meet up with Happy at the car. He spun around and waved to Tony one last time before leaving. 

Tony stood there and watched the car drive off. Now that was the Spider-Man he’d come to know and love.