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illiana-mystery · 1 year ago

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Okay, so I will admit, this unfinished fic is definitely a little different from my usual writing. I mean it's not that far off the beating path, but it is different.

That being said, this was an idea that I might pick up again in the future. I don't know yet though. I have so many other projects going on, so if I do pick it back up again it's gonna be a minute.

But without further ado, this is the first chapter of a fic I called Blind Ambition. The premise was that it was about the past of Lorraina Maria Amato, the antagonist in my fic, Cloud 9 (that I'm hoping to update soon).

It would chronicle her exploits and run ins with Jameson, Norman, and Otto as a junior reporter at The Daily Bugle. It would eventually end with her leaving New York and finding a new life in Georgia.

(How I picture young Norman and Otto. Read the Author's Note below.)

Today, I'm sharing with you the first chapter of this fic. Enjoy and let me know if you would be interested in reading more in the future! 😉😌

THIS CONTENT IS 18+. MINORS DNI. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

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Blind Ambition (chapter 1)

Chapter Summary: Lorraina, referred to as Lori by her boss, is annoyed with her standing as a junior reporter at The Daily Bugle. Especially since she's having an affair with her boss, J. Jonah Jameson. However, her luck is about to change when she finally gets the news she's been wanting to hear. She's finally gonna get to interview Dr. Osborn and Dr. Octavius.

Author's Note: This fic takes place in the mid 90s, so I imagine that Norman would look kinda like John LeTour from Light Sleeper and Otto would look like Stephen Arden from Species. So if I do pick this back up, that's what they would look like in that next chapter. Jameson is starting to go grey, so his hair color is still mostly dark brunette but is the same cut.

Content Warnings: Office Sex, Age Gap, Adulterous Affair, Mention of an ED, Possessive Behavior

It was a boiling hot afternoon in the city known as the Big Apple and while its many citizens were trying to hustle and bustle their way back to their designated offices after their lunch breaks, there was one young and determined junior reporter that stayed behind.

She stared out her window for just a moment, looking down at all of the people scrambling to get out of the scorching heat while trying to stay away from the blistering asphalt that only carried taxi cabs in its path.

She laughed at the sight and went back to the black and green abyss she called her work computer.

Happily, her fingers typed away before she took another bite of her half-eaten tuna fish sandwich. Like clockwork, her fingers traveled to find a bag of salt and vinegar chips but disappointment only followed once she realized she didn't have a bag.

No, she was trying to cut her salt intake and be a little healthier. She couldn't risk gaining weight or that meant she would be kissing her cozy office and her beneficial relationship goodbye.

A sigh only left her lips and instead her hands went around her small Diet Coke that she happily sipped.

The junior reporter was the only person at the office today except for her boss, but she was fine with that. She could finally hear herself think and peacefully write the piece that she knew would knock her boss right off his feet.

She knew it was so good that he would be forced to transfer her to the actual news section of the paper.

Her tranquility between her lips only lasted for a little while before her boss barged in. She jumped, but quickly patted down her stubborn curls and fixed the butterfly clips that decorated her hairstyle.

Her chair slowly turned and she faced her boss for the first time that day.

His short buzz cut hair was gently blowing under the air conditioning vent and he was nursing a cigar between his lips. His baby blues thoughtfully looked her over as a cheeky grin slowly surface in between his cigar.

His inferior just smiled back and twirled one of her curls in her finger before he finally spoke.

"Are you almost done with your piece, Lori?" he asked curiously in his smoky, deep voice.

"Yes, I'm almost done. Would you like to see what I wrote so far?" she softly asked before motioning him with her finger to come closer.

"Hmm, stand," he commanded before she did so.

Happily, she watched as he sat down in her chair and blew some smoke from his cigar. He quickly motioned her to come sit on his lap which she did almost immediately.

Pleased by her eagerness, he put his cigar out and placed it to the side before his lips landed on her neck and collarbone. She was surprised by his sudden affection, but she also enjoyed it.

He knew all of her sensitivities, which made him a much better lover than a boss.

"Hmm, JJ, am I turning you soft?"

"Quite the contrary," he huffed before he slipped her skirt and panties off. "I usually have my own fun at this time, but since we're the only ones here..."

She just rolled her eyes and waited until he slipped off his pants and boxers, to slowly lower herself on his waiting 8 inches. He let out a small whimper as she did so before he started a little rhythm thrusting in and out of her.

"Now let's see your article," he said as he kept his pace up. "Hmm...NYC mayor busted for embezzling campaign funds...wait, wasn't this Cynthia's story?"

"It was," she evilly chirped.

The man beneath her couldn't help but laugh too.

Honestly, he was impressed by her cutthroat nature, but he still had to keep his paper running as smoothly as possible. He just couldn't have the gossip and events reporter stealing stories from the head reporter he worked with for years. Sure, she was his girlfriend and he was fucking her right now, but that didn't mean he owed her any favors.

"No, no, no, this just won't do, Lori. You can't go around stealing stories from Cynthia..."

"Oh, I can't? Well, maybe I'll just..." she started while trying to get off of him. He tightly grabbed her hips and roughly thrusted back inside of her making her moan and yelp in pleasure.

"You're not going anywhere, Lori. I made you and you'll have no where else to go if you leave me," he declared as he started pounding into her harder.

Not a retort or complaint came from her, so that meant she was over her little temper tantrum.

"Are you calm, now?" he asked in her ear.

"I guess so," she moaned. "Oh, you're hitting my G-spot so well."

"No one else will make you feel as good as I do. Remember that."

"Oh, I'm remembering. Damn," she panted.

He snickered in her ear and whispered, "Take your top and bra off."

With no hesitation, she stripped the rest of her clothes off and happily witnessed her superior rub his callus hands all over her perky C-cup breasts. She mewed in delight and leaned her head against his shoulder as he started to knead her milk bags with his rugged hands.

"You're such a good whore," he whispered. "I might need to have you come to my office more...scratch my itch..."

"Yes, JJ," she cooed before he chuckled in her ear.

"Now where was I? Oh yes, Lori, you can't steal stories from Cynthia. She's my top journalist on the team. We've worked together and known each other longer than I've known you."

"So?"

"So? Really, Lori? Stop being a brat. You're my gossip and events reporter. Stay focused on that."

"So you're not gonna publish my story? I worked so hard on this. I even got in contact with Cynthia's contact before she did."

"As much as I admire you tenacity, I won't publish your story. I'm gonna publish Cynthia's original story."

"But...but..."

"Don't do this, Lori. I'm not gonna just let you do whatever you want just because we're fucking. You have to earn your spot in the news section.

"And here I thought sucking your dick and letting you fuck me in my office chair would give me perks."

"Well, actually, I do have one little perk for you."

"And that would be?"

"Remember how you've been dying to interview Dr. Osborn and Dr. Octavius?" he asked, pinching her nipples.

"Yes," she mewed.

"Well, I might have lined up an interview with both of them for you."

"What?!" she exclaimed. "You did? For me?"

"Of course..."

"Now I can ask Dr. Osborn about his business practices..."

"No, no, no," he whispered in her ear. "I already told his secretary why you're interviewing him and Dr. Octavius."

"And what did you tell her?"

"I told her that you're only gonna ask them about their work and the 1st annual Oscorp Gala."

"They're having a gala?"

"Yes, now get up and lean against your desk with your elbows," he commanded. She happily obliged and he followed as they maneuvered into this new position, his cock still deep inside of her.

Once she was comfortable again, he started pounding into her over and over again with vigor. The woman beneath him was panting and moaning from his love making.

"Do you want me to attend the gala too?"

"The gala is invite only," he grunted. "You know for shareholders and employees and their plus ones. But if Norman invites you, I think you should attend."

"What if he asks me to be his plus one?" she slyly whispered.

Her words fell on her boyfriend hard and suddenly he just stopped fucking her. She was about to have a fit, that was until he roughly bit down on her neck leaving a pretty big, nasty bruise on her neck.

She jerked up in pain and as she was about to scold him, he started fucking her once more leaving her words as nothing more than unspoken nonsense.

"I doubt he would ask you to be his plus one, Lori. I don't think foul-mouthed short women are his type."

"Says you," she said before panting like a warm dog.

"Well," he started breathlessly as he quicken his pace inside of her, fucking her like it was his last opportunity to do so, "If he did, hypothetically, then I would still want you to go. But you're mine, Lori. Remember who you belong to."

"Of course, JJ," she whimpered. "Oh, oh, I'm so close."

He just snickered and grabbed her arms, pulling them behind her back as he fucked her to her final orgasm. Her scream of pleasure reached the heavens and soon were met by his grunts of feral copulation as he finally released his seed inside of her abused sanctum.

As soon as he went limp, he pulled out and let go of her hands. Her weak and wrecked hands gently gripped the desk as she caught her breath. JJ just stared at her ass after he threw his clothes back on haphazardly, the view of his seed slowly oozing out of her right in his field of vision.

The scene made him snicker in delight, knowing that only he could enjoy her cave of wonders.

But the sight of her perfectly round ass was also nice, so nice in fact, that he gave into temptation and slapped it. She jumped, but to his surprise didn't say anything back to him.

"Get dressed," he commanded. "You're free to go."

"It's not even close to 5 yet."

"I know. But you're the only one here and I already had my fun with you. Besides, you need to get ready for your interviews tomorrow. Wear something nice and sexy," he said before he left.

Lori just groaned and rolled her eyes before she grabbed one of the tissues from her desk and wiped the access cum off of her legs. Once wiped, she threw her clothes back on and just stared at her almost fully drunken can of Diet Coke and her almost finished tuna sandwich.

However, she didn't have the stomach to finish her meal so she just threw it out and sat back down in her chair, trying to ignore her boss' cum still deep between her legs.

For once, she felt dirty being nothing but a living sex toy for Jameson.

What was the point of letting him use her for sexual gratification, if he didn't let her climb up the ladder faster than her colleagues?

And how dare he claim that she wasn't Norman's type? How would he know? Still, she needed this job so she would just have to stay Jameson's sex toy... for now.

After her thoughts subsided, she packed up her things, locked her office door, and headed for the elevator. Jameson told her to have a good night, but she didn't respond.

Jameson didn't take kindly to that though. She was his...his property and he was not gonna let her be a brat or sassy to him.

The elevator doors slowly opened after about a minute, but before she could step in, Jameson grabbed her arm and pulled her away.

"What the fuck?!"

"I said have a good night."

"Oh, I guess I didn't hear you. You have a good night too," she jeered before turning her back on him.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" he sniedly asked.

"No, don't think so," she remarked before he grabbed her again and forcibly kissed her lips.

She pushed him back immediately though.

"Get off of me. I think you've had enough fun with me for the evening."

"Well, excuse me for trying to be more affectionate to you. I'll see you tomorrow then and I hope you'll be staying the night..."

"We'll see. See you tomorrow," she grumbled before taking the next elevator down.

---

Once she left the building, she was greeted by the same sweltering heat her fellow New Yorkers were suffering though previously. She couldn't help but remember how callously she laughed at them, but now she was suffering through this heatwave.

Shameless Plug:

If you want to read something Halloween related, I just posted the first chapter of my vampire fic, Bloodlust. Check out my masterlist pinned at the top of my blog for the link or just visit my AO3 account. My name is AriesJones for those who don't know. Happy reading! 😉💙

#wip #wip idea #work in progress #spiderman fic #raimiverse fic #raimiverse #spiderman #90s au #j jonah jameson #norman osborn #otto octavius #fanfiction #fanfic

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philliamwrites · 2 years ago

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Um do you do requests because If it alright can some one make genderbend story with fem eren and male reader and like fem eren is a bully and the male reader put fem eren in her place. Based on Eren pov if hard for you write for male.

A/N: Ooohhh this is so exciting, the first real request ehehehehe, thank you, nonny!

Since there wasn’t a specific mention if this should be nsfw or not, I kept it sfw-ish (except the end lol) I hope it’s fine! (and there’s always the option to commission me for very specific things, just DM me). I took some liberty and changed the dynamic that you’d usually read (bully! Eren / nerd! Reader) and made them both over-competitive jocks, only Eren is mean about it.

Warnings: fem! Eren / male! Reader; unresolved sexual tension, swearing, sport-typical violence; Reader is also taller than Eren; 18+ Minors DNI; not proofread; implied male receiving oral sex by fem.

You have it in the bag. Five steps away from the goal, a clear shot before you, nobody in your way. The stick feels good in your hands, its familiar weight an extension of your own limbs, a weapon to clear a path towards the goal.

Jean screams from behind the restraining line to take the shot—“Take the fucking shot, you dumbass, what are you waiting for?!”—but you feel Coach Levi’s inscrutable look from the side line like a physical touch around your throat; Patience with capital P has never been your strong suit, and you don’t want to spend another thirty minutes after practice getting chewed up by Levi; or worse, signed up to run a marathon.

Connie’s waiting behind the goal line, his eyes rivetted on you, goalie stick raised in anticipation. He knows your moves, you’ve both started playing at the same time, three years ago after making the drunk decision to give it a try and having fallen in love with the sport ever since. He’ll expect a feint. He knows you’re good at those, and you know nothing pisses him off more than falling for that dirty little trick. Which is exactly the reason you’ll do a behind-the-back-shot.

Or you’d like to, were it not for a lightning-quick body slamming into yours like a wrecking ball, throwing you to the ground. Multiple things happen at once. You feel a stick snatching the ball out of your pocket; you hear Jean’s swears as he roars for the defence to fall back behind the restraining line; you see Eren’s lithe, muscular form as she steals the ball from you and throws a long pass forward to Sasha, bringing the ball across half the field and away from the attack zone.

She turns around briefly, and through the metal bars of her face mask you see her striking green eyes flashing wish mischief as she looks down on you. When you try to get up, the head of her stick pushes into your chest painfully, keeping you on the ground.

“Don’t bother,” she says, and just hearing her voice, the snarl in it, makes you want to kick her legs from under her. “You’ll do your team a favour by staying out of the game.”

Before you can reply, she’s already rocketing off, down the field to your defence zone, and you’re not proud of the fact how your eyes immediately fix on her long legs in that short, white skirt that’s riding up her ass as she runs.

A gloved hand hooks around your elbow and pulls you up to your feet. Marco gives you a pat on the back, dusting dirt off you. “Don’t let her get to you,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice behind the mask. “She’s unstoppable when she’s having a good day. Let’s hope Mikasa’ll shut down some shots. Oh, and don’t take Jean’s complains too much to heart.”

You watch them squabble at the other side of the field, feeling your heart drop to your stomach. You don’t give a shit about Jean. Levi’s disappoint, however, is palpable from the side line. It’s like someone just shot his dog.

“Exercise patience,” he always says. “But if you see Jaeger coming at you, you take that fucking shot as if your life depends on it, got it?”

The locker room is empty when you finish showering and pack up. You should get a fucking medal for the self-restrain you’ve practiced not drowning Jean under the showers after he gave you so much shit because “If you’d put your little girlfriend on a leash, we wouldn’t have that fucking problem. Every. Single. Time.”

Girlfriend. As if anyone can put a leash on Eren, especially when her brain is hardwired to stop at nothing to accomplish her goal. Start a fight with someone from an opposing team for giving her a weird look? Eren prefers not wearing gloves simply for the fact that she loves having her knuckles skinned bloody. Get Floche to do her assignments for International Politics? He’s eating out of her palm like a dog, easily submitting herself to Eren laughing at him whenever he’s asking her out for a real date. Knock you down on your ass? Her favourite pastime.

Just the thought of her, of her wide, forest-green eyes, garlanded by pretty, thick lashes the colour of ink against her sun-kissed skin, hits you with the force of a train. Fury: white-hot, boiling, venomous. You want to do something that shuts her up, makes her swallow her mean words—Christ, if you could make her cry, make her feel small and insignificant; make her look up at you and really see you, her round, soft cheeks flushed crimson, her full, red lips slightly opened as you drag your thumb over her bottom lip, your other hand secured around her throat—

Your hand would fit around her neck so perfectly—

“You done wanking one in the showers?”

You make a disapproving noise at the back of your throat. Just like the devil she is, Eren has been waiting for you outside the gym, balancing her stick in the palm of her hand. She’s changed her field gear for a simple vermillion hoodie and black shorts. You can’t get the image of her wearing that tight, white skirt out of your head, so you do what any respectable man should do and ignore her.

Eren doesn’t like that one bit.

See, when she goes at something, she goes swinging—literally. Metal slams into your gut hard enough to crush your lungs into your spine. The only reason you don’t crumble to your knees is because you’re used to shit like this on the field.

Eren laughs. “What’s the matter, big guy? Cat got your tongue?”

“I don’t have time—” You suck in a deep breath; the air won’t fit down your throat. “—for your bullshit.”

“You mad? Why are you still mad?” Eren’s smile slices white. “You got a problem I brought you down? Shame, you look good on your knees.”

If you’re the keg full of powder in a room, Eren is always the one trying to throw a burning match inside. Tough shit she doesn’t know you’re secretly a pyromaniac.

You move too fast for her to react, or maybe she just wasn’t expecting you to fight back. When her back hits the hard wall with a satisfying thud, you consider smacking her head against it for good measure. She stares up at you with wide eyes—exactly the sight you’ve imagined moments before—and when she swallows, you feel her throat flex under the palm of your hand. There it is. Your hand around her throat. She has to crane her had back; you dip yours, head cocked to the side slightly.

“What a fucking brat you are.” Your voice is so quiet. Hoarse. You don’t recognise it. You have a hard time focusing right now because one thing becomes painfully clear: You’d do anything to fuck Eren and make her scream and cry. “Is that what get you off at night? Bullying other people? Really? What are we, fucking twelve?”

Eren snarls at you, showing her teeth like a captured animal. You tighten your hold around her throat, dig your thumb into her pulse point that’s jackhammering like a rabbit’s heart caught in a snare. Pressing her harder against the wall, bringing your bodies flush against each other, you slide your leg between hers, and the sound she makes is exquisitely delicious.

“You’re just so easy to tease,” she replies, just as quietly. She turns her face towards you, like a flower following the sun’s path. “Maybe I’m weak for big guys that cry.”

“If I’m done with you, Eren, I won’t be the one crying.”

She shudders against you and tries to bring your bodies harder together, pressing her tits against your chest. You dig your fingers into her jaw until you can see your nails leaving red half-moons on her skin. Hovering your mouth above hers, you watch every twitch and change on her face, and every time she tries to close the gab between you by slanting her mouth over yours, you push her head back. The frustrated growl at the back of her throat is almost adorable.

“Or do you want for someone to put you in your place?” you wonder aloud, jerking your leg only once, only a little. Eren melts against you, moving her hips against the strong muscle of your thigh.

Your mouth goes dry. Eren uses that moment to slap her hands around your cheeks and pull you down, slamming her lips into yours. Her mouth is hot, almost feverish. She strokes her tongue against yours, and you groan into her mouth—the vibration of the sound sending lightning flicks of pleasure down your spine. The kiss goes rough, deeper, and claiming.

You’re not done with her yet.

Sneaking the hand that’s been holding her jaw to the back of her nape, you curl your fingers into her thick hair—and yank it back. Eren gasps, bearing her throat to you. You reward her by running your tongue over her bottom lip, grazing the soft flesh with your teeth.

“You had to—” she starts, and swallows when you put your mouth to the curve of her jaw, biting hard. “Fuck—Ever since you split that fucking watermelon open with your fucking thighs, you fucking gorilla.”

You laugh against the hot skin of her throat. “Is that it? You got a crush on me, and that’s how you’ve been trying to get into my pants?”

“If anything, I’m creative.”

You consider that with a hum against the curve of her shoulder. When you raise your face again, Eren is already waiting for you, her mouth hungry and pliant under yours. You run your hands through her hair, over and over again while tasting her, feeling her hips stutter against your thigh. When you’re holding her hair in a ponytail, she separates for a moment to look up at you—eyes blown black with desire, but lucid enough to question what you’re doing.

You’ll change that.

“I said I’d make you cry,” you say against her cheek, feather-light and soft, deceptively so. “I think it’s time to see how pretty you look on your knees.”

Eren tenses up at that, you can feel it against your body. Tenses up in anticipation, you realise, when her hands begin to work on your belt buckle, her eyes wide, wanton. Excited. Your cock jumps inside the confines of your pants, half-hard.

“You’ll do that for me, won’t you?” you whisper, kissing her cheek, her nose, her neck. Why have you never noticed before how ridiculously good she smells. “You’ll be good and nice for me, right?”

“That depends.” Her answer is breathless, barely audible. She’s still fighting in the end, as though she isn’t completely melting in your arms already. So cute.

You tighten your hold on her hair, pushing her down slowly.

“You’ll find you won’t have much choice,” you say, smiling. “I’ll make you behave this time.”

And Eren, still looking up at you while working on your zipper, answers with a smile herself, accepting the challenge.

A/N: I had too much fun writing this lmao

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thegracelessfaceless · 3 years ago

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*slithers in*

Can I request some Helen headcanons? Just like general dating him and maybe some nsfw if possible.

@mutat-ad-astra , ₐᄂᵣᵢg𝓱𝚝 yₒᵤ'ᵥₑ 𝚍ₒ𝚗ₑ ᵢ𝚝 𝚗ₒw. ᵢ'ᵥₑ 𝚋ₑ𝚌ₒᗰₑ ₐ 𝘴ᵢᗰ𝐩 fₒᵣ Hₑᄂₑ𝚗 . W𝓱ₐ𝚝 𝚍ₒ yₒᵤ 𝓱ₐᵥₑ 𝚝ₒ 𝘴ₐy fₒᵣ yₒᵤᵣ𝘴ₑᄂf??

(づ￣ ³￣)づ

ꇙꄲ ꇙ꒐ꋊꉔ�� ꓄ꁝ꒐ꇙ ꉣꄲꇙ꓄ ꉔꋬꂵꏂ ꄲ꒤꓄ ꇙꄲ ꒒ꄲꋊꍌ, ꒐'ꂵ ꍌꄲ꒐ꋊꍌ ꓄ꄲ ꅐꋪ꒐꓄ꏂ ꋬꋊ꒯ ꉣꄲꇙ꓄ ꁝꏂ꒒ꏂꋊ'ꇙ ꋊꇙꊰꅐ ꒐ꋊ ꒐꓄ꇙ ꄲꅐꋊ, ꍌ꒒ꄲꋪ꒐ꄲ꒤ꇙ ꉣꄲꇙ꓄ ❤

ᕼᗴᒪᗴᑎ ᗝ丅Ꭵᔕ/ᗷᒪᗝᗝᗪƳ ᑭᗩᎥᑎ丅ᗴᖇ ᖇᗴᒪᗩ丅ᎥᗝᑎᔕᕼᎥᑭ ᕼᗴᗩᗪᑕᗩᑎᗝᑎᔕ

(With a fem!SO)

♡Let's just get canon out of the way real quick.

♡Helen is very calm and quiet

♡He isn't very expressive and doesn't speak much, but when he does, he's always the picture of the perfect gentleman.

♡If something doesn't concern him, Helen is pretty apathetic towards it. However, if it's something he cares about, Helen will be very passionate.

♡His parents treated him as a pet or toy, and this caused Helen to have repression issues.

♡He won't show emotion towards a person unless they show emotion first, then he will reciprocate. This is essential to remember as Helen's significant other; you'll have to make the first move every time.

♡Helen's a Libra. His birthday is October 1st

♡Helen's parents were so excited when they found out they were going to be parents. That night, Helen's mother dreamed that she had a beautiful baby girl with delicate features, the deepest blue eyes that she had ever seen, and coal black hair so fine that it looked like dark lace against the baby girl's alabaster skin. She woke up certain that she was pregnant with a baby girl that looked just like in her dream. Mrs. Otis went into labor and delivered a baby that indeed looked just like in her dream, but it was a boy. So they decided to continue on and name him Helen, and raise him as they would a little girl.

♡This treatment continued until he started school at six. Then his parents decided to dress him as and refer to him as a boy in order to not draw attention.

♡Helen still suffers from body dysphoria because of this. For a long time, Helen couldn't reconcile whether he was male or female in his mind, so he existed in a chaotic state of one, the other, both and neither all at the same time. Now- after years of therapy, and a great deal of time building his trust with Reader, Helen identifies as agender preferring he/they/it pronouns and a refined but masculine aesthetic.

♡Reader is the only person allowed to call him Helen. And even she doesn't do it often, only when she's serious. He prefers Reader to call him darling, love, honey, dear, and, if he's feeling frisky, Sir 😍. All others may refer to him by his surname, Otis.

♡Helen can be quite manipulative and his intelligence is obvious

♡While in "working" mode, Helen is very cautious of the scene he his creating, and presents every body as if it were a canvas to bear his work.

♡His fascination with blood stems from his childhood. He had always had trouble making friends, only managing one at a time and spaced distantly apart. His only childhood friend had been murdered by bullies in the park, rocks thrown at him for being friends with that "weird sissyboy kid" until one struck his temple, killing him instantly. The bullies had hurriedly buried his friend in the deep snow from the night before. Helen knew this, he had told you, because he had watched it all from his perch in a tree. After the bullies had fled, Helen had uncovered his friend and stared at his body lying in red stained snow, and the bullies later blamed Helen with his friends death. Ultimately, he had been cleared, as there had been a witness in the park.

♡The false accusations of murder didn't stop there, much to your displeasure.

♡In high school, a classmate of Helen's, one who happened to be Helen's only friend, fell from the building and died. A witness said that Helen had killed him, but no concrete evidence was found.

♡Not to say that Helen is an angel. You know he's far from that, too.

♡Later, the same year, as a freshman at university, Helen killed 17 people from his dorm building, and wounded 5 on Devil's Night (October 30th).

♡Helen was found insane by the courts as a minor and received 6 years of inpatient treatment before being released back into society.

♡He started "his work" again three years later, and then met you two years after that.

♡Helen smokes cigarettes (though not as much as Tim) and unwinds after "work" with music and a rum and Coke or whisky on the rocks.

♡Helen enjoys lofi hiphop; classical music; instrumental and instrumental covers of songs; music from the early 1960's like: Frankie Valli, The Big Bopper, the Animals, and the Zombies; and indie rock like The Flaming Lips, Harvey Danger, Dinosaur Jr, and The Smashing Pumpkins.

♡He loves discovering new music with you, listening to playlists you make him for hours. But you're gonna listen to some of his music, too and he makes playlists for you to play according to mood.

♡Helen's love languages are: quality time, acts of service, and words of affirmation. But the love languages he craves are: all of them except receiving gifts! Getting a gift is uncomfortable for Helen, especially if he has no gift to give back. He wants you to feel just as appreciated as you feel, if not more.

♡Helen thought that he was completely asexual before he met you. No one he had met had ever... Moved him in that way. And he was fine with that. Why should he mourn something he'd never even wanted?

♡And then he met you at an antique art showcase of pieces by and inspired by René Magritte. (Example here: ◎▼◎) After you spent hours together at the show, exchanging witty banter, and eventually, phone numbers, Helen found himself thinking about you that night, alone in bed. And then his mind wondered something it had never thought about anyone else. He wondered what you looked like naked. What your skin would feel like. How would you taste?

♡He frowned to himself, confused by the foreign thought for a moment before he realized that he felt sexual desire for you.

♡It still took him a long while of dating you before he felt comfortable enough to even kiss you in a sexual way. The two of you were practically engaged when he gave you his virginity.

♡Bonus wholesome content headcanon/drabble: Once you convinced Helen to bleach his naturally blue black hair. Not wanting to disappoint you, and telling himself that it was just hair, he consented and you happily set to work. An hour later, he emerged from the shower with a shock of platinum white hair 😱. He had to support himself with a hand on the back of the couch because his knees started shaking when he caught a glance of himself in the mirror over the fireplace. A long, thin fingered hand with a fine tremor lifted to cover his mouth. You knew without him telling you that he absolutely, 100%, no doubt, undisputedly hated it. His already porcelain skin had paled even more, now trembling chalk instead of bone China. His midnight blue eyes held a sort of flinching terror in them as they tried to look anywhere but the vicinity of the mantle mirror. You approached him gently and pulled the towel thrown around his shoulders loose and used his shoulder to balance you as you went up on tiptoe to finish drying his now shockingly white hair.

♡You leave Helen waiting shirtless in the living room to deal with putting his shoes and socks on and you pull on a light jacket to guard against the chill that manages to never be around when we need it during the daytime hours as you enter yours and Helen's shared bedroom. You find Helen a clean black tee shirt and pick up one of your beanies from the coatrack behind the bedroom door. This one was black with a tree frog leaping over the words Frog Leap Studios done in a typewriter font in white thread, a circle of bright blue making the frogs eye stand out.

♡You take the shirt and beanie to Helen and he pulls the shirt on. You feel a little sad that he's covering up, but there would be time to enjoy his body later. Helen sits on the couch so you can slip the beanie over his baby fine hair easier than going up on tiptoe to match his 6'2" lean frame. The bleach may have stolen its darkness, but it couldn't steal its softness. Helen's hair was probably the softest thing you'd ever touched.

♡Hair sufficiently covered, you and Helen get into your car and head to the only place open at the hour of 3:24 in the morning. Walmart. Your sleep schedule had never been normal and Helen didn't help you normalize it at all. In fact, if anything it had gotten worse, the two of you wrapped up in your own hyperfixations, leaned up against each other back to back, or one of you holding the other as one of you writes while the other draws.

♡You feel Helen's hand find your thigh and squeeze it, letting you know he's not upset with you. You reached down and covered his hand with yours, returning the squeeze and you finish out the short ride more relaxed now that you know Helen isn't mad at you. Helen follows you to the beauty section once you're inside the store. He patiently watches as you pick out boxes from 4 different companies.

♡An amused Helen watches you as you quibble with the four boxes. You shuffle through them, running through them over and over like a person considering their hand while playing cards.

♡You end up with him bending down slightly again so you can compare the dyes to his eyebrows. He thinks it's the sweetest thing that you're going through such a clear effort to fix his hair. Obviously you feel responsible for the mistake and he hates that.

♡Gently taking the boxes from your hands, he picks a random red and black one from the four you were debating between and puts the rest back on the shelf.

♡Then Helen pulls you into his arms and holds you tight and close, burying a kiss on top of your head. You smile into his chest, breathing in the scent of paint, paint thinner, lavender shampoo, and jasmine soap. On anyone else, the paint thinner smell would have made you sick. But on Helen, it just smelled like home. You two stay in your embrace, Helen swaying slightly to a beat only he could hear. A stolen moment, a stolen dance, to help ground yourselves.

♡Helen broke the hug after a few moments more, but kept hold of your hand. You walk to the checkout line and pay almost $10 for the dye. The price gave you a mild case of sticker shock, but you shook it off and smiled at the older cashier, who was beaming as her eyes moved between you and Helen. The two of you seemed to get that reaction from older people. That look of pure hope that more people got to experience the love that shone between you. You both thank the cashier repeatedly as Helen payed her the money needed.

"You two have a good night" she smiled at us, "the world needs more couples that look at each other the way you do. You look, at each other like you're reach others entire worlds."

"She is" Helen says softly, pulling me into a hug and a quick kiss, "She's my whole universe."

♡You're pretty certain that the woman's smile could not get bigger. But you didn't really want to find out, since you were starting to notice that her teeth were huge and you were starting to get squicked out by it. Helen must have picked up on your discomfort because he led you away in the protective half circle of his arm.

♡"My knight in shining armor" you croon at him as you walk back to the car, "Thank you for saving me. I am forever in your debt. However could I repay you, Sir?"

♡Helen took in a sharp breath and chuckled as he slowly let it out, "I can think of a few things."

♡"You'll have to show me when you have the time" I teased as Helen opened your car door for me. He'd taught you that chivalry was not dead, and you'd realized that it would be easier to let Helen be a gentleman than it would be to convince him that you could open your own doors.

♡You drove home and locked the doors behind you. You headed straight for the bathroom and Helen borrowed a stool from the island bar to sit on so you could reach all of his head.

♡Twenty minutes later, you threw dye covered vinyl gloves in the trash and settled an old towel around Helen's shoulders and neck to keep the dye from dripping on him. You'd clipped a pillowcase over his hair and you had just finished hitting the dye with heat to assure his hair took the dye well, absorbed it.

♡Helen smiled contentedly up at you from his spot on the stool.

♡You tilted his chin up to kiss him. He kissed you back and then sent soft kisses across your cheek and jawbone, and then kissed and nipped down your neck. Helen focused his kisses back on your lips, kissing you like the kisses would magically cure everything, would keep you alive.

♡The timer you'd set so Helen would know when to wash the dye out of his hair went off, and Helen stood

♡Having already taken off his shirt, Helen unfastened his jeans and let them slide down his legs, stepping out of them as they pooled around his feet, leaving him completely nude, comfortable.

♡instead of getting in the shower, Helen pulled you closer to the shower and used his nimble hands to liberate you of your clothes. Before you could protest, or even decide if ypu wanted to get in, Helen had pulled you under the spray of the shower and he stood in it now, extra dye streaming in lines

♡You turned Helen's back to you and massaged his scalp as the water rinsed the excess dye down the drain. When the water ran clear, you massaged some of the color protect conditioner that came with the dye and Helen switched places with you, his hands never leaving your hips so he could catch you if you slipped.

♡Helen washes your back for you and then your hair, lathering up a clean washcloth with jasmine soap and making sure not to miss a spot. Then he rubbed some lavender scented shampoo into my hair. Then he rinsed it and repeated the process before leaving some conditioner to sit in my hair.

♡Finally Helen worked some conditioner into your hair that matched the shampoo. You help Helen rinse everything from his hair and you condition his hair with the rest of the conditioner that came with the dye.

♡Showers with Helen always end up with him bathing you, his hands and keen eye not missing a single millimeter of your skin. Showers rarely turned sexual between the two of you, instead the two of you focused on the intimacy of showering together.

♡After all the soap and hair products are rinsed from both of you, Helen turned off the water and wrapped you in warm towels, quickly drying himself off and slinging a towel around his hips.

♡Helen obviously felt better once his hair was back to its natural inky darkness.

♡You could tell from the mischievous grin he wore as he escorted you to the bedroom.

AN: so I wrote on this well into the night... Fell asleep in the process a few times 😅. If you see continuity issues with the POV, let me know so I can fix it. I kept wanting to write in first person 😂

#creepypasta #helen otis #bloody painter #bloody painter headcanons #helenotisheadcanons #helen otis x reader #bloody painter x reader #tw mental/emotional abuse #tw mention of disregarding someone's gender

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itsclydebitches · 3 years ago

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TBH I think the whole "You didn't have an issue with this in 'insert x show here' but you have an issue with it in RWBY? What are you, sexist?" thing can easily be defused with a simple, "How did RWBY present this plot-point compared to the show I like?"

Sure, technically Cinder Fall and Darth Maul are the 'same' character, but how are the two presented in their respective shows? Cinder eats up screentime and none of it goes anywhere and gets frustrating. Maul is a relatively minor villain that had one season's worth of attention in CW and then was the villain of a few episodes throughout Rebels before getting killed off.

The only reason someone would be confused as to why people like Maul but hate Cinder is if they just read the two's respective wiki pages.

Really the whole "Your issues with RWBY are just subconscious misogyny" is just some people wanting to slap labels onto others so they can feel validated on not agreeing with their opinions.

Generally speaking, I'm wary of any take that boils down to a single sentence, "You're just [insert accusation here]." Not because such accusations are always 100% without merit—with a canon dealing with as many sensitive subjects as RWBY, combined with a fandom as large and diverse as it has become, you're bound to come across some people whose "criticism" stems primarily from bigotry—but because such dismissive summaries never tackle the problem a fan has pointed out. If one fan goes, "Ruby's plan was foolish because [reasons]" and the response to that is "You just can't handle a woman leader," then that response has failed to disprove the argument presented. The thing about "criticism" based in bigotry is that there isn't actually a sound argument attached because, you know, the only "argument" here is "I don't like people who aren't me getting screen time." So you can spot that really easily. The person who is actually misogynistic is going to be spouting a lot of rants about how awful things are... but very little evidence as to why it's awful, leaving only the fact that our characters are women as the (stupid) answer.

And yes, there is something to be said for whether, culturally, we're harder on women characters than we are men. Are we subconsciously more critical of what women do in media simply because we have such high expectations for that representation and, conversely, have become so used to such a variety of rep for men—including endlessly subpar/outright bad stories—that we're more inclined to shrug those mistakes off? That's absolutely worth discussing, yet at the same time, acknowledging that doesn't mean those criticisms no longer exist. That's where I've been with the Blake/Yang writing for a while now. I think fans are right to point out that we may be holding them to a higher standard than we demand of straight couples, but that doesn't mean the criticisms other fans have of how the ship has been written so far are without merit. Those writing mistakes still exist even if we do agree that they would have been overlooked in a straight couple—the point is they shouldn't exist in either. Both are still bad writing, no matter whether we're more receptive to one over the other. Basically, you can be critical of a queer ship without being homophobic. Indeed, in an age where we're getting more queer rep than ever before, it's usually the queer fans who are the most critical. Because we're the ones emotionally invested in it. The true homophobes of the fandom either dropped RWBY when the coding picked up, or spend their time ranting senselessly about how the ship is horrible simply because it exists, not because of how it's been depicted. Same for these supposed misogynists. As a woman, I want to see Ruby and the others written as complex human beings, which includes having them face up to the mistakes they've made. The frustration doesn't stem from me hating women protagonists, but rather the fact that they're written with so little depth lately and continually fall prey to frustrating writing decisions.

And then yeah, you take all those feelings, frustrations, expectations, and ask yourself, "Have I seen other shows that manage this better?" Considering that RWBY is a heavily anime-inspired show where all the characters are based off of known fairy tales and figures... the answer is usually a resounding, "Yes." As you say, I keep coming across accusations along the lines of, "People were fine with [insert choice here] when [other show] did it," as if that's some sort of "Gotcha!" moment proving a fan was bigoted all along, when in fact the answer is right there: Yes, we were okay with it then because that show did it better. That show had the setup, development, internal consistency, and follow through that RWBY failed to produce, which is precisely what we were criticizing in the first place.

What I also think is worth emphasizing here is how many problems RWBY has developed over the last couple of years (combining with the problems it had at the start). Because, frankly, audiences are more forgiving of certain pitfalls when the rest of the show is succeeding. I think giving a Star Wars example exemplifies that rather well. No one is going to claim that Star Wars is without its problems (omg does it have problems lol), but there's enough good there in most individual stories to (usually) keep the fans engaged. That doesn't mean that they're not going to point out those criticisms when given the chance, just that disappointment isn't the primary feeling we come away with. Obviously in a franchise this size there are always exceptions (like the latest trilogy...), but for most it's a matter my recent response to The Bad Batch, "I have one major criticism surrounding a character's arc and its impact on the rest of the cast, and we definitely need to unpack the whitewashing... but on the whole yes, it was a very enjoyable, well written show that I would recommend to others." However, for many fans now, we can't say the same of RWBY. Yang getting KO'ed by Neo in a single hit leads into only Blake reacting to her "death" which reminds viewers of the lack of sisterly development between Yang and Ruby which segues into a subpar fight which messes with Cinder's already messy characterization which leads to Ruby randomly not using her silver eye to save herself which leaves Jaune to mercy kill Penny who already died once which gives Winter the powers when she could have just gotten it from the start which results in a favorite character dying after his badly written downfall and all of it ends with Jaune following our four woman team onto the magical island... and that's just two episodes. The mistakes snowball. RWBY's writing is broken in numerous ways and that's what fans keep pointing to. Any one of these examples isn't an unforgivable sin on its own, but the combination of all of them, continuously, representing years worth of ongoing issues results in that primary feeling of, "That was disappointing."

Looking at some of the more recent posts around here, fans aren't upset that Ruby is no longer interested in weaponry because that character trait is Oh So Important and its lack ruins the whole show, they're upset because Ruby, across the series, lacks character, so the removal of one trait is more of a problem than it would be in a better written character. What are her motivations? Why doesn't she seek answers to these important questions? Why is her special ability so inconsistent? Where's her development recently? What makes Ruby Ruby outside of wielding a scythe and wanting to help everyone, a very generic character trait for a young, innocent protagonist? We used to be able to say that part of her character was that obsession and we used to hope that this would lead to more interesting developments: Will Ruby fix/update their weapons? Is her scythe dependency the reason why others need to point out how her semblance can develop? What happens if she is weaponless? Surely that will lead to more than just a headbutt... but now we've lost hope that this trait will go anywhere, considering it has all but disappeared. Complaints like these are short-hand criticism for "Ruby's character as a whole needs an overhaul," which in turn is a larger criticism of the entire cast's iffy characterization (Who is Oscar outside Ozpin? Why was Weiss' arc with her father turned into a joke and concluded without her? etc.) and that investment speaks to wanting her to be better. We want Ruby to be a better character than she currently is, like all those other shows we've seen where the women shine. Reducing that to misogyny isn't just inaccurate, but the exact opposite of what most fans are going for in their criticisms.

#rwby #rwde #mymetas

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yoontopia · 4 years ago

Text

𝗳𝗼𝗿𝘁𝘂𝗶𝘁𝘆 | 𝗷𝗷𝗸

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: detective au; fluff, a smidgen of angst, childhood friends to lovers

rating: 18+ (mentions of assault, domestic abuse and suicide; minor character death, serial killers are mentioned, minor mention of alcohol and weapons, most likely an inaccurate portrayal of policework)

word count: 7.7k

summary: when a case forces you to re-visit your hometown, you’re also forced to re-visit your past and one particular jeon jungkook, your childhood friend, and the man you’d fallen in love with -- while he’d been been engaged to someone else.

author’s note: whew this is me coming back to writing for the first time in a WHILE. happy (belated) birthday jungkook! I’m sorry for being 8 days late T_T

The first thing you do when you get into work is make coffee. The lieutenant has recently invested in a rather pricey looking coffee machine after giving the entire team a loud and exasperated lecture about “leaving the precinct to take too many coffee breaks”. You can’t say that you complain about this new arrangement.

The second thing you do when you get into work is check the files on your desk. It is when you’re rifling through these, a mug of steaming black liquid next to you, that your partner slaps another folder on your desk.

“What is this?” you ask, looking up at his tired demeanour. Min Yoongi is an excellent detective, but talent and success come at a price. You don’t think the man has ever gotten a good night’s rest.

“A 16-year old girl found murdered by the piers in Busan,” Yoongi says, pulling the chair from the empty desk next to you and subsequently collapsing in it. “The fishermen found her early this morning.”

“Busan?” you ask, the name of your hometown heavy on your tongue. “What business does that have with the Seoul Major Crimes Unit?”

“It becomes our business when you see how she was killed.” Yoongi states, leaning forward and flipping open the file for you. You look down at the medical examiner’s report, light finally shedding on your situation.

“Legs and hands tied with plastic cable ties, throat slashed, face carved into a permanent mangled grin – its Him. The age and description of the girl match with his previous victims and Busan PD asked us to come down since we’re handling The Joker’s case.”

“Don’t call him that,” you snap. “What did I tell you about enabling him?” Yoongi shrugs, leaning back in his chair.

You stare back down at the photos of the crime scene, your brain trying to piece together the information. This particular serial killer – nicknamed The Joker by the general public for the way he dismembered his victims’ faces – had been at large for a couple years now and had murdered five young girls. Well, you muse, the count is up to six now.

“He’s never struck outside Seoul before,” you murmur. In your periphery, Yoongi nods, taking a sip out of his own coffee. “This is so out of his way. Are we sure its not a copycat?”

“I considered that,” he says, twiddling his thumbs. “The lead detectives in charge of this case want us to check it out and see if we can figure out of it’s the real deal. If it is The Joker, the case is ours anyway.”

“I know some cops in Busan,” you say, closing the file. You had grown up there and worked there before transferring. “Who’s in charge?” Yoongi stares at you before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a slip of paper with names scribbled on it.

“Let’s see—the man who called this morning – a Kim Taehyung – do you know him?” You blink.

“Yeah, we-we went to college together,” you say, your voice suddenly hushed.

“Aw that’s cute, a little reunion,” Yoongi grins but then studies your expression. “Is it not a happy occasion?”

“No no,” you laugh weakly. “Taehyung is fine – great actually! He’s good at what he does too. I’m grateful he’s in charge of this one.”

“Great, we leave tomorrow first thing,” Yoongi says, electing to ignore your high voice and nervousness. “I got us KTX tickets for the first train out.”

You nod, swallowing. Kim Taehyung isn’t the problem, it’s who he’s partners with that has your stomach in knots.

Your train pulls into Busan at a very early hour that even coffee can’t fix. You heave your duffel bag over your shoulder and wait for Yoongi to grab his before stepping off onto the platform. Yawning, you look around.

The dawn has left behind a slight fog around the city and the morning October air has a slight chill in it. You haven’t been back in Busan since the day you left, some two years ago. Your parents had moved to Seoul recently, taking with them the only reason you’d ever have to visit this seaside city.

Yoongi hops off the train next to you and looks around. He’s a Daegu native, but knows this city like the back of his hand.

“I booked us a hotel near the crime scene,” is the first thing he says.

“That’s not morbid at all,” you chuckle, and he rolls his eyes. “But first I’m guessing we head straight to the precinct?” Yoongi nods and the two of you opt to share a cab instead of taking the public transport.

Before you know it, you’re getting off at the police department. Two officers at the entrance have been alerted of your arrival and show you the way. Yoongi shoots you a surprised look, but you grin back. Busan has always been known for its friendly and amicable citizens.

When you enter what is obviously the homicide department, Taehyung is the first person you see. He shouts your name from across the room, turning several heads, and bounces towards you like a golden retriever reunited with its long-lost owner.

“That is Kim Taehyung?” Yoongi asks and you’re not sure if he’s impressed or disappointed.

“Its so good to see you!” he says, a boxy grin painting his face. You take him in. Taehyung hasn’t changed much since college, but the dyed blonde hair he used to sport when he was younger has now been swapped for his natural black curls, which bounce every time he walks. “And you must be Detective Min, we spoke on the phone”

“Ah—yes,” Yoongi utters, thoroughly thrown off. You hide a smile.

“Come in, come in! Ah you can leave your bags by my desk for now.” The two of you do as you’re told, and Taehyung then leads you to a small conference room which holds a projector screen, a small round table, and a few chairs.

“I assume you’ve read the case file?” he asks and when you nod, he continues. “We haven’t had anything quite like this before – at least not during my career. I realize the two of you are the leads on The Joker right now, so any help you’re willing to provide is appreciated really.”

“Any new developments?” you ask, pulling out the file from your backpack. Taehyung hums before sitting down across from you.

“The toxicology report came back right as you arrived, I got a text from my partner,” Taehyung says, and you try to keep a straight face. “He’s over there right now he should be here soon, by the way,” You’re thankful that he doesn’t dwell on the topic for too long, most likely out of respect for you. “They found morphine in her system, so we’re inclined to believe that she was drugged before being tied up and killed. Your raise your eyebrows at this piece of information.

“The Joker doesn’t drug his victims.” You state. “They’re all very much awake when he ties them up and slashes their throats. The carved smile is always scratched in post-mortem.”

“Well there are inconsistencies then,” Taehyung says, running a hand through his hair. “All the wounds here were caused after he actually killed her – and that includes… whatever he did to her face.”

“So, we’re looking at a copycat.” You state.

“Or he’s changed his MO.” Yoongi adds.

“He hasn’t changed it for his first five victims what was special about this one that he had to drug her to knock her out first? No, this sounds like someone plotting murder and covering it up. Either way let’s explore all avenues.” You say.

“I agree,” comes a voice from behind you and you almost jump out of your seat. You turn to see the very person you’d been dreading running into since stepping foot on the platform this morning. Jeon Jungkook walks in, two cups in his hands, setting one down in front of Taehyung. He leans over to shake hands with Yoongi, giving you a mere side-glance. He sits down across from the two of you and takes a sip of his drink. Distractedly, you wonder if its coffee – as far as you know he was never a big fan.

The again, you muse, you’re not sure you really know him anymore.

There’s an awkward sort of silence and Yoongi’s body language tells you he’s noticed something’s off. Taehyung clears his throat.

“I’m assuming the two of you will want to check the crime scene out?”

“And the body.” You add. Taehyung nods and stands up.

“Do you want to split up or do both together?” You look at Yoongi.

“Together,” the two of you say at the same time. Yoongi’s smiling. You smile back.

Getting into the back of Taehyung’s sleek black SUV, you watch Yoongi jump in from the other side, dark hair slightly tousled from trying to get some sleep on the train. He’d been your partner for the entirety of your career with the Seoul PD. The two of you had started as rookie cops and had spent the first few months catching small-time criminals. Yoongi was easy to work with, and you’d found a fast friend in him, being alone in a big, unfamiliar city. You closed cases like no one else and before you knew it, the two of you were promoted to Major Crimes as detectives. The Joker was one of your first cases and it was a real thorn in your side that you hadn’t managed to catch the bastard yet.

Jungkook gets in the passenger seat next to Taehyung. He hasn’t so much as addressed you yet, except for agreeing with your previous statement. You had expected as much. He’s still sipping on his drink. Taehyung is talking to one of the officers by the main gate and you take this time to really take in Jungkook’s appearance.

He hasn’t changed – gotten broader maybe. His hair is slightly longer, falling into his eyes. His ears are still pierced in multiple places, although right now he’s only wearing simple rings in both ears. He’s wearing a dark sweatshirt, which you recognize is from the Busan Police Academy as you own the same one. His right hand is littered with tattoos you can’t make out, and they disappear into his arm. That is new and you wonder when he got them done. Unable to help yourself, your eyes travel to his left hand, his ring finger. You’re surprised to find it empty. The last time you saw him, there was definitely a ring there. It was the last time you were in Busan. You haven’t returned since.

“Did Namjoon text you?” Yoongi’s voice breaks you out of your reverie. You look at your partner distractedly. “He said he was going to.”

“Oh, I haven’t checked.” You mutter, before pulling out your phone from the back pocket of your jeans. There is an unread message, surely enough from your co-worker.

“Yeah he says Holly’s fine,” You tell Yoongi, scrolling through the message. “He was a little shy last night but seems to have taken a liking to Joon.” Yoongi heaves a sigh of relief. Yoongi was also your roommate back home, and his dog meant more to him more than anything else. You secretly were also extremely fond of the little brown poodle. “He says he’ll send pictures later.” Yoongi scoffs at that.

“He better, I do not trust that man with our dog.” Yoongi says and you smile at his wording. Holly was definitely Yoongi’s dog, you had just moved into his apartment when he was in need of a roommate to help cover the rent. It was so easy to be platonically domestic with Min Yoongi.

“Why didn’t you just leave him with your brother?” you ask, putting your phone away, looking out through the window to see if Taehyung is done.

“Geumjae’s in Daegu for my Mom’s birthday.” you turn to Yoongi in surprise.

“It’s your Mom’s birthday and you’re here?” you ask in surprise. Yoongi shrugs. “Maybe we should stop in Daegu on the way back.”

“I considered it,” he says. “If we have time.”

“I’d like to meet her.” You say warmly.

Jungkook clears his throat and you look at him, having forgotten he’s in the car too. He’s about to say something when Taehyung opens the door and gets in on the driver’s side.

“Sorry,” he says. “We have another ongoing case.”

“It’s not a problem,” Yoongi says. “You could’ve just left us to go do all this by ourselves.”

“No this case takes precedent for us too,” Taehyung says, starting up the car. “Plus, we’re here to help you if you ever need anything.”

The rest of the drive is silent, but its an almost-comfortable type of silence. You look out the window, taking in the familiar streets from your younger years. Nothing really has changed but then again, two years isn’t a long time at all. Or maybe it is. You’re not sure anymore.

“You say she was found near Haeundae?”

“Near the Haeundae market, yes.” Jungkook answers, surprising you. “She hadn’t been in the water and no water was found in her lungs, so she wasn’t drowned. No blood or signs of struggle in the surrounding area meaning she was killed elsewhere and brought to the market. We aren’t sure why this particular location was chosen--”

“The killer wanted her to be found,” you say, your voice soft, cutting him off. “The markets open before anything else. Everyone who lives here knows that.” Jungkook turns to look at you, really look at you, for the first time since he’d walked into the conference room.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “I think so too.”

“ID?” Yoongi asks, and either he’s pretending not to feel the tension in the car, or he doesn’t notice it. Knowing Yoongi, it’s probably the former.

“16-year-old Park Sohee,” Jungkook says, turning back to look at the little black notebook he has open. “Attended high school in Haeundae, grew up in the area too.”

“Have you spoken to the parents?” You ask.

“Yesterday,” he replies. “She was on the swim and dive team at school. Had excellent grades and many friends. A popular kid. Parents say she had no enemies, and no boyfriend, and wasn’t involved in anything ‘bad’.”

“Yeah well a parent is always going to say that,” you muse. “Have you spoken with her school? Friends? Swim coach?”

“Not yet. We waited for you.” You nod at that.

“I’d like to see the body after this if that’s okay. Yoongi can go talk to the school.” Yoongi nods beside you.

“Sure, one of us can go with you and the other can go with Detective Min.” Taehyung says, pulling up near the fish markets. You step out of the car, the smell of fish immediately overpowering you. You wrinkle your nose and look around. The market is exactly the same as you remember it. The familiar stalls selling everything from fresh produce to seafood to small trinkets and jewelry. It isn’t too busy right now considering it’s a weekday, which means you can look around easily.

“Nostalgic?” Jungkook asks stepping in beside you. You smile slightly.

“Only a little,” you answer him. “We used to come here a lot.”

“I still do to be honest,” he jokes. “The naengmyeon here is unrivalled.”

“Still?” you ask surprised, and he nods.

“Have some while you’re here,” he says, tossing his now empty cup in the nearby trashcan. “I know you like it.” He’s looking at you once again looking like he wants to say something. You understand, there are so many words left unsaid between you after all. You’re not sure you want to open that door though. Jungkook has always worn his heart on his sleeve.

“Over here,” Taehyung motions from some distance away and the two of you make your way to him. Yoongi is already standing there and he hands you a pair of gloves. Pulling them on, you lift the yellow police tape to make your way to the scene.

“They found her in front of this stall, on her back.”

“On display,” you say, kneeling near the chalk outline of the body. “Killer wanted us to see her face and neck.” You looked up at Jungkook and Taehyung, who were looking at you in confusion.

“It’s another inconsistency,” you say, standing up. “The Joker’s victims are all found face down. This guy totally didn’t do his research considering he was trying to be a copycat.”

“He wanted us to see the slashed throat,” Yoongi says. “He’s an amateur at this.” You nod.

“The cause of death was the morphine, I’m guessing. The wounds were all inflicted post-mortem”

“She had no other inflictions,” Jungkook says. “You can look at the tox screen when we go see the body and talk to the M.E. too.”

“Who found her?”

“A couple fishermen,” Taehyung reads off his notes. “Time of death is approximately 3-4 AM and both their alibis check out, they were out on the docks ready to head out.”

“I say we tell the press we’re convinced it’s the Joker,” you say, taking off your gloves and pocketing them.

“I agree,” pipes up Jungkook.

“Detective Min, if you can come with me to go talk to the family,” Taehyung says to Yoongi and then turns to you. “Go with Jungkook to see the body,” he says. You nod hesitantly, half-hoping it would’ve been the other way around. “We’ll drop you off on our way.”

Before you know it, you’re standing next to Jungkook outside the medical examiner’s office. Jungkook pushes the door open, letting you go through first.

“Hey Jin, I’m back,” he says and you hear a crash and a man appears from behind some shelves. He’s wearing a lab coat, dark hair disheveled. He looks at you.

“Oh, the detective from Seoul I’m guessing!” he says, his voice oddly melodious. “Kim Seokjin, MD.” You shake his hand, grinning and introducing yourself. You already like him.

“She wants to take a look at the body.”

“Of course, of course,” Seokjin says rushing around to the many shelves in the wall, popping one open and pulling out the body of Park Sohee.

You and Jungkook make your way towards it. You peer down at the young girl.

“The morphine is likely what killed her,” Seokjin says, watching you.

“She has bruises,” you say softly, staring at her abdomen. “Post-mortem?”

“No.” Seokjin replies. “She got those when she was alive. The coloring indicates they’re old.”

“Swimming and diving aren’t high contact sports,” you say. “Where did she get these bruises on her arms and chest?”

“You thinking domestic abuse?” Jungkook asks from behind you

“The parents said she didn’t have a partner. How did the parents seem?”

“Upset,” Jungkook starts, then stops. “You think the parents did this?”

“Just considering all options. Her team coach is also a possibility. I won’t know until we’ve checked all of them.” You look down at her again. “A pretty girl.” You say. “Can I have copies of the tox screen?”

“Sure,” Seokjin replies, walking over to his desk to print out a copy. “There isn’t much other than the morphine. An overwhelming amount.”

“Where would they get access to so much morphine?”

“No idea,” he says walking over and handing you the toxicology report, which you subsequently put in your bag. “But it was way over the lethal amount. The killer isn’t an expert on dosage. My guess? Someone who has no idea how killing works.”

You and Jungkook walk out of the building. The afternoon sun is peaking out, making you shed your jacket.

“You hungry?” he asks, and you realize you are. All you’ve had since arriving in Busan is coffee. “There’s a galbi place around here.”

He leads you around the corner into a small restaurant and you enter behind him.

“Jungkookie!” comes an excited voice and you see an elderly woman wearing a flowery apron making her way towards you. “It’s been a while!”

Jungkook grins at the woman and greets her politely and she ushers you over to a small table by the window facing the busy street. Handing you a menu, she smiles kindly at you.

“You’re a regular?” you ask.

“I used to be. It’s been a while honestly.”

You scan the menu, your mouth immediately watering.

“The dak-galbi here is unreal,” he tells you and you pretend to throw the menu away.

“Well how dare I eat anything else then!” Jungkook laughs, high and melodic. Its been a while since you’ve heard that laugh. “Let us split the dak-galbi. I also want rice.”

Jungkook gets up and walks over to the counter himself to give your order. You watch him, a small smile on your face. He collapses back in his seat, bringing over two glasses of water.

“So,” he says.

“What’s with the tattoos.” You blurt out, eyeing his hand. He stares down at it too.

“Wanted a change, I guess,” he says slowly. “Life was getting pretty dull around here.”

“So, you got inked,” you say grinning. He grins back.

“I’m happy this isn’t awkward,” he says after a while and you freeze. “I’m glad we can sit and talk like this still.”

“I know,” you whisper. “Me too.”

“About back then—” he starts, and you sigh. You want desperately to avoid this conversation but Jungkook, ever the straight arrow, has never liked underlying tension, and prefers everything laid out on the table in front of him. “I’m sorry for everything.”

“Don’t apologize for your feelings,” you tell him, but he shakes his head vigorously.

“No, I am sorry,” his tone is firm. “I ruined our friendship, made everything weird and drove you away. I know I’m the reason you’ve avoided this place until now and even now you’re only here because you have to be—”

“Jungkook,” you interrupt gently, and he halts mid-rant, his doe-like eyes wide. “Stop talking. I’m the one who’s sorry. I acted immature and it was me who ruined everything, not you. I didn’t come back because-because it hurt at first and then I didn’t come back because I thought you’d be happier without having to deal with me.”

“How could you think that?” He’s gripping the table, knuckles white. It makes the ink on his hand stand out even more. You see a sketch of a small rose, about an inch tall, right below his index finger, and bite your lip. “You were my best friend.”

“It’s different now,” you assure him, still staring at the rose. It’s staring back at you, a silent taunt. It brings up repressed memories you rather not face. “Things are different. I’m happy—in Seoul. Please don’t blame yourself for everything that happened. I wasn’t angry to see you, I was just worried you wouldn’t want to see me. I’m happy now and I’ve moved on from all that.”

“With Yoongi.” Jungkook says, and you’re not sure why he sounds so bitter.

“With Yoongi, yes,” you say. Yoongi’s your work partner and a steady shoulder when you need one. He’s your roommate and best friend. Seoul is lonely and even after two years of living there, he’s one of your only friends. But as soon as you say it, something in Jungkook’s expression shifts, like a door slamming shut. He sits back. “He’s the best partner anyone can ask for, and a damn good detective.”

Jungkook nods once, jaw clenched. Before you can ask him what’s wrong, your food arrives and you’re too hungry to think of much else.

After that, the two of you only make polite small talk. There’s no tension but you can’t help but feel like the wall that was crumbling has somehow repaired itself. Jungkook’s phone rings as he’s finishing his rice.

“Tae, hey,” he says, phone in his left hand as he eats with his right. You distractedly wonder why he doesn’t wear his ring anymore. “Okay sounds good. No, we can just walk to the station its only a couple blocks. Yeah man see you there.”

“They done talking to the school?”

“Yeah they’ll fill us in when we get there.”

“So, what’s the deal?” Yoongi asks, his lithe body curled up on the hotel armchair in your room. His room is next door, but the two of you had ordered room service for dinner. Empty bowls of jajangmyeon lie littered on the small side table next to him.

“The deal with what?”

“Detective Jeon,” You turn to Yoongi and fix him with a stare. Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “He doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

“Nonsense,” you reply.

“You two have a history? It got seriously weird at times today.”

“No history—it’s the same as Taehyung, we attended the police academy together. Taehyung was a couple years ahead of us though.”

“And?”

“And I’ve also attended middle school and high school with Jungkook. He was my neighbour growing up.”

“Ah childhood friends,” Yoongi hums. “But what went wrong?”

“What makes you think something went wrong?”

“Because you left behind a perfectly good life here when you moved to Seoul? Because you never talk about these people? Before today I didn’t even know of them. And also, because you were absolutely dreading coming here.” You sigh, hating Yoongi’s astute personality.

“Jungkook found out how I felt,” You say quietly. “About him.”

“Oh.”

“While he had a girlfriend.”

“…Oh.”

“Who he was engaged to.”

“What the fuck,” Yoongi’s tone makes you giggle, relieving the pain a little.

“Obviously, he never felt the same way, but then things got so weird. It was like we could never go back to what was. Jungkook skirted around me, his girlfriend hated my guts, I had to avoid our whole friend-group because all of his friends were my friends. It felt claustrophobic.”

“So, you left.”

“Not exactly,” you say. “I wasn’t actively looking to run away, but when the option to move was presented to me, I hesitated way less than I originally would have.”

“And are you still in love with him?” Yoongi asks, voice casual.

“I don’t know,” you reply, thinking of the small rose tattooed on Jungkook’s hand. It’s easier to deny. “It’s been two years and as far as I know he could be married by now.”

“I didn’t see a ring,” Yoongi answers, like the detective he is. “And that doesn’t answer my question.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you say. “He was head over heels for Jangmi.”

“What a delicate name,” Yoongi muses.

“She was the delicate kind,” you agree. “Kind, pretty, gentle – just like her name—like a rose.”

“Every rose has its thorns though,” Yoongi says wisely. “He cares about you, you know.”

“Who?”

“Detective Jeon. I can see it in his eyes.”

“You’re such a romantic at heart Min,” You tease. Yoongi only smiles softly in return. “It doesn’t matter. Jungkook’s life is here and mine is in Seoul. After we wrap this case up, I probably won’t see him again. I’m happy with my life right now.”

“Maybe if you tell yourself that enough times, it’ll one day become the truth.”

“Anyway, go over what you saw with the victim’s school again.” You sit on your bed cross-legged, your go-to posture when you’re trying to focus.

“Nothing really seemed out of the ordinary. Her swim coach is a well-respected man. Usually men in power take advantage of multiple people under them but none of the other girls in the team seemed out of sorts to me. Her teachers all spoke highly of her—she really did have excellent grades. It seemed she was friendly with everyone in her class and on her team. I’ve hit a block.”

“That’s frustrating.”

“The bruises you mentioned are bothering me,” Yoongi adds. “They don’t seem to have an explanation and the parents seemed surprised when we asked them about it.”

“Alibis for the parents?”

“Asleep at home,” he hums. “No way for us to check that. Sohee was on her way back from swim practice and when she didn’t show up at home at the regular time by 10pm her mother started worrying. They claimed they would call the police the next day, but of course it was too late.”

“They didn’t think their daughter not showing up at home was a cause for panic?” You ask. “It’s weird to me. She wasn’t the rebellious type, so this must not have been normal behaviour.”

“You’re set on the parents, aren’t you?” Yoongi grins, stretching his legs out.

“It’s just this feeling, I don’t even have an explanation for it.”

“A hunch.”

“Yes but no proof,” You grit your teeth in frustration.

It rains on your second day in Busan. You roll out of bed to the sound of the tell-tale pitter patter and groan. Getting ready and putting on the jeans from yesterday along with a black dress shirt, you hop around trying to tuck it into the waistband. There’s a knock on your door and you open it to greet Jungkook.

“Oh—hey,” he is not who you expected to be at your door so early in the morning.

“Your partner left your hotel info with Tae.” He says, curious eyes peering around your hotel room. You quirk a small smile and let him in. He sits down on the chair Yoongi was occupying last night.

“So, what’s up?”

“We found a suspiciously large amount of money in a savings account under Park Sohee’s name,” Jungkook is still looking around your room curiously and you don’t know why.

“Suspicious?”

“She was sixteen,” he says. “What’s a 16 year old doing with fifty million won?” Your eyes widen at the amount.

“Do her parents know?”

“We’re going down to see them now that’s why I’m here.” Jungkook stands up. “Where’s Min?”

“In his room probably. He’s not a morning person.” Jungkook blinks down at you.

“You two aren’t sharing a room?”

“Huh?” You pause mid-way of packing your backpack for the day. “Why would we?”

“Because… you’re together—wait what,” Jungkook looks so confused you almost find it adorable.

“What the fuck Jeon, we’re not together – not like that.” You say.

“B-but yesterday you said you’d moved on with him—”

“Yes, as partners – you know? The thing we do for work.” You’re trying not to laugh.

“B-but you own a dog together and live together.”

“We’re cops, Jeon, not billionaires. Rent in Seoul is atrocious, he’s my roommate. Also, Holly is Yoongi’s dog, not mine.”

“Oh my god,” Jungkook hides his face behind his hands and sits back down. You’re laughing. “I’m sorry for assuming.”

“You know—you should ask Yoongi how Jung Hoseok is doing.” You say, grinning.

“Who?” Jungkook looks up.

“His boyfriend,” you’re trying hard not to burst back into giggles. “Lives in Gwangju on a temporary assignment. The guy whose room I’m technically renting out. They were roommates before getting together. When he had to move out for work, Yoongi needed someone to help cover the rent.”

“Oh my god,” Jungkook moans, hiding behind his hands again. “I am so sorry.”

“It’s alright,” you say laughing. “Easy mistake to make… I think?” Jungkook is looking at you from in-between his fingers.

“So then, are you seeing anyone?” His direct tone throws you off. You turn to fully look at him, but a knock on the door interrupts you both.

It’s Yoongi, and he doesn’t look surprised to see Jungkook in your room.

“Taehyung texted me,” he says. “Detective Jeon,” he adds in greeting.

“Please,” Jungkook smiles, “call me Jungkook.” Yoongi raises both his eyebrows and looks at you in question and you’re trying to fight laughter once again.

The ride to the victim’s parents’ house is quiet. Taehyung drives and you spend the time pondering over Jungkook’s words from earlier. He’d been angry yesterday because he’d assumed you and Yoongi were together. You frown to yourself because nothing makes sense. Had he fallen out with Jangmi? But it’s not like Jungkook had ever thought about you as anything other than a friend. You remember his words from back then, loud and clear, and they come back to you now.

“I’m sorry.”

You remember his apologetic eyes, the glint of his wedding band; he had looked like a child who’d been told off. You hate that look, the pity staring down at you. But most of all you hate the fact that you’d been rejected before you’d even had a chance to explain. A mutual friend had let the cat out of the bag at a party, and Jungkook being Jungkook had confronted you right away. None of it had been on your own terms.

You’d brushed it off as a small crush, defence mechanisms kicking in, but things had never been the same afterwards. Jungkook had always been good at seeing right through you and he could tell you’d been lying about the depth of your feelings.

You clench your fist. Moving to Seoul had meant burying all this behind you, pretending none of it had happened, forgetting about Jungkook and how madly in love you’d been with him. You’d always been good at compartmentalizing, it’s what made you a good cop. You’d ignored everything for two years. Until now.

Yoongi calls your name, breaking you out of your reverie. You’re at Park Sohee’s home, but you can see from your seat in the car that the main door is ajar. Jungkook is already tossing you a vest which you hastily put on. He pulls out his gun and exits out the car. The three of you follow suit.

“Stand guard at the back, we’ll clear the house.” Taehyung tells you and you and Yoongi nod. The two of you position yourself near the backdoor. After about 10 minutes you hear Jungkook shout. The backdoor opens, and his head peeks out.

“Father missing, but we found his wife,” at your expression, he continues, “Dead, in the bathtub. Overdosed, it seems, in an apparent suicide. She left a note.” He holds up a piece of paper.

“Her husband, a nasty man, is our guy.”

“Where is he?”

“Taehyung is putting a trace on his credit cards and cellphone as we speak.”

You’re reading the note, disgust piling up inside you. Sohee’s father had been an abusive man, and she was planning on running away and going to the police. She sold some of her clothes and other belongs to earn money through the years. The mother, an abused woman herself was complicit in the crime but had been unable to handle the guilt.

“This man killed his daughter and is directly responsible for another woman’s death. We better find him.”

At that moment, Taehyung appears at the door.

“Got him, let’s go.”

“When we said he was amateur at this, I didn’t mean this amateur.” You say, staring at the balding man through the one-sided mirror.

“He panicked when his daughter threatened to go to the police and killed her in a fit of rage. Then he tried to cover it up.”

“Only a psychopath tries to copy other psychopaths.” Yoongi says behind you. Jungkook is in the interrogation room, dark jeans and a dark t-shirt on, looking like he’s going to strangle the living daylights out of Park Sohee’s killer. His arms are bare for the first time since you’ve been back, and you can see the black ink swirling all the way up and disappearing into his sleeve. They’re all little designs, instead of a cohesive piece, as though he got them done separately.

“When are you guys heading out?” Taehyung asks. “We should at least grab a drink before you go.”

“We managed to get in on a train this evening,” Yoongi says apologetically. “Duty calls back home.”

“We’re still going to stop in Daegu for the night to wish Yoongi’s mother a happy birthday.” You tell Taehyung. “Early morning tomorrow, we head back to Seoul.”

“That’s too bad,” Taehyung nudges you playfully. “We barely had time to catch up.” You smile slightly, still staring at Jungkook, who’s coaxing a confession out of the man. You can’t deny that you want to leave Busan as soon as possible, but somewhere deep inside your heart breaks.

Park Sohee’s father confesses not too shortly after that and the case is officially closed. Taehyung suggests a late lunch at a nearby restaurant as a final get-together before you and Yoongi have to leave in the evening. Jungkook doesn’t say much throughout the meal, only offering a distracted smile every now and then.

When the four of you are heading out Jungkook grabs your wrist.

“Can we talk?” he asks and you look over at Yoongi who gives you a small smile.

“I’ll meet you at the train station tonight then,” is all he says before pulling Taehyung away towards his car. Jungkook is still looking at you.

“Walk with me,” he says, and you do, falling into step beside him. “I think we need to clear up some misunderstandings.”

“Misunderstandings?”

“I broke up with Jangmi,” he starts and you’re genuinely surprised to hear that. “Actually—she broke up with me. It’s been over a year since.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you say carefully, hating yourself for the selfish happiness that blooms inside you. “What happened?”

“She left me for someone else,” Jungkook says, smiling lightly. He doesn’t look hurt. “Someone who can love her way more than I ever could.”

“That’s so not true,” you argue back. “You loved her.”

“I did,” he agrees, and you try not to wince. It’s harder to hear it than say it. “To an extent. When she left, I didn’t cry. In fact, I was barely upset, and I hated myself even more for that. But then Jangmi pointed something out that made me see things very clearly.”

“What was that?” you whisper. The two of you are standing beside Nakdong river now, cyclists and runners passing by you in the blink of an eye. The air smells fresh and cold, the rain having left behind a chill and bright blue sky.

“She pointed out that I was more upset when you moved away than I was when she told me there was someone else for her.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding.

“Oh.” Is all you say.

“When I apologized yesterday, for ruining everything, I meant that I was sorry that I was so confused. My confusion and indecisiveness ruined everything. When everything became clear to me, you were already gone.”

“Why didn’t you contact me?” you ask, your voice still hushed.

“I tried,” he is being earnest now. “Your parents had already moved to Seoul, and I contacted Kim Jooyoung from school to see if she knew of your contact information, she was your best friend in college after all. All she had was a cellphone and a landline phone number, but it was worth a shot. When I called, your old roommate picked up and said you’d moved in with some guy. When I tried your cellphone, it was dead.”

“Oh I-I changed my number,” you say, your voice shaky. “I don’t even remember why now—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jungkook’s voice is urgent. “Before today I’d made peace with the fact that you were the one that got away. I could look you up using my connections but until today I was under the assumption you’d moved on. But you’re here now, by some miracle, if I can even call it that given the circumstances, but to me its too big of a coincidence to just pass up.”

You watch him quietly. He’s slightly out of breath and the wind ruffles through his dark hair.

“You never got to answer my question from earlier,” he says. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“N-no I’m not but—” You never get to finish your sentence because Jungkook is leaning in and crushing his lips to yours. His hands come up to rest on your shoulders, then your neck and then your cheeks, which he grazes with his thumbs. Once you get over your initial shock, you reach up to tentatively grasp his t-shirt on both sides. He tastes like the hot chocolate he had with his lunch. You feel his tongue tentatively swiping at you and you open yourself up to him. Immediately, he tilts his head to deepen the kiss.

After what feels like both, and eternity and a few short seconds, he pulls away. His lips are glistening and swollen and he’s out of breath.

“Don’t leave,” he whispers, hands still cupping your cheeks. “Stay here.” Slowly, you pull away, resting a hand on his chest to steady yourself.

“You’re asking a lot of me,” you start. “My entire life is in Seoul, Jungkook, I can’t just up and leave—”

“You just up and left Busan,” he says, and you freeze. Studying your sudden shift in expression, he hastily corrects himself, “I didn’t mean it like that. That came out wrong.”

“Jungkook,” you say, hoping you sound more patient than you feel. “Things are different now; I’m almost settled down in Seoul. I love Busan, I do, but I have no intention of moving back here. My family lives in Seoul now too and my lease with Yoongi isn’t even up, and I love my job, I wouldn’t dream to leave it.” Jungkook abruptly pulls away. “And I won’t ask you to leave Busan, I know how much you love it here.”

“Then what now,” he asks, a small smile on his face. “That’s it? You leave tonight and I never hear from you again?”

“I never said that,” you say softly. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“Dramatic is my middle name,” he mumbles, and you giggle. “Do you at least feel the same way?”

“Of course, I do,” you say. “Otherwise I’d have pushed you into the river by now for your advances. Give me some time to think things through alright?”

“But—”

“We have a case back home that needs us, I really do have to go back today. Yoongi’s visiting his family tonight and I’ve made him a promise to come along and they’re expecting me. I won’t go back on that.”

Jungkook is now silent, staring wordlessly at you.

“Do you trust me?” you ask.

“Yes.” He answers. There’s no hesitation in his voice. You smile.

Six Months Later

“Are you sure?” Yoongi asks. The party is in full swing, loud music almost drowning out his voice. He’s holding a cup of clear liquid in his hands and you doubt it’s water.

“Yeah it’s not a problem, I can watch Holly for the weekend.”

“I’ll drop him off on Friday then,”

“That’s fine! You and Hobi deserve the weekend away.”

“But it’s not a hassle for you? It’s your weekend off too,”

“Yoongi I’m not going to try and convince you to let me take care of your dog in the middle of Hoseok’s welcome-back-bash.”

“What’re you two whispering about?” Hoseok slithers in next to you, tossing an arm around your neck.

“Yoongi’s worried about his dog,” you roll your eyes. “This has never happened before.”

“I’m not worried,” Yoongi seethes, making you and Hoseok laugh. “I just don’t want my dog being neglected because you and Jeon are copulating like rabbits all weekend.” Blood rushes to your ears and you grit your teeth.

“Jungkook’s going to be too busy this weekend for that, I promise you.”

“Oh yeah, has he found an apartment yet?” Hoseok asks conversationally.

“Yeah, he’s signing the lease on Friday, and then moving here over the weekend.”

“And he starts work on Monday?” You nod.

“The Organized Crime boys are gonna love him,” Yoongi grins. “Man will fit right in. Where is he anyway? I haven’t seen him since you two arrived.”

“Right here Min,” Jungkook pops out of nowhere, a wide grin plastered on his face. You roll your eyes. “What’s up?”

“Yoongi thinks we aren’t responsible enough to take care of his precious dog.”

“I believe the phrase he used was, ‘copulating like rabbits’” Hoseok chimes in unhelpfully. You elbow him in the stomach. Jungkook eyes you, grin fading a little and you recognize the dangerous spark in his eyes.

“Well he’s not wrong—” he starts, but is met by loud interruptions from you, Yoongi and Hoseok.

“Too much information!” Yoongi yells, downing his drink. “You two are disgusting! Lets go Hobi.”

Jungkook comes up to you, still grinning slyly and you automatically slip your arm around his waist.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” you ask, looking up at him. Jungkook has an arm around your shoulder as he takes a sip of his beer.

“Bit too late to ask me that, don’t you think babe?” You pinch his waist and he yells out loud. “I didn’t move to Seoul for you, I moved here for the job.”

“Ha. Ha,” you roll your eyes, but a part of you knows it’s partially true anyway. Long distance between Busan and Seoul hadn’t treated you too badly and things had been going surprisingly well. You were a good five months into your newfound relationship when there had been a sudden opening in the Organized Crime unit, a real step-up for Jungkook’s career. Jungkook had told you once he’d applied for the job that he’d have applied anyway regardless if you were in the picture or not, and you appreciated his honesty. Both of you had always been the type to put your careers first, but you couldn’t believe your luck that things had just fallen into place like this. You’re happy for him.

“Although having you here is a pretty sweet bonus,” Jungkook adds, making you smile. The two of you stand there in silence, arm-in-arm, enjoying the celebrations from afar.

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anarchy-and-piglins · 3 years ago

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Somehow Technoblade had managed the spectacular achievement of becoming the odd one out in an entire community made up of rare and strange beings.

The fact that all the other residents were non-humans happened to be what made him different though. Wilbur had told him the history of the commune, how their town was founded with the direct purpose of being a safe place for mobs and hybrids to live in peace, secluded from the humans who hunted them, enslaved them, or would otherwise harm them. Their location was kept secret, hidden from most by enchantments, and they were almost completely self-sufficient in the way they were run in terms of food and stuff.

Only occasionally would somebody wander out to another village, to trade or just to seek a little adventure for themselves. Phil especially was prone to do this – a traveler at heart, his Elytrian nature – and he was the one who had found Technoblade in a rather... compromising position.

If by compromising you could mean having an arrow sticking out your back.

People didn't like Technoblade. And Technoblade generally didn't like people, but he liked it even less when they chased him out of their villages with their bows drawn. Phil had been kind enough to remove the projectile. Technoblade had bravely said it didn't hurt but then secretly dug his blunt nails into the palms of his hands hard enough to leave white indents. Then Phil had insisted on taking him home to get a proper look at the wound and clean it up.

Not all of the other residents were thrilled with Technoblade's presence at first, scared it could compromise their location. A lot of their tunes had changed when they found out other humans were the cause of his injury, even more so when Techno revealed this was hardly an isolated incident. People didn't like Technoblade at all.

(Most humans had little tolerance for that which they did not understand. And according to them, Technoblade was weird and very hard to understand. Techno understood himself perfectly fine, he always thought they were the weird ones.)

So he stayed and overall things worked out great. There were only minor issues caused by the 'only human around' thing. Their pub was a good example. A few of the others in the commune could simply fly or teleport, and those that couldn't had no problems either since they could rely on inhuman stamina to make the climb tolerable. Techno had a hundred rungs of a ladder he needed to brave with his pitiful human physique if he wanted to get up there. Same thing for Phil's ridiculously high-up birdhouse.

And then one day he got sick.

It was probably his own fault. Last night when it was storming he'd been coming home from mining and gotten completely soaked out in the rain. A small voice in the back of his mind told him he should probably take his drenched clothes off and get warm and comfortable as soon as he got home – the voice sounded suspiciously like Phil when he lectured Techno about fixing his terrible sleeping schedule and eating more regularly. But he had gotten distracted by putting away the materials he'd mined into his chests and starting to smelt the ore and by the time he noticed he was shivering at how cold it was, his clothes were damp more than wet. He lighted the fire and felt too exhausted to bother getting changed, crawling under the covers as he was - though it didn't completely ward away further trembling.

When he woke up his head hurt and there was this annoying tickle in his chest, feather-light touches against his lungs. The clothes had become sticky and uncomfortable, peeling off his skin. Techno coughed into a fist and set out as normal, intent on resuming his tasks where he left off yesterday.

It would probably go away on its own.

Except the coughing didn't stop. Small bursts of it kept coming up when he needed them least. He was in the middle of one when a voice rang out behind him.

"Techno, are you okay dude?" He must have jumped a solid three feet into the air and for a moment Wilbur only chuckled at his reaction.

"I told you to stop doing that," Techno grumbled, a little too sharply. Just because Wilbur could literally appear out of nowhere didn't mean he had to use that ability to sneak up on him for no reason. Techno coughed again, hiding it in his elbow.

"You did," Wilbur acknowledged with a smirk, but didn't apologize. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look I'm doing, I'm headed to the mines." Techno swung his pickaxe up on his shoulder, kind of almost nearly dropping it in the process with how clumsy his hands were being. Stupid.

"It looks like you were hacking up a lung, really." Wilbur's features softened. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine," Techno responded. He started walking again, knowing Wilbur would have a hard time following him while in corporeal form. Especially in the daytime.

"Are you coming to the pub later? I've got some new plans to unveil, think they'll be sick." Wilbur did make a valiant attempt at following him, though he quickly started falling behind, floating inches above the ground and unable to keep up with Techno's human strides.

"Uh, I'll think about it?" Techno answered evasively. He wasn't looking forward to braving that ladder in his current state. His arms hurt just thinking about it.

Wilbur stopped to call after him. "What do you mean you'll think about it?"

But Techno was far enough gone to be able to pretend not to hear him as he descended down his mineshaft.

Techno liked Niki's hair a lot. He'd even told her so not long after meeting her.

It was long and wavy and a nice shade of pastel pink that reminded him of the sunset. Technoblade would consider growing out his own hair that long if he didn't know it was way too unruly to keep in shape and stay untangled. And if dyeing it wasn't such a chore – one he knew he'd be too lazy to undertake as regularly as he should – he might have dyed it from its boring brown shade into something more interesting.

Niki was glad he was keeping her company while she tended to it, combing through it with what he presumed was a comb made of a seashell. Techno didn't tell her he had only really left the mines early because his lungs were starting to strain from the dust down there, the coughing fits getting closer together with less time in between to let him breathe. He sat on the sandy shore and traced patterns into the sand with one finger while they talked.

Niki was telling him about her builds, and expressing her disappointment over how she couldn't easily show them to her friends. None of them could breathe underwater or deal with the pressure common at the depths Niki lived. But she loved describing them in detail.

She was just explaining the sea glass she was intending to use when Technoblade started coughing again. His lungs expressed their displeasure through a series of sharp pangs that shot up into his neck. The sound he made was wet and disgusting, like there was something liquid rattling around inside his chest. Niki stopped talking to look at him worriedly.

"Are you alright? Techno, what happened?"

He tried to wave her away but it was kind of hard with his body still intent on making it impossible for him to get oxygen. Techno closed his eyes against the blurriness of his vision to concentrate on inhaling slower instead. "M'fine." He could feel the phlegm in his throat.

Niki was pulling herself onto the beach a little, trying to get a closer look at him. "Are you sick?"

"No." Getting up so fast was a bad idea. His head spun and he felt incredibly shaky. Techno ignored it. "No, I'm not. It's fine. I think I'll just head home now."

He started walking away quickly. The afternoon sun felt unbearable suddenly, scorching. Or maybe that was the beginning of a fever.

Niki called after him to wait but confined to the water as she was, it wasn't like she could do anything to stop him. Technoblade walked until he crested the hill, already seeing the shape of the other buildings in the distance. He made it halfway through the grass field and then he felt too drained to continue. Deciding to sit down for a bit, he lay back and closed his eyes.

"Do you think he's dead?"

"I dunno, we should poke him with a stick to find out."

Techno groaned at the sound of loud voices, ringing painfully around his aching head. He cracked his eyes open – not sure when he had even fallen asleep - and tried to blink the three faces hovering above him into focus.

"Oh, I think he's alive. Kind of." That was Ranboo.

"We could still poke him, just to make sure." Tommy.

Which meant the third person had to be Tubbo.

Techno pushed up on his elbows to get into a seated position, hating how difficult it was. His limbs were weak, as if they were made of jelly or some shit. The light fever had escalated into him feeling like his entire body was on fire.

This was not good.

"-chno? Hey, anybody home?" Tubbo was talking to him, waving one hand in front of his face. If his frown was any indication, Techno had been spacing out for a while.

"Hm?" he asked.

"I think there's something wrong with him," Tubbo said to the others.

"I'm fine." Techno tried standing up but fell back onto his ass a moment later when dizziness plowed into him with the force of a boulder. Tommy snorted.

"Yeah, we can tell." He reached out but pulled his hand back as soon as it came into contact with Techno's skin. "Fuck you're almost the same temperature as Jack Manifold. Pretty sure humans aren't supposed to run that hot."

"I'll get Phil," Ranboo offered, teleporting before Techno had a chance to object.

He covered his face with his hands and sighed. This was going to be a thing now and that happened to be the exact opposite of what Technoblade wanted it to be. He just wanted to go home and sleep this off.

"You're not..." Tubbo broke through his thoughts. The boy hesitated, wings vibrating a bit with nervous energy. "You're not like... actually dying are you?"

Techno tried to answer but was interrupted by another coughing fit first. When he was done Tubbo looked even more anxious than before. "Probably not. It's just a cold."

It was definitely not a simple cold. Pneumonia, more likely.

"Oh good."

Techno agreed. Not dying would probably be good, even if he currently felt like death warmed over.

Philza took him to the pub, much to Technoblade's horror.

All his protests and insistence he'd be fine if he was just taken to his house were brushed off easily, especially when Phil took flight with Techno barely able to keep from falling off his back when dark spots took over his vision. If it weren't for Phil's supporting hands keeping him steady he's probably have fallen off.

Normally Techno didn't dislike flying with Phil – despite the other always making some quip about how little Techno weighed for his height. But this time the vertigo was horrible and made him want to puke. Maybe it was fortunate he had skipped breakfast this morning.

They landed on the wooden porch softly, Phil keeping Techno's arm around his shoulder as he put him down to make sure he wouldn't collapse. Techno wasn't about to admit he probably needed that, though he muttered a quick thanks under his breath, which was starting to get more wheezing by the minute. There wasn't an inch of his body that didn't ache.

There were a few beds in the backrooms of the pub, sometimes used for newcomers to temporarily reside. Techno found himself dumped into one, not really caring where Phil went when he left the room. Not when the sheets were so blessedly cool and comfortable. He could have probably fallen back asleep soon if Phil hadn't returned almost instantly.

"I checked with Sneeg, he said this should help a little." Phil sat down on the bed, holding up a cup with the nastiest-looking brown tea inside it Technoblade ever did see. "I'm sorry we don't have any real potions to give you, but he's closest to you in physiology, so I'm hoping this will be enough. We don't exactly have a lot of experience with human illness."

"Did you ask him if it was poisonous?" Techno asked, eyeing the steaming liquid.

"Don't be dramatic." Phil handed him the cup. Techno sighed and downed the herbal tea in one go, suppressing his gag reflex. Medicinal and earthy, it somehow tasted worse than it looked. He didn't think that was possible.

"Great, can I go home now?"

Phil shook his head as he got up again, taking the cup from him. "You're not going anywhere until your fever breaks. You think I flew you all the way up here for fun?"

"Possibly."

Rolling his eyes as he leaves the room, Phil once again came back only a moment later. This time he was holding a bowl of what Techno could only presume was water going by the cloth that was soaking in it. Phil gestured for him to lie down properly and this time Techno obeyed without complaint.

"I think it's best if you stay here for a while," he said while folding the cloth and putting it on Techno's forehead. The coldness of it did feel nice against his pounding headache. "The pub is the best place for us to take turns keeping an eye on you."

"I don't need you guys to keep an eye on me, though. I'm not a child."

"No, you're just a stubborn asshole with pneumonia." Phil drew back a bit, smile faltering. "And also the only human currently living in the commune. We don't have the needed supplies to treat you should this get worse, so I'd rather not take the risk."

And while he did a fair job hiding it, it was undeniably clear Phil was worried.

"Fine, I'll stay." Techno made an effort of showing how annoyed he was by huffing and pulling the blankets over himself. "But can you at least get me a book or something? Won't help much keeping me here if I'll be bored to death."

Phil laughed – light and teasing. Techno liked that a lot more than he did the worry.

"I'll see what I can do."

He spent a solid week in bed.

Much to Phil's relief, Techno's sickness did not get worse. But without proper medicine, it didn't improve as quickly as they would have liked either. He had to get better the old-fashioned way: waiting for his body to fight off the infection on its own.

Most of his time was spent sleeping. Whenever he woke up somebody else was at his bedside, to make sure he could eat and drink. Phil hadn't been kidding when he said they'd take turns. It was almost comforting to know there was always someone watching over him while he slept, though Techno didn't feel the need to say that out loud.

After that first week, he was recovered enough to at least limp out of his room and around the pub. He was too weak to attempt the ladder and any sudden moves were still likely to throw him into a coughing fit that could last several minutes. But he could sit at one of the tables and talk to Niki when she visited.

Or to the others, who all seemed to be coming by a lot more often than was usual.

Wilbur unveiled his plans and talked Techno's ear off about what he was working on. Fundy came all the way to the pub to try and sell him stolen trinkets. Ranboo was always coming around with some new book for him to read, asking him if he liked his previous recommendation.

(None of them visited as often as Tommy though, who always complained about having to be there while fluffing up his wings, yet always stuck around the longest even when Techno told him he'd be fine on his own.)

And with them around, Techno realized that despite being the only human, he had never felt less alone.

#technoblade #origin smp #mcyt #shara writes #human techno my beloved <3 #also sickfic mY BELOVED

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spencesglasses · 4 years ago

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sweet creature (spencer reid x f! reader) pt 3

a/n: no spence in this part, sorry to disappoint you simps. but uhh, y/n and jj rights! but as besties <3

tw! there are mentions of sexual assault and a minor character death! please be aware before reading!!

part one | part four

“St. Augustine, Florida,” Penelope starts, showcasing the most recent case. “Two bodies were found early this evening in a remote wooded area just west of the city. Neither have been identified yet.”

“This woman’s complexion…” Tara said, looking at the pictures of a woman with various injuries on her face.

Y/N looked at the board beside Penelope. “… she was exsanguinated.” she hissed.

“Correct, my dearest, which is a really fun word to say, but I didn’t know its terrible meaning until I started working here.”

“Odd that the only female had her blood removed,” Rossi said across the round table.

“Well, the male victim might have been collateral damage or a witness that needed to be silenced.” JJ added.

“I mean, it is the kind of message that would be sent to each other. The Curiel Syndicate recently set up shop in Florida,”

“Except it looks like these two were meant without anyone the wiser. How is that a message?” Asked Rossi.

“Well, cartels have also been known to use murder as a form of voodoo.” Derek pointed out. “In 1989, a University of Texas student was murdered by a satanic gang while on spring break.”

Y/N leaned further into the table, reviewing the photos they were given. “My guess is that this has nothing to do with drugs. Maybe someone with a blood fetish-”

“Vampirism?” JJ asked.

Y/N hums in response, glancing at her for a brief moment.

“It’s late and we need to hit the ground running. Wheels up in 30.” Hotch said as he closed the file he held, gathering any necessary belongings for the case.

Without another word, the team mirrored his actions and followed him out. This was one of the first few cases she has worked on with the team without Spencer. She didn’t mind it, of course. The team welcomed her with open arms and treated her as if she had always been there, which she appreciated. She had gotten used to everything that came with the job, and grew closer to the team, but she wouldn’t be lying if she said that some things she sees still make her skin crawl.

Y/N looked out the window of the jet, admiring the contrast of the dark, star filled sky beneath the white clouds. She was seated with JJ, Hotch, and Morgan at the small table, the rest of the team claiming their spot to the seats to their right.

“The coroner attributed the lacerations on the bodies to animal bites.” Morgan said. “Apparently there are a lot of raccoons in that area.”

Y/N felt JJ nudge her slightly and brought her attention back to the file on her lap, flipping through the photos. “The media’s going on about satanic mutilation.”

“It’s happened before. The West Memphis three case showed how animal activity on a corpse can be mistaken for a ritualized torture.” Hotch noted.

“After the first bite, the insect infestation expands and distorts the open wounds,” Said Rossi.

Y/N heard Garcia groan over the laptop speaker, seeing her face scrunch up in disgust on the screen. “Ok, here’s my finger, here’s the mute button. Are you guys done talking about the critter damage?”

JJ and Y/N shared a look, and she smiled. “You can put your finger down, Pen, we’re done,”

“Thank you, and Y/N’s right; local news and radio outlets are going wild with this being a blood-worshipping cult murder.” she continues typing. “Hey, new information. Both of those bodies have just been identified, Cheyenne Pravato, 23 and George Henning, 71.”

The team leaned forward to inspect the photos of the recent victims popping up on the screen.

“Any connection?” asked Hotch.

“My level-one search says no, my level 2 through 20 await. Cheyenne was a waitress that is currently unemployed. Henning was a retired steelworker from Pennsylvania, lived in Florida a few years. They both went missing 3 days ago.”

“3 days?” Tara questioned. “Coroner estimated the time of death as less than 24 hours from the time of discovery?”

“Preliminary indicators show no sign of torture or sexual assault,” JJ said.

Y/N’s eyebrows knit together in thought, trying to piece together the information. “What was he doing with them?”

The team brought their attention to Hotch, and he said, “Dave, you find out what you can about Cheyenne from friends and family. Morgan, you do the same thing for Henning. JJ, I need you to rein in the media. And, Lewis, Y/L, you two go to the M.E.. Hysteria’s growing and we need to contain it.”

“Still waiting on the full tox screen for the male victim,” said the medical examiner.

“We think they may have been held for up to two days.” Tara said. “Were they fed?”

“Stomach contents were empty, but nutrition and hydration levels were normal. My guess is they were both fed through an I.V.” he said, lifting the fabric that covered the body. “I did find one curiosity,”

He uncovered the victim's calf, showing a mark on the skin with red rings around it. Y/N furrowed her brows, her eyes scanning the injured spot. “It looks like an animal bite?”

“Not under magnification. It’s actually a surgically precise triangle,”

She saw Tara’s face harden in the corner of her eye; she turned to her and they shared a questioning look. They heard the telephone ring from across the room, and the medical examiner was quick to answer it. Tara lifted the fabric once more, bending down to look closer at the injury.

“You’re positive of that?” Y/N heard him ask over the phone. The medical examiner hung up the phone, turning on his heel to face the two women. “The tox screen and DNA tests on George Henning just came back. You ready for this? Most of the blood in his body isn’t his…”

Y/N tilted her head. “Then whose…”

“It’s Cheyenne’s…”

Her whole body tensed at his words, and Tara’s jaw dropped in shock.

Y/N tapped her pencil against the table as she read over the tox screening. “The blood drained from Cheyenne was put into George Henning?” Morgan questioned, gesturing to the document in her hand.

She slid the paper across the table for him to read. “It is strange, a triangle was cut into his calf muscle too,”

“And there’s still something in the toxicology screen that the M.E. can’t identify.” Hotch said.

“Yeah, we’re hoping to find something more in the next few hours,”

Morgan slid back the report to her. She heard footsteps coming closer to the room they occupied and turned to see JJ walking in. She greeted her with a small wave and smile, to which she returned. JJ leaned against Y/N’s chair, resting her hand on the back of it. “So, it took a little arm-wrestling,” she starts. “But the media finally saw the wisdom in toning down the whole demon worship angle,”

“Don’t take a victory lap just yet,” Rossi said, Y/N handing her the tox report.

“You’re kidding,” JJ huffed.

Tara picked up the photos from the M.E., flipping them over for JJ to see. “Y/L and I are just trying to work out this whole calf muscle business,”

“Triangles are big in illuminati symbolism.” Rossi recounted.

Morgan let out a sharp exhale. “This is just bending back toward cult behavior.”

“What did you find out about George Henning?” Hotch asked him.

“According to the neighbors, the guy was a shut-in. No friends, a lot of health problems — hypertension, parkinson’s,”

“Cheyenne was the opposite,” Rossi interjected. “Vegan, into new age lifestyles. Never met a harmonic convergence she didn't want to converge on.”

“Well, I mean, I get it with him; he was a recluse, but how did nobody notice her missing for 3 days?”

“Her friends said that Cheyenne was flighty. It was not unusual for her to take off without notice for a week or two.”

“Transfusions and sustained I.V. feeding takes skill, planning and access to materials, and as crude as it was, the replacing of old blood with new is dialysis.” Hotch said. “ What if the triangle isn’t a symbol, but a tissue sample? Could this be medical experimentation?”

“Yeah, I mean, you’ve got a youthful, healthy host in Cheyenne and a sick test subject in Henning,”

“If the new missing girl’s his next victim, the unsub could be getting ready to try again,” JJ said, clutching the back of Y/N’s chair.

Y/N gave her a look of confusion. “New missing girl?”

“A missing persons report came in earlier today, Andrea Gambrell,” JJ explained. “Her car was found abandoned at a cemetery near Jacksonville. Cheyenne and Andrea waitressed at the same restaurant.”

“If Andrea mirrors Cheyenne, then who mirrors George?” Y/N asked.

“I guess that’s what we have to figure out.”

Y/N stood with JJ and Hotch looking over photos they’ve gathered throughout the case, trying to come up with a conclusion. She tapped her foot anxiously against the tile beneath her feet, her brows furrowing as she looked closely at the photos. The sound of Hotch’s phone ringing startled her, making her jump. She let out a deep breath and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. JJ took notice of a very flustered looking Y/N and placed a hand on her shoulder gently. “You okay there?”

She gave her a half-hearted smile, moving past her to stand next to Hotch. “‘m fine.”

“What do you have, Garcia?” he asked.

He asked her to search for doctors or any medical professionals in the area, anyone that could pop up as a red flag, and of course, Garcia was quick to find just what they needed. “Nothing on my crimson flag doctor search, but I did learn about something with a super cool name,” she said through the speaker. “The mad scientist club,”

JJ took a step, now standing beside Y/N. “And what is that?’ she asked.

“They’re a student group from the Florida College of Medicine in Jacksonville. Before the disbanded, they used to get together and talk about experimental ways to cure disease.”

“Do you have any names of the people in the club?” Y/N questioned.

“Uh, kinda, sorta, not really. They were totally informal. Here’s the part that made me sit up straight. They used to meet at a local cemetery,”

JJ scoffed. “Let me guess, the same cemetery where Andrea Gambrell disappeared.”

“Yeah! The very one!”

“Alright,” Hotch started. “Keep working on the names and see if you can find out what the club disbanded.”

“Okay,” Garcia said before hanging up.

Before the three of them could say another word, Y/N's own phone started ringing. She reached into her back pocket and held the phone up to her ear. “Agent Y/L,”

“Yes, agent, I’ve got the full tox screen of George Henning,” he said, Y/N bringing her phone from her ear so she could put it on speaker. “There were massive levels of massive levodopa in his system.”

“The parkinson's drug?”

“Correct,”

Y/N bit the inside of her cheek. “But the blood was replaced with Cheyenne’s. Does that mean the levodopa was introduced into his system after the transfusion?”

“Yes, ma’am. We got the results of the other DNA samples and the surprises keep coming. Found traces of mesoglea and testudinata keratin,”

“That is…” she urges him to continue.

“Jellyfish and turtle. George Henning had animal DNA in his system.” He said.

Y/N scrunched her nose, looking up to see JJ with her mouth slightly agape and Hotch with a deep frown. Y/N quickly says ‘thank you’ before hanging up. But before she could turn her phone off, a quiet ding! went off notifying her about a new message.

“Guys,” she alerted. “Another body was found.”

“You two check that out, see what you can find. I’ll brief the team on the tox screening.”

Y/N and JJ walked in silence, their shoulders bumping as they made their way to the site where the latest victim was found. “Okay so, a homeless man found him,” Y/N breaks the silence, lifting the police tape for her and JJ to go under. The officer close by handed them both gloves to search the area and a bag of belongings found on the victim. “We I.D.’d him as Harold McDermott, longtime local resident.”

“He didn’t even bother hiding the body this time.” JJ said. “The unsub might be unraveling,”

“He must’ve been the new George Henning.” Y/N muttered, crouching down and her eyes scanning the injuries the man ensued. “I don’t even want to think about what might be swimming around in his bloodstream.”

JJ crouched down to her level. “No obvious tissue removal, bruising on his face and chest.” she looked at Y/N, then to the bag in her hand. “What’s in there?”

Y/N eyebrows rose, following JJ’s gaze to the items in the clear bag. She stood up, opened the bag and it was a wallet. With a medical card. Ah, of course we’d find something like this in here, she thought. “It’s a medical I.D. card” she said, pulling it out for JJ to see. “Our victim suffered from epilepsy and cortico-basal degeneration…”

They tore their eyes away from the card, glancing up to each other. “We better deliver the profile.”

It’s been a few hours since they’ve delivered the profile to local authorities, and since then, they’ve gotten more information to help them solve the case. The M.E. had found more animal DNA in George Hennings body: sea urchin and some other type of tropical parrot neither of them could identify.

Penelope was able to locate one of the former members of the Mad Scientist Club, Diane Haller, and she was able to go in to talk to Tara; finding out that there was a man that could be a potential lead. Robert, or Richard, Diane couldn’t remember his name, but the club called him the magic man. He only went to the gathering a few times, according to Diane, and while he was there he would go on about how they were in a ‘magical place’. He attended the Florida College of Medicine in Jacksonville while the club was still active, his interest being in neuroscience.

A local doctor went missing, Laura Braga. She was a neurologist, which they believed was a connection to the unsub. Dr. Braga was heading back to her office to get files she’d forgotten when she discovered that the unsub broke into her office trying to get extra levodopa.

“Garcia compiled a list of every medical student in the North Florida area with the first name of Richard or Robert, and I got to tell you guys, it’s a long list.” Tara said as she stood to the side of a board filled with photo evidence and a map of the area.

“So which one is our magic man?” JJ asked.

Y/N sat in the chair next to her, facing the board. She spun her chair around to face the other way and noticed a peculiar look on Rossi’s face. “What is it, Rossi?”

“They identified the bird DNA in Henning as coming from a scarlet macaw,”

“Mmhm. And?”

“That got me thinking about Turritopsis Dohrni,”

“Turri… what?’ Tara questioned him.

“It’s called the immortal jellyfish,” he explains. “Endlessly recycles its own cells through a process called transdifferentiation, a kind of lineage reprogramming.”

“Oh, my goodness. Dr. Spencer Reid, master of disguise.” JJ joked.

Y/N quirked an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth rising slightly. “If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve assumed that you were the resident genius, Rossi,”

He let out a soft chuckle. “No disguise. I called the kid last night.”

“Ahh,” Y/N and JJ said in unison.

“But think about it, jellyfish, turtle, sea urchin, and now a scarlet macaw. What do they all have in common?”

“A long lifespan.” Tara answered.

“Exactly, longer than a human’s.”

“So that means the unsub may not be focused on a specific disease but longevity,” Said JJ.

“Oh, God. Guys,” Tara gasped. “I think I know why the magic man thought this place was so magical,” She uses the file in her hand to point at the map. “We are right around the corner from the legendary Fountain of Youth.”

A local zoo reported a macaw stolen, the owner suspecting it to be a former employee, Robert Boles, who they’d believed to be the unsub. He went to medical school and flunked out in the middle of his first year. They found key information linking him to the case when Penelope found that he currently worked at the same hospital as Dr. Braga. The team rushed to the location where Boles did his experiments on his victims.

“All right, so, in high school Robert Boles got a summer job at a gift shop near the Fountain of Youth archaeological park.” JJ explained. “He got fired for breaking in after hours.”

Y/N and JJ sat in the back seat of the car, leaving Morgan and Hotch in the front. “That’s probably where his obsession with eternal youth started.”

They trudged through the hallways of the abandoned building with their guns pointed forward, ready to shoot if needed. “And I won’t let you get in the way!” they heard a man shout from one of the rooms.

The team followed the sound of the voice and turns the corner to see two men standing over a young woman. The younger man they’d identified as Robert Boles, and the young woman being Andrea Gambrell, Y/N assumed.

“Robert Boles, drop the weapon.” Hotch said sternly.

He whipped his head around to them.

“It’s over, man. You’re not getting out.” Morgan steps closer to him.

“Put the knife down, slowly.” JJ said.

Y/N watches as Boles lifts his arms in surrender, opening his hand to drop the knife. Morgan hurried to cuff him, while JJ rushed to untie Andrea strapped to the hospital bed.

“My wife needs help!” The other man, Ben Kebler, tells Hotch urgently.

“Where is she?”

“In the next room!” Mr. Kebler rushed out.

“Show me.” Hotch said, following him, and Y/N followed along. “Call an ambulance,” he tells her.

“Medics are on their way,” Y/N said softly, entering the room Hotch and JJ were in and she stood between them.

She looked down to see Eileen Kebler in the hospital bed, her husband leaning over her her. And her heart breaks. Eileen was dying.

“How is she?” Ben Kebler asked, eyes brimming with tears.

The three of them stayed silent, Y/N unable to comprehend what's happening, let alone come up with words to say in that moment. Hotch peers down at him, and Ben knows. He frantically shakes his head, hand shaking as he grabs his wife's hand. “What have I done?!”

“I’m cold,” Eileen mutters.

His face scrunched up. “Eileen, stay with me!” he pleads.

“I am always with you…” she whispers. “Always…”

And she was gone. Sobs echoed throughout the empty building, and Y/N could feel her heart bursting out of her chest. Her eyes watered with tears, then suddenly she felt a hand interlock with hers. It was JJ’s. She squeezes her hand gently, JJ rubbing soothing circles along her knuckles. She let out a soft exhale and used her free hand to wipe away any tears, trying to regain her composure. This part of the job was something she could never get used to. Something the rest of the team couldn’t get used to, no matter how long they’ve worked there.

It was safe to say that Y/N was not a night owl. The team were on their way home and she laid on the couch in the jet with a small pillow and blanket that could barely cover her. She smiled to herself as the memory of her finding Spencer snuggled with a far too small blanket the morning after their first movie night. She still cringes at the fact that she accidentally fell asleep barely into the first few movies, but smiles when she remembers what she woke up to. Y/N thought it was sweet that he stayed there with her, and finding Spencer curled up in a messy bundle of blankets made her heart grow twice its size. She took a mental note to call Spencer when they land, and she finally lets her eyes flutter shut, finally being able to rest.

tag list: @eevee0722 @ceeellewrites

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds imagines #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader

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killalluchihas · 3 years ago

Text

good vibes/bad juju - 38

While on a mission overseas, Gojo gets K-O’d by an unknown person. Within a week, every sorcerer in Japan has heard about it. (A JJK OC story - Rated M)

[Chapter One] [Ao3 link] [Previous] [Next]

—/—/—/—

chapter thirty-eight: again? She takes another look at him. Very tall, hair tied up in a bun. Scar over his eye. I have no idea who this guy is.

Yoshi doesn’t notice she’s missing a slap bracelet until Gojo is long gone. He just kept talking until he got a phone call about the mission he was supposed to be on—then he stayed for another half hour, casually placing things from her pantry onto the very top shelf of her kitchen cabinets until Yoshi kicked him out. She has six other new talismans to use, so it’s fine if she’s missing one, but it does confuse her.

As long as he's carrying that talisman, Yoshi can jump to his exact location. He knows this already.

However, Gojo left on Tuesday and the school event starts on Wednesday morning, so Yoshi doesn’t bother asking for the talisman back or going after him. It’s just a little annoying every time Yoshi looks down and sees six bracelets and no wristwatch. Her arms feel uneven, somehow.

When it comes to the school event, Yoshi’s more concerned about everyone else: the council member from Kyoto, the new students, and the teacher whose name Yoshi might have to write on her palm to remember. Shoko has mentioned the Kyoto teacher half a dozen times already, but without seeing her face or even hearing her voice, Yoshi definitely can’t recall her name.

Whoever she is, Shoko really likes her and Yoshi would like to make a good impression.

Wednesday morning is clear and bright, and hopefully that bodes well for the students’ competition. Yoshi makes her way to one of the school’s entrances, near the torii gates, still drinking coffee from the break room.

Toge notices her first, but Nobara’s the one to scream, “SENSEI! WHY AREN’T WE GOING TO KYOTO?!”

Yoshi lowers her coffee thermos, perplexed. “Because…we’re hosting?” Even Yoshi knows that part. One of the assistants, Iguchi or something, kept her up to date about school events. The competition today is a team event, and Yaga asked Yoshi in advance if she had any tagging system they could use to track the students’ progress.

“I can’t BELIEVE THIS!”

“No wonder our conversations have been a bit off,” Maki mutters. Megumi nods in silent agreement. They both look a little guilty, but it’s Panda that takes pity on Nobara and tells her what he knows. It’s all the information that Yoshi was also told, except Panda also mentions a student called Okkotsu that Yoshi has never met.

“So the teachers are—what, judging us from a luxury box all day?” Nobara aims her disappointment directly at Yoshi. “Sensei, you better promote me, I deserve a pay raise!”

“I’m not allowed to hand out recommendations,” Yoshi remarks, unmoved by Nobara’s puppy-dog eyes. “I’m here because Yaga gave me a minor role in today’s event.”

And since her students are endlessly curious teenagers, Yoshi digs into her pocket and shows them a plain tin box, engraved with miniscule sutras around its rim. Just to help build the anticipation.

“Another type of talisman?” Maki arches an eyebrow. “How many do you have, anyway?” she scoffs. But her eyes keep darting back to Yoshi, waiting for an answer.

“As many as I need.” Yoshi tucks the box away for now, intending to finish her coffee before she has to do any explanations. “Do any of you have a pollen or tree allergy?”

The students exchange some deeply skeptical looks before confirming that no, none of them have allergies.

“Great. I'll explain once everyone’s together,” Yoshi says, nodding towards the torii gates. The Kyoto group is approaching.

Isn’t Gojo supposed to bring the pink-haired kid here? Maybe he decided against it. Yoshi didn’t fully understand the whole situation with the curse-vessel kid. He was Nanami’s student, except Nanami isn’t a teacher, and the jujutsu council wants to execute the kid, so he’s in hiding.

Gojo mentioned the kid when he visited her yesterday, but he also spent a large portion of their time ranting about stir fry ingredients.

“Ugh,” Maki sneers, making eye contact with another green-haired girl that looks remarkably—What the fuck, Maki has a twin?

“Ara, ara,” Maki’s sister smirks, “It’s everyone from Tokyo all together… Disgusting.”

Compared to Maki, this girl’s voice is much smoother and softer. She sounds a bit like Naoya.

There are six Kyoto students. Two boys, three girls, and a robotic, human-shaped student that might also be male. One of the girls has bright blue hair, and the third girl is tiny. The other two boys are—

“You,” one of the boys growls, furious black eyes fixated on Yoshi. “We meet again, Ariyoshi Reina!”

Yoshi squints at him. Again?

He’s the largest of the group, and perhaps the oldest as well. There’s a scar over one of his eyes, and he isn’t wearing anything beneath his uniform jacket. And she has no idea why he’s mad, or why he even knows her full name.

“Eh? Reina?” Nobara blurts out, shocked. “Sensei, is that your given name?”

“Okaka…”

Yoshi can’t help but grimace. Her name is Yoshi and just Yoshi. “No one calls me that,” she mutters.

“You don’t even know your teacher’s name?” Maki’s sister looks amused. “Don’t you know anything about the sort of folk your school hires?”

Nobara’s quick temper boils over instantly. “What did you just—?!”

Yoshi pulls Nobara back before she can get too heated. “Actually, it’s just Yoshi,” she corrects the Kyoto boy, gently squeezing Nobara’s shoulder. “‘Sensei’ also works.”

“Very well, Yoshi,” he says again, so worked up that she can see the veins throbbing in his neck and along his temple. “Do you have any idea of what you’ve done to me?!”

“No,” Yoshi answers, plain and true. “What’s the problem?”

His face flushes red with fury. “You… You made me miss Takada-chan’s meet-and-greet!”

Yoshi tries. She really does. But no matter how much she tries to remember—“I don’t know who Takada is,” she confesses, apologetic.

He looks ready to either faint or beat her to a pulp. “SHE’S MY FUTURE WIFE—!”

He stops himself short as someone claps loudly, and his classmates hiss a few quiet words at him.

“Alright, everyone. No fighting amongst yourselves,” a tired woman announces, climbing up the steps behind the Kyoto students. She’s a bit shorter than Yoshi, dressed in formalwear—a miko outfit?—and has a large scar across her face.

She is definitely Shoko’s friend.

“My goodness, you children…” the Kyoto teacher sighs. But then her gaze finds Yoshi. “You must be the new hire,” she comments, striding over to Yoshi. “Ariyoshi-san?”

“It’s just Yoshi,” she corrects the sorcerer, shaking her hand when it’s offered to her. “Nice to meet you.”

“Iori Utahime,” she introduces herself brusquely. Iori, Iori, Iori. Shoko will be sad if I don’t get along with Iori. “Nice to meet you too. Hopefully, none of my students will cause you any more trouble.”

…Any more trouble? Is she talking about the tall kid?

Schooling her expression into a blank one, Yoshi tries not to look completely clueless. It’s bad enough that she feels totally underdressed wearing track pants and a threadbare jacket next to Iori’s crisp, clean traditional clothes.

“I hope so too, Iori-san,” Yoshi replies vaguely, bowing her head a little.

“Of course. Now, where’s that idiot?” Iori asks, suddenly looking disgruntled.

“Late,” Yoshi admits, but she can feel her missing talisman nearby, so—“He’ll be here any minute.”

“That idiot is never on time to anything,” Maki adds. She looks pissed off, but that might have more to do with the banter going on between the Kyoto students than Gojo. They seem to be gossiping.

“Yoshi-sensei, I have a question for you,” the big Kyoto student declares abruptly, shoving aside his robot classmate. “You dodged it last time!”

She takes another look at him. Very tall, hair tied up in a bun. Scar over his eye.

I have no idea who this guy is.

“Sure…” Yoshi stalls, “But first, remind me what your name is?”

“Todo Aoi, third-year student, grade one sorcerer!” he barks out at once. Yoshi didn’t want to know all that, but at least he isn’t offended by the question. “Now, Sensei, what’s your type?”

“Tch,” Iori steps in. “I’ve told you already, Todo-kun, as long as I’m your teacher, you may not use that as an excuse to fight any sorcerer you meet!”

“My type of what?” Yoshi wonders at the same time.

“Your ideal type of man!” Todo clarifies, though he looks cagey now that his teacher is glaring at him. “I won’t fight you here, but don’t you disappoint me too!”

“Todo!” Iori snaps. “Stop it, right now.”

Todo’s mouth clamps shut. But he continues to stare down Yoshi with intense black eyes, clearly expecting an answer.

Well. She does recognize Todo now, a bit. Specifically, she remembers her brief vow, fulfilled within minutes of saying it: if you attack me again, I’ll send you back to Kyoto.

Yoshi drinks more coffee, not sure what to make of any of this.

Todo grumbles, frustrated. “Do you have an answer or not?”

“Well…” Yoshi reflects on the question, and also the high school student that’s asking it. She can’t give a very detailed reply to something like that in front of all these kids, that would be awkward. There’s a line somewhere in there about propriety and whatnot. But then again, Yoshi doesn’t mind being open with them; like at her spa night with the girls, it’s good to know that your teachers are human too.

“I like athletes,” Yoshi settles on. “Someone who can really compete with me, like Ohtani.”

“…Ohtani?” Todo repeats blankly.

“Ohtani?” Iori gasps, excited.

“Yeah,” Yoshi confirms, turning her assessing gaze onto her fellow teacher. “You know who I mean?”

“Of course I do!”

“Oi, oi,” Nobara interrupts, head whipping between Iori and Yoshi. “Who the hell’re you talking about? What is he, a K-pop star? I’ve never heard of him!”

A smile stretches across Iori’s face. “Ohtani is a baseball player,” she explains to Nobara (and to all of the other students pretending they aren’t invested in this conversation). “He signed on to play in America last year, it was a huge deal for such a young player!”

“He’s a pitcher,” Yoshi adds frankly. “Has one of the fastest pitches in NPB history.”

Suddenly all of Yoshi’s students seem to deflate. “You nerd,” Nobara bemoans. “That’s such a Yoshi thing to say… he better be hot, at least!”

Maki rolls her eyes. “And a pitcher? Ugh.” She seems to be remembering the last training session she had with Yoshi, in which Yoshi tagged her no less than twenty times with her pitches.

“Yoshi-sensei,” Todo rumbles again, drawing her attention. He’s not looking at her, but scrutinizing the screen of his smartphone and rubbing his chin. “If this is your type…”

He isn’t the only one looking at his phone now. Toge and Megumi are crowding over a shared smartphone, and the Kyoto girls are peeking at Todo’s phone too.

“I’ve decided, Yoshi-sensei… that you might be worth my respect,” Todo concludes in his loud, gruff tone. He nods to himself. “It’s a pity you don’t know of Takada-chan’s excellence, but you’re an interesting woman!”

A ripple of shock seems to move through the Kyoto group. Todo just offers a wide, toothy grin. “Thanks,” Yoshi answers, baffled. It’s nice that the tall kid seems to like her, but now all of his classmates look wary.

Iori just rolls her eyes. “Honestly, kids are so dramatic…” She pauses, hearing the sound of squeaky, heavy wheels approaching. “What…?”

“Gojo,” Yoshi answers, not even bothering to look.

Iori mutters under her breath just as Gojo appears down the walkway, pushing a large trunk on wheels.

“Sorry for the wait, but Gojo Satoru has finally arrived!” he sing-shouts to them, beaming with excitement. He jerks the cart into an abrupt stop in front of them. “Ah, I see everyone’s together. I was on a business trip overseas—I will now hand out souvenirs!”

“None for you, Utahime!” he declares once he gets to Iori.

The Kyoto teacher is already pissed off. “I don’t need one!”

He moves on, fully ignoring Iori’s glares. “Yoshi-sensei, good morning! Thanks for not spoiling my surprise,” he says as he passes her.

Yoshi, about to ignore him in favor of her coffee, hesitates. “What?”

Gojo strides back to his weird metal cart without answering. “Aaand for everyone from Tokyo, we have THIS!”

She doesn’t really have the words to describe the dramatic flourishing that Gojo acts out, but it does end with him pointing at the metal trunk and sticking his leg up very high, like a ballerina. Now really isn’t the time or place for it, but Yoshi’s impressed by his flexibility.

Nobara mutters something unflattering about the white-haired sorcerer.

And then things get even worse, because then the pink-haired kid pops out of the box, and it occurs to Yoshi that the rest of the students already know the curse-vessel kid—and they look horrified to see him here.

“It’s your dead friend, Itadori Yuji!” Gojo announces, just as Yaga and a very old man appear at the gates.

For all the chatter that Gojo likes to throw at Yoshi, he sure has a knack for omitting the important details. Did he fake Yuji’s death? I would’ve remembered that, right?

As Yoshi questions her memory for the millionth time today, Gojo strolls back up to her and ducks his head to her ear. “You should show a little skin for Principal Gakuganji. Maybe he’ll finally have a heart attack.”

“Ew,” she hisses, emphatically zipping her jacket all the way up.

“That was a compliment!” Gojo insists as he drifts towards the principals, waving a thermos. “Show off a little, Sensei!”

Yoshi’s hands are empty. He took her coffee.

“Yoshi-sensei,” Megumi calls to her abruptly, scowling more than usual. “Did you know Itadori was alive? This whole time?”

She pauses. “Have you ever heard of the Fifth Amendment of the US Constitution?”

“Hahaha!” Yuji’s the only one to laugh. Nobara has tears in her eyes, but she looks too furious to actually cry. “It’s not her fault, I was doing secret training with Nanamin! He kept Yoshi-sensei out of the loop,” he explains.

Yoshi resists the urge to look at the principals. “I’m still out of the loop,” she mutters.

From behind them, Gojo begins to gag dramatically. “Blegh!” He rears back in revulsion, tongue hanging out of his mouth. “Why are you drinking black coffee? Who hurt you?”

Her nose crinkles up in disgust. “You drank it?”

What a fucking weirdo. She doesn’t think the idea of an indirect kiss is cute in any shape or form. Gojo thinks it’s funny to lick the ground, so who knows where his mouth has been?

Gojo mimics her expression, as though he has any right to be revolted. “No, I just smelled it. I don’t know where your mouth has been.”

—/—/—/—

[Previous] [Next]

A/N: thank you to @nadiecomoyo for beta reading!! Miko - a Shinto shrine maiden Shohei Ohtani is real baseball player. His teammates on the LA Angels call him 'Shotime'. He played in Japan's pro league (NPB). He signed on in 2017, and now in 2021, he's absolutely killing it in the MLB. He is also listed at 193cm and 95kg in case you were wondering.

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maemi324 · 4 years ago

Text

The Love of The Mob Boss

hello there friends! here I am part two of the Mafia story. Well it’s a prequel. I wouldn’t have thought to make one if it wasn’t for @dorki-c so thank you! Also! I have @combat-wombatus and @lucyheartfilias-wife for taking a look at this story and editing! You can read part one here: mafia

Warnings: Kidnapping, gun violence, minor character death? i think that’s all. if anyone see’s that there needs to be another warning, please let me know and I’ll add it to the tag list.

@butterscotchbaku and @in-this-house-we-stan-izuku I hope you like part two! Enjoy!

X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.X.

Today was just like any other day. The 3pm sun was shimmering without a cloud to be seen in the sky.

You eyed your nails, hardly paying attention to the rhythmic pounding of the dryer as you perched on the washing machine. You’d left your washing until the last minute, not having much of a will to do it earlier in the week. Thankfully, this was the last load. You smiled, faintly pleased; all before mom came home too. You glanced up from your nails to the open door that lead into the garage, summer air gently rustling your skirt.

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway caught your attention, hopping off of the machine.

It was a bit early for your mom to be home, but you didn’t think much of it. Maybe today was just well executed productivity for the both of you.

The dryer slowed to a stop, as you grabbed your basket to fill up, footsteps approaching from behind you.

“Hey mom! You’re home a bit early!” you called, fingers flying to your lips as some static from one of your socks zaps you rather harshly.

“Sorry to disappointed,” a deep voice called, “ But it’s not your mom” “Oh, hey.”

A strange sort of disappointment flooded you; it was only your dad. He was hardly in the picture while you were growing up, though managed to stick around like some fungus even after the divorce. He usually only came over to beg your mother for some cash, just a little to get gas even, the rest was going towards rent.

You never really stuck around long enough to see the result of whether mom did or didn’t give into him, finding more interesting topics in your books or literally anything else.

You closed the dryer with a bump of your hip, adjusting the laundry pile so it was equally distributed within the basket.

“Don’t worry, I’m not here for the usual. Though I do need some help. Could you come shine a light? I think there’s something wrong with my car. I figured I’d stop here rather than on the road”

You sighed, but set down the basket, so much for getting all the folding done, “Yeah sure, I’ll be right there” You walk into the garage, spotting your father, dressed casually with his hands in his pockets. He had dark circles underneath his eyes and (H/C) stubble that seemed to be growing out.

He gives you an awkward smile that you pay no heed to, walking towards one of the shelves where you kept a few extra flashlights, just in case.

That was your mistake.

Calloused hands grab your arms, shifting to hold them with one hand as he drags you to the car.

“Wait- what the hell?! What are you doing- Let go of me!” Your heart was pounding in your chest, blood rushing through your ears, everything was far too loud and yet so muffled and clear. You struggled against him, kicking back against his shin, but it only gave him a better grasp on you as his left arm grabbed you around your waist, his right fiddling with some old rope he found on the ground.

“Shh, stop fighting- Stop! This will all be so much easier if you just hold still!” he wasn’t making any sense, what would be so much easier?! You didn’t care, you didn’t want anything to do with him and whatever sick joke he was playing.

“Mom! Someone! Anyone! Help me!” you shouted in vain, the rough material of the rope burning as he pulled tight around your wrists, tossing you into the passenger side of the car, buckling you in.

“Dad, please, what are you doing?!” tears blurred your vision, fear clogging your judgement. You wriggled in your seat as he closed the car door. Getting in on his side, he buckled and backed out.

That’s how you found yourself standing in front of a warehouse somewhere downtown a few hours later. The jab of a gun in your back reminds you to keep quiet, your fathers free hand opening the warehouse door just big enough to get you inside.

It’s dark inside, except for the sunlight that enters through the various windows scattered about. Aside from a few various, but large, rows of crates, boxes and a stack of fold out chairs, the warehouse is empty.

A whine tears itself from your fear clogged throat, your palms becoming more clammy in the cool air. The five snaps of the fold out chairs being set up had you wincing at each sound.

Your father gestures towards a chair with the gun, another involuntary whine escaping. You sit down in the one furthest from him, though with the gun in his hand it hardly matters.

“Now you just take it easy,” he says, settling into one of the other chairs, “You’re gonna help your old man with something. Gonna be over before you know it alright? I promise. Just sit here and let Daddy do all the talking alright sweetie?”

Anger settled over you, arms tense as it flows through your veins; no it wasn’t alright at all! This was insane, something that would happen in a bad dream! This had to be a bad dream.

The waiver in his hand, the gun still aimed directly at you, had your dreams crushed as reality continued to play out. You could only watch him, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“You can be as mad at me as ya like, I deserve it, and you can chew me out about it once it’s done. I promise”

Another empty promise, just like all the promises to stop gambling, like all the times he promised to stop spending so much money on...whatever it was. All lies

The door to the entrance creaked loud enough to send ice down your veins, your heart beating in a tizzy as three forms entered the room. All three were dressed nicely, suits you come to notice, as they approach. Your father quickly put the gun down, putting it away and out of sight.

The first one had a dark blue tie, pristine and perfect, taking an easy seat in front of you and your father. He took out a cigar, holding it out for the other man- red tie- to light it for him. The last to take a seat was a man with a white tie, broad shoulders set in perfect posture.

Your father bowed his head, though you kept your eyes trained on blue tie.

Smoke spills from the man's lips as he pulls them into a slightly amused grin. “So (L/N), here we meet again. So nice to see you” his grin doesn’t meet his eyes, sarcasm laced in smoke.

“A-and y-you as well, Sir” your father pathetically stammers out, raising his head again.

“Could I hope to think that you have what you owe?” he takes a deep drag, blowing the putrid smoke towards you. You scrunch up your nose in disgust.

“N-no sir, h-however, I have a proposition for you, if you’ll please hear me out” he quickly gets up from his chair, the henchmen watching his move like hawks. He places an unwanted hand on your shoulder.

“I’m offering you my daughter, just until I can pay you back, which will be soon. You can do whatever you want, just upon my last payment, she comes back home with me, unharmed” His eyes were wide, smile stretched wide enough to hurt.

“What?!” You whirl around towards your father as best as you could, shock settling over your form. Whatever they wanted?! That wasn’t for him to offer!

Blue tied man stood up, walking over towards you. The hand on your shoulder slipped off, though its weight almost increased in its absence. A warm finger slipped it’s way under your chin, tilting your tear stained face up towards him.

His eyes were cold, though filled with a pleased tint that turned your stomach.

More tears leaked down your cheeks and he cooed, thumb swiping over it. As he pulled his hand away from you he licked his thumb.

“I think we can work with that”

Your tears fell faster now, as hiccups left you, how could this be happening. The hand returned to your shoulder, “Don’t worry sweetie, you’ll be just fine. It’ll all be just fine, thank you so much sir-”

Bang!

The sound echoed throughout the room, sunset light blocked by three shadows.

In walked in a young man not much older than yourself, bright green eyes, and matching hair, steeled with determination, gun in his hand. He was dressed in a black vest, green long sleeved shirt rolled up to his elbows and dark pants.

The second shadow belonged to a man with blonde hair and mean red eyes, a snarl on his lip as his gun aimed towards the red tied man.

The last belonged to a man with red and white hair, parted perfectly down the middle, the red side having a bright blue eye, the white having a brown one. His gun was aimed towards the white.

The blue tied man seemed surprised, blowing out another puff of smoke. He steps back from you, offering his most charming smile, “Ah, Deku and Friends. So sorry this warehouse is occupied. I’m afraid whatever business you have here is either not here, or should be dealt with elsewhere. I’m afraid You’ve caught me right in the middle of business.”

What? That couldn’t be right...The Deku? Japan’s highest ranking mafia leader? Direct descendant of All Might?! What on Earth could he want? What sort of messed up deal did your father make?!

The other colored ties stood up from their positions, guns aimed at the newcomers. The green eyed one- Deku- stepped forward, gun held carefully in his hand.

“Actually, my business is with you, actually, with this lady here,” he stated, “She’ll be coming back with me to her mother.” His statement left no room for argument, no room for misinterpretation.

“Mom?” You turned towards them further, hope igniting in your chest for the first time in what felt like hours. He nods at you, a smile that reaches his eyes.

“Just right outside,” he reassures.

“With you?” Blue tie asks, eyes wide, “ What audacity you have Deku. Even amongst our kind, business doesn’t work this way-”

Bang!

With a shriek you turn your eyes away, scrunching them shut, the thud of the red tied man echoing over and over and over-

It all turns into gunshots, two more you recognize, but it feels as though they keep going, your eardrums ringing. There are hands suddenly at your shoulders, gentle and soft. You recognize them as others take off the rope at your wrists.

You hesitantly open your eyes, immediately throwing yourself forward into your mothers arms. You sob, deep within your chest as she carefully wraps her arms around you, her whispers barely sounding through the groans of pain echoing throughout the room.

“It’s alright now, honey. It’s alright, I’m here now” She says, her own eyes watery. She pets your hair carefully, glancing up as a slightly scarred hand is placed gently on your mothers shoulder.

Looking up, your eyes catch your hero, Deku.

“Dynamite, will you handle the rest of this? I’m going to escort Mrs.(L/N) and (Y/N) back,” He says, though whatever answer this Dynamite has is lost on you, your focus fading in and out.

Deku beckoned the way forward with a gesture of his arm, a gentle insistence to get moving. You blinked and suddenly you were sitting in a car, buckled in next to your mother, your knuckles turning white with how hard you gripped. She made no expression of pain, only gripping your hand just as tight.

You blink again and you appear to be in a room, sitting on a soft, dull, mint green couch. The room itself is unimpressive, looking to be more like an office break room than anything, walls a soft cream color, the floors- although soft- an unimpressive soft blue. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a fridge and some counter space that had a rather large kettle and two boxes of various packets.

Down on one knee is this Deku, eyes carefully scanning over you as his mouth moves, saying words that you’re slowly being able to process again.

“...Think she’s coming back, (Y/N)? (Y/N), can you hear me? You don’t have to say anything, just nod if you can hear me” his voice is so soft, though solid, not even a waiver to it. It’s so nice to listen to, you find yourself nodding. The smile that you are rewarded with fills your stomach with a comforting warmth.

He adjusts so he’s sitting on the coffee table, offering you a cup of what smells like warm tea.

“Careful, it’s a bit hot. Also a little on the sweet side, though sweet is good for shock, or so I hear,” he rambled, eyes widening as he nearly spilt the drink in his animated gestures.

You outstretched your slightly shaking hands, only vaguely recognizing that there was a soft cream blanket draped over your shoulders. You carefully take the cup, Deku only letting go once he’s sure you had a good hold of it. A sip has warmth you didn’t know you were missing flood through your system, the sweet taste bringing back some awareness.

He lets you take a moment to sit back and process everything that just happened, he and your mother sipping on their own cups of tea. The shaking decreased as you sipped your tea, though you had an inkling it would be a while longer until it was completely gone. You could still feel yourself fading in and out of focus, though now, it was more like a daydream, rather than being in a completely different place at each second.

“You must have quite a few questions for me?”

“A few to say the least,” you tried a hand at humor, though it fell sort of flat, you appreciated his soft laugh. “Let’s start at the beginning, how did the two of you know where to find me?”

“I knew something had gone wrong the second i got home,” Your mother set down her now half empty cup of tea, “I found it odd that the garage door was open, clothes on the dryer, but not a single sign of you, even when I called. My worry only got worse as I found this,” she pulled a worn wallet out of her pocket, “It’s your fathers, the bastard must have dropped it. It’s a good thing he did though, it let me know he’d been there. It wasn’t much but it was something.”

You narrowed your eyes at the offending item, as if you could set it ablaze with sight alone.

“And...where do you come in? The media might not know your face, but your title reaches far.”

“I can answer that too; I actually used to be a part of this group, back in the day. Though that was when All Might was still running the show. Even though I retired from this life after having you, I remained in touch, checking in every now and again. I knew that Deku could help me find you, he has eyes across the entire city.”

This was so much to wrap your head around, first your father was in some dealings with this gang- the Ties you’d decided to call them- decided to try and use you to pay off the rest of his debt, but now your mom was once a part of the gang that rescued you? Was the room spinning or was it just you?

“Whoa there!” a steady hand went to your shoulder, the other gently wrapped around the hands that held your cup. Concerned green eyes meet yours. Gently, he raises your cup to your lips, your hands still firmly wrapped around the cup. "Here, maybe take another sip of this, slowly.”

You follow his instruction, taking a deep breath, exhaling through your nose, you take a slow sip. You try and focus on the taste of the honey sweetening your tea. Instead of syrup of golden hue, your mind is trained into a lake of turquoise and teal, green bouncing off rays of light.

At your reassuring nod, he let go of your shoulder and hands. You bow your head forward, “In any event, thank you for coming to my rescue. I’m not sure how to repay you-” he holds up a hand, fear spiking your heart...oh no, was he going to do something similar like The Ties? Just up to his standards?

“No need to thank me, it wasn’t any trouble. However, we do need to talk about what happens from here. If this were any other gang, I’d say that we would escort you home and you could go on your merry way. But this isn’t just any other gang, they’re called The Royal Devils.” Huh, that was definitely a more intimidating name than The Ties for sure, “They have a way of doing business that we don’t exactly agree with here. They’re a mean bunch, and they won't like the fact that we’ve interrupted a deal, especially one to collect on a debt. Which means that they’ll be looking for not just my gang, but you too”

It was a bitter pill to swallow, a pill that rattled with dried fear and misplaced resentment. Your emotions felt like a toddler who had just had enough, the ones who screamed in the stores because everything was just too much. But you kept your cool as best as you could, screaming and crying wouldn’t help the situation.

“So...What do we do then? It’s not like we can just crash somewhere else?” No hotel or motel could keep you safe enough, as well as both of the two being too expensive to stay extensively.

“Well, I have a few ideas, a few options if you will. You see, I’ve been working to take down The Royal Devils, and we’re really close to doing so with the intel we have. Now that we’ve caught their attention directly, it’ll be a bit harder, like i said, they’ll be coming for us.” As he spoke, Deku’s hand gestures became quicker, more animated, his gaze looking far away as he focused.

“So the first option is to have the two of you go home..but have some of my gang keep watch over your every move, just in case the Devils decide to strike there. It would be more comfortable for you to be in a familiar place, however, It paints a bigger target and leaves some of my guys out of where I need them. I’m not just putting any old schmuck to guard you. Your second option is to stay here, at least until I run the Devils into their graves. You’d be safer here and the target remains relatively small, no one knows the location of this specific base. The choice is yours.”

You hadn’t considered the thought of staying, but if it really was the safest option- as much as you would have liked to go home…

You looked over to your mother, you could tell what her choice was.

“We’ll stay here then, just until this matter is solved.”

And so he set you and your mother up in some makeshift rooms provided by this tall young woman named Yaomomo- or that’s what Deku called her. You were given the option to have a shared room, but ultimately decided that having personal space would be good. The first night there however, your mother cuddled underneath her sheets, holding you so close you almost couldn’t breathe. You hardly minded, preferring the safety her hold brought to you.

In the days following you learned that your father had died, though at whose hands, you weren’t sure you wanted to know-wanted to care even. Half of you wanted to be sad, he was your father and apart from the kidnapping, he’d never hurt you, not even once.

The other half of you found contentment in your rage being satisfied, justified. He’d taken you from your home and tried to use you for his own gain- he didn’t even talk to you about it! Not that you would have said yes in the first place.

You would have found a different way, maybe once your mother knew how desperate your father was, she would have helped him. That’s what you thought anyhow, a frown etched on your face as you stirred your tea.

The door behind you swings open, Deku entering into the room, despite his tall stature, he seemed hunched, his energy quiet. “I heard about what happened to your dad...How are you feeling?”

You’re surprised that he even cared to ask, and you told him as such, as well as your actual feelings. He was incredibly understanding.

“It’s okay to feel what you're feeling, you’ve been through quite a bit. It’ll take a bit for your emotions to figure out how to settle.” You only hum in affirmation, licking the honey off your spoon. The rest of your chat was filled with mindless things, whatever you had watched on T.V. books you read; he actually gave you some of his favorites-which were wonderful to read.

Surprisingly over the next two months, your emotions seemed to settle on their own. Your mother didn’t have to cuddle you at night, your own fear of someone coming to take you dwindling by the day.

Or so you thought.

It was the start of the third month into your stay, rain pouring down and thunder rumbling through the sky. As comfortable as Deku tried to make you, it was starting to wear down on you. You couldn’t leave the base, not when they were so close to pinpointing the main base of the Devils operations, not while the closer Deku got the more frantic the Devils became. You groan in sheer boredom, the knots in your back protesting as you lean on your fists.

But even in your boredom, your feelings had become more than just gratitude towards Deku. Aside from the gifts of books, he also spent time with you, underneath the professional exterior, Deku was honestly the sweetest goof you’d met. He often ran away with his thoughts, hands becoming so animated you often had to duck- but he was just so cute when he was excited-

Since when had you fallen so hard?

As if he had an alarm for your discomfort, there was Deku, walking into the break room, which was unofficially your space to meet and chat. As far as you knew, no one else besides the two of you ever came in.

“Rough night?” He asked, you only laughed in response, followed by another groan. He closed the door behind him, sitting beside you. “Tell me what’s on your mind?”

“Oh,” you sigh, your shoulder touching his, “Just this entire situation. I mean, you haven’t done anything wrong, it’s just, for three months now I’ve only been here, at the base. And it’s starting to feel a little…”

“You’re starting to feel a little trapped?”

“Yes,” you cover your face with your hands, “I just want to be able to go outside, to go out and hang out with my other friends, to see something besides these walls. I don’t want to appear ungrateful-”

“Oh hardly, It makes sense,” he places a hand in the middle of your back, rubbing firmly, but carefully, working the knots there, “I think I’d go a little stir crazy too. But I promise, we’ll be done soon. We’re in need of just one more piece of the puzzle, then we’ll be ready to go. You can talk to me about anything you know, even this. I wouldn’t be surprised if you resented me a bit for keeping you ‘locked up’ as it were.”

“Nah,” you say softly, glancing up at him, “Mom and I made our choice, we knew it’d take a while. We’re just dealing with it as we go.” He was such a pretty image, cool light coming in from the streetlamp illuminating his features in a soft glow. Your eyes lingered over his lips a bit longer than you mean to. “Thank you for the offer, I’ll keep that in mind”

You lean forward, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, lips barely brushing. His brows shot up, surprised. Just as you began to pull a bit back, he took a chance, his lips brushing over yours ever so softly. Your heart lit up in glee; you lean forward more, your kiss no longer so soft and light.

He groans, his right hand moving to cup your jaw, the other at the small of your back, pulling your chests together until they were flush. He somehow slips his tongue in, your answering moan being swallowed by him as your hands run through his hair. Your tongues danced together, as if mapping every crevice to commit the appendage to memory.

Reluctantly, he pulls away, his freckles drowned by the pink blush on his cheeks, lips slightly damp. He presses a kiss to your lips, to your cheek and jaw, moving down towards your neck, licking at a particular spot that had your breath hitched. He nibbled softly before outright biting the area, a move that had your stomach doing flips that left a syrupy warm trail and a giggle escaping your lips.

As his nibbles and suckles became more intense, your grip on his hair tightened, your whimpers music to his ears. With one last suck he pulled away completely, taking in your image. You were now laying down on the couch with him above you, hair all mussed up and lips flushed a pretty damp color.

He went down for another kiss, letting his weight rest on you slightly. As heavy as he was, it felt comforting to you, you could feel the beginnings of something stirring below.

A knock at the door had jumped you out of your mood, like jumping into a pool of ice water.

“Deku? We have some more info to relay to you”

You didn’t care to identify the voice, your disappointment evident on your face. He pressed a sweeter kiss to your lips before slowly backing off of you.

“I’m sorry, I...I should probably-”

You couldn’t be upset with him, not really. Not when he seemed just as disappointed as you. “No, it’s alright, it could be really important. We’ll talk later, yeah?” “Yeah, Definitely.”

He stood up, giving you one more soft look, before exiting the room, closing the door behind him.

As much as the two of you had intended to talk the next day, it turned out that bit of information was incredibly important. For the next few days, the base had been buzzing like a bee hive, everyone working together to create the perfect plan of infiltration.

You were so...You had thought that You’d be happy for the news, but now you were mixed. If Deku succeeded, then you had no more reason to stay, you were free to go home, to go out with friends. But it also meant that you wouldn’t be seeing Deku again. At that realization, your heart had grown heavy like stone and sunk to your stomach.

Instead of waiting until after the take down, you asked to meet with him before he left, in the same spot you had been meeting.

You’d made two cups of tea, his just how he liked it. You nervously held onto the cup, staring into the liquid as if it had all the answers.

Not a moment later and in walked Deku, the door closing behind him. He seemed wired, energy radiating off of him as if it had nowhere else to go. But still, he kept quiet as he sat down next to you.

It was awkward, actually the first time you’d ever felt awkward around him. What were you supposed to say? ‘Hey, please don’t go after those people so we can be together, if we’re gonna be together at all?’

“Y-you know, I thought you’d be a bit more excited for today.” He broke the ice, melting it with a sip of his hot tea.

“I did too... but then...I won’t beat around the bush, I like you, quite a bit Deku, and I really liked that we kissed. I’d like to do it again. But...when you win, we won't be able to see each other again. I really want to see you again.” Your neutral expression turned into a frown.

Deku was quiet for only a few moments, you let the silence lay still- let him process what you’d just said.

“I really want to see you again, too. To properly ask you out. We don’t have to stop seeing one another just because you’re leaving the base. It just means that...there will be some conditions, to keep you safe. Like being escorted home by either me or another trusted member, at least when it comes to coming to see me.”

“I can live with that,” you swear, taking his hand in yours, “ anything to see you again Deku”

He cups your jaw, bringing your foreheads to touch, “ You are just so sweet, Doll. There’s just one more thing”

“What is it?” “When we’re alone, call me Izuku. It’s only fair you know my real name.”

“Izuku,” you taste the name on your tongue, the smooth way it leaves your lips brings a satisfied smile to your face, “I like it” “And I like hearing you say it” he presses a quick kiss to your lips, “ I’ll be back soon, don’t you worry”

It takes almost all day, but Deku wins, the last member of The Royal Devils was killed at midnight on the dot. All of their territory was now for Deku to fill. He comes home to you bloodied and bruised but alive.

After a few months, the two of you were going quite steady, having weekly date nights, going out on the town and having the time of your lives. But it wasn’t enough, you missed being able to see him as soon as you woke up.

Your mother thought you were moving a bit fast, but you couldn’t help it. You loved him, and he loved you just as much. You’d decided to move in with him.

So far you were going on two years strong, as you found yourself sat on his lap, your temple pressed against his neck as you listened to his voice rumble on towards the other members. You were hardly paying attention, far too busy reminiscing about how you ended up here.

#maemiwritesBNHA #midoriya izuku #izuku midoriya x reader #villain deku #katsuki bakugou #todoroki shouto #momo yaoyorozu #bnha #mha #bnha reader #bnha all might

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bookwyrminspiration · 4 years ago

Text

Shattered Upside Down

A kotlc wings au: masterpost here

summary: Everything seems like it’s going to be okay, but they’re definitely not okay.

Chapter 2: The Shift

Word Count: 7.8k

warnings: Mentions of pulling/scratching at skin in response to unwanted physical sensations. Mental spiraling/being overwhelmed. A few medical scenes, but nothing very different than what’s in the books. And as always, swearing.

taglist: listed at the end beneath the cut, but let me know if you want to be added or removed!

Definitely curious to see what you all think, ngl...

ao3 link here

or read beneath the cut

Every single cell in their body was alive--and dying. Each one was burning, shredding itself, unmaking itself and throwing the pieces back together. Their heartbeats were a fraction too quick, each pulse of life a fraction too strong. Each inhale coated their throat in acid and singed its way through their lungs. There was no light. There was no sound. But it hurt hurt hurt so loud, so bright.

The very essence of their mind had been bruised and battered and it was fighting with everything it had but there was nothing to fight. Except itself.

Consciousness was a whirlwind of ups and downs and upside-downs and each time they tried to reach it they were thrown back. Back where? They weren’t anywhere. They were their cells, each amalgamation of their parts could be seen in the way their mind had melted into their inner being.

They could not be separated.

Not yet.

Wait.

The pain was palpable now. It was not the soothing, unending, comforting, searing pain as they watched their mind tear itself apart.

This was real.

This was pinpricks and needles and smoke and ash and scratches and bruises and blood.

Wait--

Sophie couldn’t breathe over the sound of the footsteps passing by in the halls. Eyes open, she couldn’t see, everything hazy blotches of light and dark and color. Then it wasn’t.

Strange. She must’ve blinked it away, not that she remembered blinking. Her consciousness was cotton and her brain was fuzz, the edges of her vision still uncharacteristically undefined, but that wasn’t on the forefront of her mind.

Nothing was.

Noise registered vaguely in her mind, but she couldn’t discern the sounds from each other, voices and whispers overlapping each other like shuffling cards. Static coated everything, the ringing in her ears, the ceiling lights, the sharp flashes of color darting around her field of vision.

A hand passed in front of her face and her eyes trailed after it, but she couldn’t keep up, lagging a second behind.

Breathe.

She needed to breathe. In and out. Again. Again. She forced her lungs to find their rhythm, the pain grounding her and sharpening her mind. Her blood was magma rushing beneath her skin, but each forced exhale made it slightly more bearable.

She was awake.

The noises--voices, she knew now--had fizzled out, the anxiety palpable in the air, the room waiting with bated breath. The hand passed in front of her again, and this time her eyes followed. “She seems to be doing better,” someone murmured, and it took her a long second to realize that she was the person being discussed.

Her lips parted slightly as she turned her head, eyes sliding to the figure seated next to her, eyelids unnaturally heavy. Spots of color danced in her vision--the lights fixed to the ceiling had temporarily blinded her--and the room shuttered between blurred and clear for a few seconds before she blinked it away.

“How bad,” she rasped, and the figure--Elwin--jerked, eyes snapping to meet hers. Her voice had been barely audible, but it was far too loud in this taut silence.

Someone let loose a sigh, so thick and loaded and fraught with relief she nearly winced, and then fingers laced with hers--she hadn’t even been consciously aware she had hands--squeezing tight.

Edaline’s fingers flitted against the skin of her cheek, brushing stray hairs out of her face before pressing her palm to her cheek. Sophie leaned into the touch for a moment before looking back towards Elwin. He still hadn’t answered.

He cleared his throat as he readjusted his glasses, hair frazzled as though he’d run his fingers through it. “I must say, you all are definitely fighters.” His smile cracked at that, but he quickly regained composure and continued. “I’m not sure exactly what you were exposed to, but it did some nasty damage--which I can reverse,” he quickly added, not that she’d been worried. Elwin had performed miracles before, this time didn’t have any reason to be different.

Something about what he’d said caught her attention though. She mulled it over for a brief moment before it hit her.

You all.

Her friends.

Fuck.

Hissing through her teeth, she propped herself up on both elbows, Edaline adjusting the bedsheets around her. She still hadn’t said a word.

From her new position, she could see the entire room, the Healing Bubble--Keefe’s affectionate nickname for the space had stuck. Dwarves had a tendency to build rooms as though they were bubbles, pockets of air trapped beneath the dirt, never to rise. The Healing Bubble was rounded, cots spread around the room, other adjoined rooms serving as both storage and alchemy labs--a close recreation of the Healing Center back at Foxfire. Close. But not quite.

She blinked hard. This was not what she needed to be focusing on at the moment.

Because all around the room, her friends lay unconscious in the cots. Each of their faces pallid and expressionless, none of them moving, not even restless twitching.

Alden and Della were seated between Fitz and Biana, Juline and Kesler beside Dex, bodyguards stationed throughout the room near their charges, each of them looking at her. The relief was palpable on their faces; so then she looked alright she supposed, but she certainly didn’t feel it.

The movement--sitting up--had agitated the sludge in her veins, burning as it coursed through her. Something--probably pain--must’ve shown on her face, colored orbs beginning to flash, a frown pulling at Elwin’s features; she ignored the lights.

This time she cleared her throat before speaking. “What happened?” Still rougher than she would’ve liked, but it would do.

“You nearly got yourselves fucking killed, that’s what,” Ro answered. Sophie waited for further explanation, but none came.

Slightly irritated, she tried again. “I passed out for a while and I’d like to know what happened between the time I fainted until now. Perhaps someone could start with why we’re all back underground in the Healing Bubble--my memory seems to be missing a few spots.”

Silence.

“You kids certainly have a way with words.” Sophie’s head snapped towards the doorway, watching as Mr. Forkle walked up to her, stopping a ways away from her cot. Grady was behind him.

“Hey, kiddo,” he whispered, rushing forward and wrapping his arms tightly around her, holding her as though afraid he might break her. She must’ve looked rough, then. The thought dispelled her irritation for a moment, and all she could do was grip him tightly, only letting go when she heard Mr. Forkle shifting his weight as he waited.

Turning her attention towards him, she tried not to fiddle with her bedsheets.

“What happened,” she asked again, Mr. Forkle opening his mouth to answer when another, darker voice cut him off.

“The fuck is going on.” Tam had propped himself up on his elbows, face pallid as he swayed slightly. Sophie’s shoulder’s dropped a fraction, the pressure of being the only one awake fading now that Tam was conscious with her. Which was...strange. She didn’t want to think about that right now.

Elwin was hovering over him, flashing lights around him but saying nothing, knowing they were both more interested in whatever the hell Forkle was about to say.

��Mr. Tam,” he began, seeming unperturbed by the interruption. “As I was about to explain to Ms. Foster, I think it would be best if we waited for this discussion until all of you are...capable of having it.”

“The fuck does that mean,” Tam deadpanned, words slightly slurred. Honestly, she would’ve laughed had she not been so irritated at the moment.

“It means,” she grumbled, crossing her arms, “that he’s not going to tell us because we’re the only ones awake right now.” She glanced at him for confirmation, and he nodded just once, but it was enough. A haze of anger started to cloud her mind, but she wound it into the knot in her chest with a sigh, wincing.

“Well, that’s bullshit.”

She agreed and said as much, but Mr. Forkle seemed to have been expecting this response, still entirely composed, although if she didn’t know better she could’ve sworn there was a flicker of hesitation in his expression.

There were so many people in this one room, the sounds of their breathing filling the moment of silence in a way that made her ears itch, raking claws down the column of her spine until she could no longer contain the shiver that coursed through her. Edaline squeezed her arm once, rearranging the blankets as Sophie shook off the daze.

“Are you really going to make us wait? Seriously?” Disdain dripped from her voice, disappointment pooling around her fingers as her mouth tightened, glaring at him.

“If you don’t tell them, I will,” Ro announced, examining her nails and pointedly not looking at him.

He sighed, rubbing thoughtfully at his chin for a moment before glancing around, reading the room. “While I would prefer you didn’t, I don’t think it will be necessary. It appears we won’t be waiting for the rest of you kids very long.” He gestured towards where Biana was laying, hands held in front of her as she vanished spastically in and out of view, blinking ever so slowly, head bobbing slightly as her fingers fluttered rhythmically in the air.

Sophie’s heart beat erratically for a moment, another stitch of reassurance mending her frazzled consciousness together. Tam had woken, so had Biana. Everyone would be okay. Everyone would wake up and be perfectly fine--if a little bruised--and they could regroup. This was just a minor setback.

She’d been hurt worse and come back from it, this wouldn’t be any exception. This wasn’t even that bad--just some aches and pains. This was minor.

She reminded herself of this over and over, and it became easier when a muffled groan came from Fitz’s bed as he propped himself up, as the temperature rose a degree with Marella, as the sweat danced up their backs as Linh rose, as the lights flickered for a moment with Wylie, as Dex mumbled spastically beneath his breath--completely indecipherable, but that wasn’t the point--as solid transparency coated Maruca’s fingers, and as that familiar green wave rolled through the room, Keefe the last of them to wake.

It took no more than a half-hour--excruciatingly long for Sophie and Tam, but just long enough for the others to get their bearings and for Elwin to check them over, giving them the clear.

“It’s actually...strange...how well you’re doing.” He frowned, finishing with Keefe as he snapped the final ball of light away. “All of you.” He added, seeing the immediate concern for Keefe. That...wasn’t better.

“What do you mean?” Sophie asked, examining her hands as if she could somehow see through to the cells the way Elwin did. Was there a problem? How could there be, he said they were doing well, hadn’t he?

He waved his hands about for a moment, as if trying to physically take his words back from the air. “Not that it’s a bad thing. In fact, I’m rather glad that you’re all doing so well. Your cells look...slightly traumatized, but otherwise bright. I guess I just...expected more damage considering--” he cut off, glancing at Mr. Forkle before giving them an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I don’t think I’m supposed to say.”

Keefe groaned, flopping back in his cot. “Not you too! It’s bad enough with just the Forklenator keeping us in the dark, but now you join him? Not cool.” While his phrasing left something to be desired...Sophie had to agree. She’d waited long enough to know about something she was involved in, shouldn't she have been the first to know? Shouldn’t the adults have been asking her what happened?

He shrugged, then Mr. Forkle cleared his throat, drawing their attention. “You kids have certainly waited long enough, but I insist we all reconvene down in our common space.” He raised his hands to placate them before they could protest. “You’ve all been laying in the same clothes in the same cots for a few days; I think you may want to attend to some personal care before we continue.” Sophie closed her mouth, realizing just how soaked her shirt was, how stagnant her tongue tasted.

As much as she’d love to jump right back into being productive...she’d also love a proper shower. She could see her friends thinking the same. And Elwin seemed to think they were good to go.

“One hour,” Mr. Forkle continued. “Nothing will change drastically in a single hour. Especially not after that stunt you kids pulled.” He smiled slightly, teasing them now that he knew they wouldn’t fight back.

Holy fuck she wanted a shower.

The pouring water was scalding enough that Sophie’s skin had begun to turn red, steam curling in the air and fogging the mirrors visible on the other side of the room. The smooth black rock beneath her feet seemed alive with the flickers of light from the dancing sconces adorning the ragged walls, reflected specks of color in the sheen.

It fell in a near-silent waterfall from the flat spout a foot or two above her head. It reminded her of those videos she’d seen as a child--laminar flow. The water falling so smoothly, so consistently it appeared almost solid. This was one of the moments where the dwarves' fondness for bubble-like shapes came in handy, she realized as she watched the water flow down the gentle curve of the floor towards the center of the space, guided by the room's natural curve.

The Bath Bubble--another one of Keefe’s names that had stuck--was possibly her favorite place to be nowadays. The room itself was spherical--hence the name--completely hollow except for the ragged column rising from the center of the room. The dwarves had worked alongside hydrokinetics to turn it into a functional pipeline, water flowing through the center and diverting out into the dozen waterfall-like streams her and her friends were standing beneath. And indeed it felt as though she could feel Linh’s soft charisma in the gentle flow.

Sophie tilted her head back, letting the heat pour soundlessly over her head, bubbles streaming down her back. There was a faint pitter-patter as she moved, the water droplets that diverted off her body made a faint splash. She could hear the same pattern of droplets in the stalls next to hers--a friend on either side in a stall of their own, although the dark glass panes between them kept her from seeing who, exactly, she was beside. It was a way of giving them privacy, she supposed.

A dozen stalls of the same size, same structure, with the same toiletries--although Dex always seemed to have a different soap of some kind--all spread around that center column.

It had seemed...strange at first, to say the least. She’d gotten so used to the luxury of her own amenities that she’d forgotten what it was like to share. Now they shared almost everything and had become closer than ever because of it.

The common space, bedrooms...and shower.

It wasn’t quite the same as back home, but she’d come to love it. The casual reassurance that the people she cared most about were just moments away; they were there, she could hear them.

Her fingers had begun to prune, she realized as she rubbed them together. A vague memory flickered in the back of her mind as she eyed the wrinkles, a time she’d heard that pruned fingers were just your body’s way of adapting its grip to work underwater. Curious, she stepped slightly out of the torrent and pressed her fingertips against the wet glass to her side.

Her fingers clung to the surface, a surprising strength in the grip. She could feel her eyebrows raise and then scrunch once more and her mind began whirring.

How ironic, she thought, that it all depends on the circumstances--using it the right way. She shook herself out of it, reaching for her bar of soap.

Who knew the Mysterious Miss F could get even more cryptic, Keefe teased, and she realized with chagrin that she’d accidentally spoken into the mindbubble.

Oh. Shit.

Faint laughter echoed throughout the room, not quite at her, but definitely because of her. It seemed all the blood in her body decided that it wanted to be in her face, and she turned the temperature of the water down to help cool her off. It had minimal success.

I don’t know about you guys, but whatever shit we were exposed to in that place doesn’t feel like it wants to come off. Biana’s voice rang out next, thankfully giving Sophie something to focus on that wasn’t her own mistakes. But she frowned as she realized Biana was right.

She’d been so focused on the feeling of the water, her pruning fingers, that she hadn’t bothered to pay attention to the rest of her body.

It was as though a thin film coated her body, itchy in the way your skin was after a soap bubble popped on your arm.

A film over every inch of her skin, permeating her pores and clawing its way through her cells--well, she supposed she was being a bit dramatic. But it was hard not to worry.

Elwin said we’re good, she reminded everyone, and she could almost hear them repeating it to themselves, small echoes laced with slivers of doubt and terror.

Grabbing the soap off the rack--honeydew this month--she tried to lather the film off, using her hands, then a washcloth, and finally trying to scrape off the top layer of skin with her fingernails.

When her arms were laced with angry red nail marks, she finally had to admit that it wasn’t going to come off anytime soon. Well, she transmitted, a bit perplexed. This is probably a temporary thing. Like ink. If you get it on your fingers, it lingers for a while and takes multiple washes to get out.

Everyone seemed all too eager to agree, chalking it up to something that just needed time. Sure, it was slightly unnerving, but if they just waited it out, the problem would disappear entirely.

It was foolish, she knew, but she couldn’t handle the idea that anything was seriously wrong.

“Did you fuck with the soaps again?” Ro asked, wrinkling her nose slightly. They were all gathered in the common area--or bubble, if you were Keefe--ready to get back to their...forceful inquiries. It took her a moment, but she realized the question was directed as Dex--who was equally as confused.

“The soap? Did I--uh, no. Why?” He stammered, brow furrowing. Honestly, it was kind of hilarious how confused he looked, but he shook himself out of it and repeated, “Why?”

“Your scents are off.”

There was a moment of silence--I mean, there was no proper way to react to being told you smell strange. Biana ran her fingers through her hair, bringing it close to her face and inhaling slightly. She frowned, seemingly also confused--at this point, everyone was confused about everything, which was getting to be rather annoying.

“Damn, we really can’t catch a break,” Keefe cut in, once again, and he glanced at her for a moment too long to be casual before cracking that crooked grin. “If you wanted to mess with us, couldn’t you have come up with something a bit more...I don’t know--interesting?” His tone was light, but there was an unmistakable tension in his shoulders, a hollowness in his eyes as his feet swung back and forth from his perch on a high stool.

“She’s right,” Sandor said, stepping forward with a frown. He came up right behind Sophie, sniffing like a rabbit before exhaling with force. “All of you, you smell different. And it’s not something your noses would be able to detect.” He directed the last part at Biana, whose hair was still pressed to her nose. She dropped it with a frown, absentmindedly scratching her nails over the skin of her arms--marred with red lines just like Sophie’s.

“It’s nothing bad,” Grizel quickly added, seemingly melting out of the walls. “You just smell...off. But you shouldn’t worry about that.” Her smile was almost too easy, too reassuring, but Sophie really didn’t want anything else to think about, so she found herself smiling back.

“Elwin said we were good,” Keefe said, also scratching at his skin; angry red marks covered his neck and disappeared beneath his shirt--she hadn’t been the only one to try and scrape off that film. Even now she noticed she was scratching at the exposed skin on her wrist and forearm, but she shook her hands out and forced herself to focus.

“Will someone finally tell us what happened?” she asked, calm and collected. Her eyes met Mr. Forkle’s, who’d been standing at the edge--could spheres even have edges?--of the room, watching them.

She raised her eyebrows, gesturing for him--anyone--to start talking.

He straightened, looking right back for a moment before turning to address them all. “Well, as you kids have probably figured out, the mission didn’t go according to plan--”

“No shit,” Tam mumbled, and a chorus of amused exhales sounded throughout the room.

Mr. Forkle took a breath, then continued. “You did succeed in setting off a good portion of the planted explosives. However, something went wrong and you didn’t get out in time. Luckily, Dex’s failsafe worked, so no one died or was seriously injured--because of the explosives at least.”

“There was a failsafe?” Mr. Forkle sighed as he was once again interrupted--but this time by Marella. She, too, was covered in self-inflicted scratches, and as her fingers dropped from her shoulder they left a particularly nasty trail of lines as she turned to look at Dex, who seemed slightly embarrassed.

“It was just supposed to be a backup, so I didn’t mention it,” he said, wringing his hands--covered in scratch marks--as he tried not to meet their eyes. “The trigger for the explosives was connected to my personal device, so I added another feature. If we were still within a dangerous range, then the ones within a set radius wouldn’t go off with the others. It didn’t disable all of them, only the ones that put us at risk.” He raised his hands placatingly as if worried they’d be upset with him because they hadn’t exploded.

“That would’ve been nice to know beforehand.”

“Sorry.”

Mr. Forkle cleared his throat before anyone else could speak. “Are you done? Yes? Alright. When you didn’t return by the planned time, we began the emergency retrieval.” Oh, right. They’d come up with a backup plan to get out before they’d even left. Amidst all the chaos, she’d completely forgotten about everything that wasn’t immediately in front of her. Her face heated slightly, how could she have forgotten?

“Using the temporary crystals, your bodyguards leapt in--with Grady there for the actual leap--found you, and leapt back. Of course, the process of leaping underground took a significant toll on them, and they also underwent treatment when they arrived back.” Sophie nodded along as he spoke, impatient. She’d already known all this; she’d even been the one to suggest using the unmapped stars as a backup plan.

Mr. Forkle looked towards the bodyguards, and Sandor started filling in the rest of the details. “We found you all unconscious in one of the vat-filled rooms, but the place was a mess. It seemed one of the shelving units had gotten knocked over, and multiple different vials had broken and mixed together--you all in the center of it.

“We didn’t have time to do anything but get you out of there, the place was still unstable after the blast. So we took you to Elwin immediately, where he treated you for several days until you awoke this morning.”

“Right, we could’ve guessed as much,” Marella cut in, impatience clear on her face. “What happened to the building?” she demanded. “We were knocked out right as the explosives were triggered, so we don’t know what happened and no one’s fucking told us.”

The silence in the room was palpable, and all the adults glanced between each other. Sophie huffed impatiently, her temper shortening by the second--and the itchiness wasn’t helping. What the fuck. How hard was it to give a clear report on what their team themselves had fucking done? Unbelievable.

“Why aren’t you telling us,” Sophie demanded, more statement than question.

“We understand that a lot of hope was riding on this mission--” Tiergan began from the corner, and her head whipped to face him--she hadn’t even noticed he was there, but she cut him off.

“Bullshit. This is all bullshit. Cut it out.” She was being more cross than she needed to, and she knew it, but she couldn’t think clearly through the itching. Her fingers drifted to her neck, absentmindedly shredding at the skin there as she continued, ignoring the shocked faces around her--she’d apologize later. “We want a clear answer. You obviously don’t know what happened to us in the facility, but we also don’t know what happened with the mission. You know--the reason we went into the facility.

“We know it wasn’t completely successful--we have the injuries to prove it, you had to resort to Plan B to get us out, so don’t cut around the chase. We don’t need the build-up. Not all of the explosives went off--but some did. So what’s the damage? How many of the explosives were actually triggered and what damage did they do? And give us a fucking clear answer for once, please and thanks.”

Her tone had been too sharp, too grating--she could see it on their faces; the way Grady’s hardened and he opened his mouth as if to reprimand her, remind her that they were all in the same boat; Mr. Forkle’s frown as he looked her over as if he didn’t recognize her; Edaline’s mouth fallen open in shock, eyes wide; Sandor’s crossed arms as he looked down at her--she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

“Fuck,” she whispered to herself, scratching more than just her neck now, desperately scrubbing at any accessible skin she could reach.

Why is it so...ITCHY. She didn’t know who’d transmitted it, maybe it’d been her. Maybe it’d been all of them--because they were all scratching, clawing, tearing at their skin.

Someone was talking--multiple someone’s--but she couldn’t hear much over the roaring of her skin stretched too tight against her bones, jerking and dancing and trembling beneath her fingers against her will. Her head bowed until it rested between her knees, shifting her shoulders blades as the heat in her body began to concentrate, spread, travel, like tiny rivers of lava searching against her skin.

“....Elwin….something’s…...tearing themselves apart…” was all she could discern through the scratching. Her fingertips became wet, something dripping down her skin, warm and slick--blood.

She’d drawn blood with just nails on skin.

And then she wasn’t in her own skin anymore.

Her shirt was soaked with ice, cool liquid poured over her back and sticking the bandages to her skin--ice to combat the heat. Sophie laid on her stomach in the cot, each of her friends around her, each of them back in the Healing Bubble.

Their heads were at the ends where their feet would normally be, so their faces were all closer to each other, as opposed to against the wall.

No one had anything to say, could even think of something to say, so they lay there on their stomachs, minds linked but quiet, buzzing with wordless thoughts as the heat in their backs continued to flow and ebb.

Ow, someone said dryly--Fitz, she realized a moment later.

It burns, Biana added, groaning as she shifted in her cot. Her face was coated in a sickly sheen of sweat and tears--and Sophie could see fresh scratches mingled in her scars.

Not as much as that scolding Foster whipper out earlier--I always knew you were feisty, but that was new. Keefe grinned at her as he said it, but she could see the grimace beyond it, the worry shadowing his face.

Her face burned--and not from pain--as she played over the memory in her mind. She’d lost control of herself in the pain and lashed out--and hadn’t cared.

Still didn’t care, if she was honest.

Everything she’d said was true, each quip had been her blunt opinions and desires, her frustrations. She just hadn’t meant to say it like that, but maybe it would convince the adults to stop being so avoidant and distant, to include them upfront for once.

Somehow, through all the trials and tribulation of the past few months, they’d remained secretive, stubborn, still trapped in this idea of superiority. Thinking the right approach, the right morals would get them through anything. It was bullshit--and she wanted them to know it.

Not that that had been her main priority when she’d started trying to peel her skin off with her bare hands--they all had. She’d been too in the moment to notice it, but as she’d hissed and scolded the adults and frantically scratched at herself, her friends were doing the same, only quietly, hazy, detached.

She’d taken the focus away from them, and it had taken a few moments longer for her friends' bodyguards to realize their charges were tearing themselves apart too.

Hmm. Oh. Yeah. That was an accident. She said quickly, realizing she’d never responded to Keefe’s comment, had gotten wrapped in her own mind. Dex and Marella snorted at her, all too aware of all the times she’d gotten distracted.

You were right, though, Maruca said, smiling slightly, looking just as wan as Biana--actually, no one looked good. You should yell at them more often; they listen to you.

I can’t believe we blew up a building, Linh whispered, and she buried her face into her cot as she shifted, reaching an arm behind her to scratch at the soaked fabric of her tunic. I just wish we’d gotten the whole thing at once.

Sophie nodded her agreement. Mr. Forkle had come in earlier to finally give them the report. His quiet, grave tone and his glances towards her had her looking away, embarrassed--no one would forget her little outburst anytime soon.

He’d been curt, to the point. Partly because of her, partly because Elwin was in the room, wrapping soaking cold bandages around their backs.

It had been...underwhelming. Anticlimactic. An entire outburst for one simple conversation.

Part of the facility was destroyed, buried in its own rubble beneath the ground, but not all of it. Not all the places they’d wanted to hit. Not enough to ruin the place like they’d intended. The plan had been to destroy all the “breeding”--they were man-made, so she didn’t know what to call them--parts of the facility, stop the flow of creatures from the source. Permanently damage the place in a way it couldn’t recover from.

Getting stuck in the facility threw a wrench in that.

Not only had some of the explosives remained dormant, but they’d discovered parts of the facility that were worse than they’d imagined. Sure, they’d gone in mostly blind, but they’d thought they had a general idea of the place. Turns out, nope. They’d need a thorough scouting of the inside of the building before they could bring it fully to its knees.

And none of them were in any shape to do that right now.

If it’s any consolation, at least there won’t be as many creatures coming from there now; we did do something. Fitz’s voice was soothing in her mind, and she flushed even brighter as she realized she’d subconsciously lowered her defenses and everyone had seen her replaying the memory.

You’d think being a telepath would give her better mental defenses, Marella teased. Sophie would’ve said something back, gotten them away from the conversation, but she watched Marella’s eyes flare slightly as her body tensed, teeth clenching together. Even though Marella was better at keeping private than Sophie, she still understood. She was trying to distract herself, and Sophie was an easy target--and one who wouldn’t mind.

She opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a door opening off somewhere she couldn’t see, but she knew who it would be before the absurdly colorful tunic came into view.

“How are we feeling,” Elwin smiled down at them all, the light not quite reaching his eyes. “And answer out loud please,” he teased. “I can’t hear all that internal telepath stuff you guys do. I don’t even understand how you and Fitz managed to figure that out, but it’s certainly impressive.”

They didn’t quite know what to say to that.

“Oo-kay,” Elwin said, picking up on the silence. “Let’s start with Sophie then. Still hurt?”

She nodded, then realized she should probably say something out loud. “Yes. My back burns, even with the numbing and pain relief--although that did help. It’s bearable now.” He nodded, snapping his fingers a few times before realizing he hadn’t put on his glasses.

He sat down next to her cot, pushing the glasses up the bridge of his nose before snapping once again. A bright ball of neon blue came into being above her back, and Elwin frowned down at her, looking through her.

“Is something wrong,” Dex asked, though he sounded strangely muffled. Glancing at him, she saw he had his braided bracelet in his mouth, biting down on it as he spoke--to keep from gritting his teeth. So he was in pain too, she guessed. “Fuck,” he whispered a moment later, which confirmed her suspicion.

“I don’t know what I’m seeing,” Elwin admitted, looking toward Dex and seeing the same pain Sophie had. “I think I’ll need to up your pain meds, though.” He walked around the room as he said it, stopping by everyone as if confirming what he’d already suspected for each of them. “The soaked bandages aren’t doing as much as I’d hoped.”

“And? Do you know what’s causing it?” Wylie asked.

“I have some theories--but before you ask, not enough for it to be worth sharing.” He glanced back at Sophie. “And I’ve got something else I need to do with you first.”

He disappeared into the adjacent room--where his supply was kept--but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong wrong wrong.

Anyone else creeped out? Biana’s voice was quieter than normal, and she scrubbed a hand down her face, pulling at the skin as she tried to distract herself from the burning on her back.

Elwin is. Keefe answered. He’s so worried it started fogging up the room. I can’t feel anyone else’s emotions through the haze.

The tension in the room grew, almost palpable by the time Elwin reemerged, levitating an assortment of bottles and vials and rolls of bandages behind him.

“Who wants to go first,” he asked, cracked smile betraying the all-consuming worry she couldn’t unsee now that Keefe had pointed it out.

“For what?” multiple voices chorused.

“Taking off your shirt.”

They all blinked. He continued.

“I’d originally planned to leave the bandages for a while longer, but it seems I might’ve missed something my first time around, so I’ll need to remove them to see that. Right now you’re all wearing your shirts, so I can’t get to them. I’m only one physician, so one of you needs to go first.”

“I’ll do it.” Tam had propped himself on his elbows, but his eyes were on Linh.

Linh, whose breathing had become uneven with worry. Whose eyes were slightly too wide, lips too thin, face too pale. Too subtle to see unless you knew what you were looking for--and Tam did.

He looked to Sophie for a moment and started, not realizing how close she’d been paying attention; he scrunched his nose at her before looking to Elwin.

Elwin rolled with it. “Okay. Sit up. Shirt off.” Tam complied, swinging his legs over the edge of the cot, slowly removing his tunic and looking studiously at the ground, as if he could convince himself there was no one else there. They all looked the same, but her breath was still stolen for a moment.

His entire torso was wrapped in thick, sopping bandages, covering him completely from armpit to waist. But there was something...off...with them. They didn’t sit right against his wan skin. They seemed frumpy, almost. Digging into his skin at odd angles, stuck in other places.

Elwin frowned for a split second before continuing. “Face the wall for me,” he said, and Tam turned his back to all of them. “I’m going to remove the bandages.”

The room was silent except for the slow peeling of the wet bandages suctioned to the skin, everyone trying and miserably failing to pretend they weren’t watching. Elwin moved slow, peeling them away from the skin little by little, trying his best to be gentle. They’d stuck themselves to the skin like a bandaid.

His fingers faltered as Tam’s back was finally exposed, breath catching as he stopped all together. Sophie couldn’t stop herself from gasping, jerking upward as she saw his skin--and she wasn’t the only one; terror laced every face in the room.

At the pulsing amalgamation of black veins spread across his back.

What, Tam’s voice demanded, echoing throughout the mindbubble. He couldn’t see the horror his skin had become, the undulating black slipping in and out of the surface of his flesh, moving like some untold map inked upon his back.

No one could muster the words--but they couldn’t hide it from their thoughts either.

He inhaled sharply as he saw his own form through Sophie’s eyes, wide and frozen, fixated on that unnatural black.

“Alright,” Elwin said, shaking himself back into himself. “Clearly the bandages didn’t work as they should’ve.” There was no hint of anything in his voice, just clear determination and aloofness and he thought through the next steps. “I’m going to assume something similar if not identical has happened to the rest of you, so follow his example. Shirts off.”

Everyone complied in silence, and Elwin made his way around the room, removing their bandages. It was strange, seeing him in action. So often she was unconscious while he worked, and she decided right then and there she preferred it that way. With no tension, no anticipation as she sat there, waiting for the verdict. Then, she’d wake up and everything would be in order--or at least on track with a plan.

Not now.

Not as with each of her friends Elwin found another convergence of veins spread across their backs. Marella’s back was angry and red, scolding to the touch and letting off steam; Biana’s skin flickering in and out of view, threads of invisible flesh weaving between visible; Wylie’s glimmering and shining unnaturally, faint light emanating from his skin; each of them more and more unbearable until Sophie was closing her eyes and leaning her head between her legs, counting counting counting the seconds until this would be over. This would be done. This would be gone.

This wouldn’t last. She wouldn’t believe it. Whatever happened, this would end and everything would be better. She just had to wait it out. She would wait it out.

Finally, Elwin reached her, the last one in bandages. She couldn’t breathe as she faced the wall, his fingers pressing briefly against her skin before he began the process, already knowing what he would find.

Peel.

Rip.

Tear.

The bandages fell away, the pressure easing--but images of her back filled her mind from the perspective of her friends. Her skin was distorted, stretched and pale across her back, pulling with every minute movement as she finally had a visual on where the burning sensation originated.

Elwin said nothing for a long moment, surveying the room before speaking. “I’ll figure this out, don’t worry. It looks like the pressure on your backs from the bandages aggravated something, causing a severe reaction. For now, I think your skin needs to breathe, so we’ll leave them off for now and reassess in the morning. They were just to help with the burning sensation anyways, which we can treat differently. I don’t want to mess with anything else right now; your skin is too damaged.”

He made as if to look out a window, then remembered where they were, how deep underground, and glanced to the light fixtures instead. Dex had helped with them, lighting systems that corresponded with the time of day and brightness aboveground, a simulated sun in every room. They could be overridden, of course, if you needed light at midnight you wouldn’t just be left to flounder about in the dark, but most people just went along with the natural course of light.

The light at the top of the Healing Bubble was currently overridden, and Elwin tapped his imparter a few times before it switched back, the room becoming a deep, dusty purple-blue. He tapped one more time and faint flickers of white appeared on the walls, spattered across their faces and the ground, a projected sky full of constellations.

Linh sighed, leaning back in her cot before wincing, switching to leaning back on her hand and taking the pressure off the skin on her back.

“I know it’s pointless to ask for some of you,” Elwin began as he walked towards the door, glancing at Sophie. “But do try and get some rest. I’ll be in here if you need me--might pop out for a few minutes if I need supplies--and I’ll update your parents and bodyguards, alright?”

They all nodded, but it was Dex who said, “Can you...can we not do visits? Please. Just...not yet.” Elwin’s face softened at that and he nodded, then he was gone.

And their backs still burned.

Something was breaking--no, broken. No. Something was going to break.

She wasn’t there, but she was.

Before her spread a hall of mirrors, impossibly tall, stretching into infinity, soaring above her and cascading beneath her feet--did she have feet?

She stood in the center of the hallway, the mirrors extended to either side, no end in sight.

Was there a noise?

No. Yes.

She couldn’t tell.

But the foreboding sense, the dread, that was real. That was there, and it was growing stronger. Each moment she existed there among those mirrors was another moment that something grew closer. But what?

What was coming closer?

What was going to break?

Where did the--

Sophie jolted upright, blood rushing from her pounding head as she tried to maintain her balance--and failed, toppling back onto the blankets and pillows.

She laid there, still as stone, for longer than she’d meant to. If she didn’t move, nothing could find her, she was hidden hidden hidden. Nothing would break.

Something itched at her back, incessant and demanding as she laid there, trying to ignore the feeling. They hadn’t needed to call Elwin before they’d all fallen asleep--although it’d taken her a while. She didn’t want to need him now. She was so close to believing everything was going to be okay. So so close.

She didn’t want to let go of that.

Beside her, Marella twitched in her cot, her fingers grasping at the blankets, small sparks shimmering at her fingertips, brow furrowed, breathing heavily as though stuck in a nightmare. Sophie didn’t want to wake her, didn’t even have the mental capacity to realize maybe she could.

Her breath came too fast, her head too light as she lay there.

She sat up, trying to escape the foreboding feeling of just sitting there, waiting there. It had very suddenly become less comforting than it’d been only moments before.

Something was wrong.

Something was

wrong

wrong.

Sophie stood, grimacing as her body tried to correct itself as she tilted side to side, head still spinning. She blinked a few times, and the room came into sickeningly clear view, down to the motes of dust swirling in the air.

She blinked again and the effect was gone.

Again, and it reappeared.

Sophie spun, the forms of her friends asleep in the cots staying in focus despite the movement, searching searching searching for, she knew it was here--there.

The mirror.

Tucked to the side, covered with a bolt of fabric, she pulled it out, resting it between Keefe and Fitz’s cots, tearing down the covering.

She pressed up close to the surface, pulling at the skin of her face as she looked into her own eyes, trying to see what she knew knew knew she wasn’t imagining.

Wide, terrified eyes stared back at her, scanning and searching for something, anything, watching the flickering projected constellations move across her skin. All she saw was herself, standing before the mirror in the clothes Elwin had given her, given all of them. The tank top was the same bland cream of the shorts, courtesy of the gnomes, who had helped mass-produce different things at the expense of individuality. There was nothing...her about what stared back. She knew she knew there was something she was missing--there.

A gleam. The light caught in the whites of her eyes and she could see the glossy film coating her entire eye. She blinked, willing it to disappear, and it was gone.

She did it again.

The film came back, and with it, frightening clarity. She could see everything, down to the individual strands of hair floating about her face.

She couldn’t think, couldn’t hear over her heartbeat pulsing in her ears. She put a hand to her chest, all her skin numb except for the fire dancing its way across her flesh. She couldn’t feel anything. No sensation. She may as well have been a bottomless pit instead of a person.

Wait. That heartbeat in her mind...that wasn’t hers.

She turned to face the room of her sleeping friends, blissfully unaware of her all-encompassing panic, watching with dawning horror as she realized it was...all their pulses, ringing in her ears alongside her own.

Out of the corner of her eye, movement caught her attention, something thin and shining, and she whirled her head around to face it, face the mirror.

The world tipped itself upside down at what she saw, the two stumps poking out from her shoulder blades, exposed by that mass-produced tank top.

They sat there, moving with her as she breathed too quickly, as though they’d always been there.

Purples blended into small blue feathers, creating stability at the base, and beyond that stretched something so thin, small vein-like patterns reaching out out out, a film between the shapes it created, like a--

Wing.

Like a wing.

Sophie fell to her knees before the mirror, the air stifling.

Those were wings growing from her back.

Taglist: @loudnerdfest @rainbowtay-11 @cadence-talle @pyrokinetic-loser @ahecktonoffandomsinoneblog @itstiger720 @loverofallthingssmart @cowboypossume @jolieharkness @wings-of-hell-and-beyond @shellyseashell @blossomjenniie @akotlcblog @imaramennoodle @booknerdddddd

#thoughts anyone?#i do so love a cliffhanger #come back in two weeks for reprieve lmao #but like seriously what are you Thoughts #*your #formatting these takes so long because im too lazy to do it the easy way #anyways #kotlc #kotlc wings au #kotlc fic #shattered upside down #my writing <3 #keeper of the lost cities

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dapper-chicken · 4 years ago

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Ok so. Carmen Sandeigo season 3.

I mean. It was alright?? I don’t know, I have mixed feelings with this season, and not because it was only five episodes long - I mean, yeah, that part was a let down, but I heard they had issues with budget cuts, so I get it. It just felt like some parts were?? Off?? Idk, here are some of my takes as a writing minor. Spoilers ahead.

- Did something change?? With the writers?? Something about the characters just felt a little skewed, and at some points it felt like they were parodies of their established character.

- Like, if Zach was kinda one dimensional before he definitely was this season. There was no attempt to give him any kind of personality aside from Dumb Funny Side Character Man.

- I was sad Julia got sidelined this season, but I think it was a necessary step for her to be able to later be involved with Carmen without ACME holding her back - since she’s putting an art/history degree to use now, it’s very likely Carmen will have to rob the place she works at later on. And, fingers crossed, maybe we can get some JULIA BECOMING A PART OF TEAM RED BAY-BE

- I really appreciated Devineaux coming to his own conclusion about Carmen, that was some good characterization.

- What was the deal?? With the dialogue?? That’s that only part of the writing I have any problem with. A lot of the lines where Carmen and VILE are doing their usual banter just felt really stiff, and some just didn’t make any sense at all. It felt like they were trying way too hard with some of it, especially with the line “School is going to be cool” being said in a completely serious context was just. Such dogshit writing.

- Speaking of Sonia (Was that her name??? I don’t remember??) I actually really wasn’t a fan. Like, her character had SO much potential. Her parallels with Carmen and what she could do for the story were so great but. I think it was a combination of bad character writing and bad voice acting that just made the character really stale. A lot of the lines were said with just not the right tone, (i.e. the ‘School is going to be cool’ line, but to be fair there was no saving that line). Idk, I feel like they just threw that character away with how they wrote her. Like, when she saved Carmen on the plane, It was because it was a line she wouldn’t cross, like Carmen said, but it was really kind of out of the blue I guess?? I wish Sonia would’ve been told more about why Carmen was there so she could get a full grasp of what she was getting herself into, and her connection with Carmen would’ve been established more.

- We stan Shadow-san getting that familial redemption. That episode was the best in the season imo. And NOT just because My Boy was in it (I’ll get to that later). Shadow-san was actually really good this season, I really enjoyed the found family dynamic he has with Carmen and being able to reconcile with his brother.

- FOUND FAMILY!!!!

- I was surprised at how Halloween based this season was. I see it now that a user pointed it out that it was a way for the writers to use masks as a literal and figurative driving force in the plot, which was actually Really Good so kudos to them.

- Countess Cleo seemed a bit out of character this season. Like, with the scene where they dig into candy she’s straight up eating cheap Halloween candy. Which is. Kind of against everything her character stand for. Indulging in excess fits, but indulging in something that, in her eyes, would be so lower class was really surprising.

- Also can I talk about the faculty for a sec? I know a lot of people enjoyed the faculty getting really into Halloween but for some reason I didn’t get into it. I feel like a lot of it made the faculty into a kind of comedic relief, which took away from a lot of the threat they’re supposed to have. They didn’t feel intimidating this season, they just felt like they were… There (all except for Roundabout). The dressing up and goofing around felt out of character too. I know it humanizes them a lot, but I feel like an international evil empire isn’t going to put up Halloween decorations, and if they were its going to be Top Of The Line Shit. I feel like going full clown was a little much even for Maelstrom. I feel like they could have gotten the same idea across and it might have even been better if they just gave him a single clown nose on top of his usual attire. It would have made for some (in my opinion) better visual humor. Then again, I have to keep reminding myself that this show is directed at a younger audience and I really shouldn’t be as critical as I am about it given that fact, but they set a really high bar for themselves with season 1.

- You know now that I think about it the faculty being given some comic relief this season would have been fine if they didn’t drive Zach’s character into the ground for it at the same time. Like, they’re milking Zach for all the not great comic relief they can, and are at the same time trying to do it with the faculty, which just makes everything feel a little campy.

- You know what was great comic relief????

- TIME TO TALK ABOUT THE MAN OF THE HOUR, BOYS.

- LETS TALK ABOUT MIME BOMB. LETS TALK ABOUT MIME BOMB.

- Oh my god. Oh m y go d. This. This guy. When I tell you I laughed at all of Neal and Mime Bombs scenes I am not joking. The dynamic between these two was golden. Just. *Chefs kiss*.

- Mime Bombs visual humor was fucking outstanding. The miming at the closed window, pretending to untie the boat, just everything he did was so FUCKING GOOD.

- And can we talk about Neal??? Personally I wasn’t a Slime Bomb shipper, but these two were written so well together that I’m actually starting to reconsider. Neal is just so great. He makes every character he’s with all the better, and just has such a great dynamic.

- FUCK I loved this episode.

- I love how they made Mime Bomb kinda fugly so they wouldn’t have to deal with the thirst this time around, but y’all FAILED LMAO.

- I Can And Will Smooch The Mime What About It.

- I like that they didn’t find Carmen’s mom yet. It’s not great how they stop looking after the first episode, but I feel like finding her mom in just 5 episodes would have felt so incredibly rushed.

- Women wrestling. WOMEN WRESTLING .

- The final episode was good. You knew Carmen was gonna get out of it somehow but it felt like a nice final episode. It left some good cliffhangers and felt like a nice tie to what was an entirely too short season. Can’t wait to see how ACME handles Gray.

- I was disappointed some of the OG cast in VILE didn’t get screen time, but it was, again, only 5 episodes, so there really wasn’t anything they could do about it.

- I am not a fan of The Troll. Like, his character is needed, because eventually VILE would need a natural counter to Player, cause that’s just how things need to play out, but I think he’s going to be a victim of writing. Like, his introduction establishes his ties to internet culture with that glasses drop meme and that in of itself is going to kill this character. Like, I’m so scared he’s going to fall victim to what every show tries to do, and that’s the ‘What’s up fellow cool kids’ (And by that I mean reference internet humor and trends, which will ultimately do nothing but date the show). Like, The Troll has SO MUCH POTENTIAL. WE’VE NEEDED AN EVIL COUNTER TO PLAYER FOR A WHILE NOW BUT DON’T MAKE THAT COUNTER PART A GUY WHO TALKS LIKE HE’S FROM R/INCELS.

- With all that being said, I really do still care for the show. I was lowkey disappointed with this season but I look forward to seeing what they do in the future and still hold a lot of love for this show in my heart. Fingers crossed for another season!!!

#carmen sandeigo netflix #carmen sandeigo 2019 #mime bomb #neal the eel #roundabout #coach brunt #countess cleo #proffesor maelstrom #netflix #spoilers #player #zach and ivy #shadow san #carmen sandiego

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krabstick32 · 4 years ago

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Hi! I love your writing so much!!! May I please request a self indulgent giyuu fic where the reader has some self esteem issues, like having long hair to cover most of her face and is plus size but has a good heart! Thank you that would make my life!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Wardrobe Malfunction

Requested by: anon

Pairing: Giyuu x Reader

Synopsis: Dress up was supposed to be fun. Your clothes say otherwise.

Tags/warnings: This work does have slight implications of self-esteem issues and body dysmorphia/body dysmorphic disorder. I’d like to say that this is not meant to offend anyone, and also to apologize for any faulty interpretations.

A/N: To the anon who requested this: i’m so glad you like my writing 🥺💖 bUT I AM SO SO SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG WITH YOUR REQUEST :(((((( I feel terrible for taking an actual month to finish this, and i’m not even 100% satisfied with it :(( As an explanation though, I was working on something entirely different for you. It was a modern high school au, 5+1 sort of fic, which was almost finished but for some reason felt wrong...so I thought up of a new idea aka this.

Anyway, i hope the wait was worth it anon, and i hope ya’ll enjoy it too!!

Blood Demon Arts were a complicated skill set that special demons possess. Some use it for fighting, some for catching humans, yet some were just downright weird.

A fight with a low-level demon teaches you that.

Barely five minutes into the fight, and you were already sheathing your Nichirin Blade back in its scabbard. You were fine, if not a little uncomfortable from the weird slime-like substance that came from the demon coating your uniform. The fight wasn’t difficult, but the demon was a little perverted. It didn’t even try to fight all that seriously, and instead kept trying to sneak glances under your skirt.

There were only minor scrapes around your skin—though now, you wish you could say the same for your clothes, because it starts melting.

Maybe that demon wasn’t as low-level as you thought because the corps uniform was made to withstand damage from low-level demons, but this odd liquid was enough to let parts of it disintegrate and expose your skin. Fortunately, it didn’t sting, burn or give your skin rashes—only melt off the fabric that covered your decency.

That was your last spare uniform too, because you’ve been sent to a lot of dangerous missions lately. This was the only one you had at home, but thankfully, you’ve placed a quick request for a few new ones to be sent to you.

You were lucky to have been able to beat it, so once you quickly lopped of the stupid demon’s head, you panicked and whistled for your bird to bring in kakushi. You didn’t know if this was Oyakata-sama’s foresight’s work, but you were grateful that three female kakushi pushed through the treeline, and quickly rushed to you once they noticed your predicament. One of them took care of the demon’s remains while the other two moved to you and wrapped you securely in a blanket, protecting your dignity and easing your panic.

Even if you were pretty much healthy and good to go, the girls—Chiyo, Tsune, and Hatsuko were great company as they escorted you back—ushered you to one of the many rooms in the butterfly estate. You argued that you weren’t injured and that you didn’t want to burden the butterfly nurses and the kakushi, but the girls told you that the estate wasn’t too busy, and that there was plenty of room for you.

The room was standard with a cot, a bedside table, and a few chairs for visitors, where a spare set of clothes for you was folded over. You were fine, but you were still grateful for the short time you could use for rest and for the girl’s thoughtfulness. Spending the time worrying about what you wear on your next mission would be a waste, so you lie down and try to close your eyes instead, to calm down your nerves.

The sound of shuffling doors brings you out of your light nap just in time to see a head of jet-black hair pop in.

A smile makes its way across your face as you watch your boyfriend slide the door close as quietly as possible. Giyuu looked good—clothes the same, hair unruly with the bare thread of his hair tie attempting to keep it tame—but what was new was the small package under his arm.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asks when he sees you sitting up, and takes a seat on the nearest chair. Your smile sweetens when he looks back up, feeling your heart beat a little faster as his eyes soften out of its usual steely, and impassive gaze.

Dragging your mind out of its haze, you wave off his concern and reply, “Oh, this is just a formality—I’m fine.” Well, physically you were, but you’re reminded that all is not well when he glances around the room only to find the folded tatters of what remains of your previous clothing sitting innocently on the bedside table. “Wish I could say the same about my uniform though.”

“This should solve that.” Giyuu hands you the mysterious package and it gives you a moment to notice how nicely it was wrapped.

Lightly, you run your fingers over the black ink your name was written in, on a small tag attached to the white twine wrapping around brown packing paper. The twine intersects in a small tied ribbon right at the middle, and is sealed with a piece of wax stamped with the corps’ insignia. “Ah, is that why you’re here?”

“No, I was on my way to see you when I heard you were here. That—” He gestures with his chin “—I just brought in from the kakushi.”

You choose to ignore the way your cheeks flush when he mentions his intentions and instead show surprise. With how busy the kakushi were, you were pleasantly surprised that it took them only four days to make your uniform. “Oh, thanks, that was fast of them.”

“It’s your uniform right? I can wait outside so you can try it on.”

Already flustered from his previous responses, you try to answer, “Ah, yeah, yes. Thanks, I’ll just—um, yeah.” Only to sound like a bumbling idiot. Eloquent as always.

Embarrassed by your mess of a mouth, you look down at your hands and feel your hair come to cover your heated face. Looking at him in the eye right now would reduce you to a pile of flaming ashes, so you’re grateful your long hair has saved you yet again from his piercing stare.

Before Giyuu leaves though, you hear a light chuckle until he’s gone and you’re left with the sound of the door sliding back shut and the thought of how unfair it is that he can easily get you to smile and then flustered at the next second.

The moment you let the uniform unfold, something tells you that there was something…wrong. For one, there were too many holes in it—one on each shoulder, and an entire chunk around the stomach. The fabric felt silkier than what you previously had—even the skirt was much, much shorter than what you remember requesting for.

But a quick double check on the wrapping paper confirms that this was your uniform, so you try it on. It’s been a while since you’ve ordered a new one, maybe you just…weren’t used to it? Or maybe there were new rules in place?

If it wasn’t already bad when you first looked at it, it was even worse when you were wearing it.

How is this even supposed to protect me?

The only thing covered was your chest (not even counting the skin in the middle!), your forearms, and half your thighs. The uniform was too revealing and boy, did you want to crawl in a hole right now. You felt exposed—too exposed. You've rarely felt good in your own body, and now was no exception.

Just the thought of somebody else seeing you like this? What would they think?

A pit forms in your stomach, and something black and slimy wraps around your shoulders and around your neck. You feel constricted, like you couldn’t move or breathe, and your nails were digging in too hard into the clammy skin of your palms.

You weren’t like Mitsuri or Shinobu. You didn’t have a great figure like the love pillar, or a petite frame like the insect pillar. Instead, you found yourself staring into a mirror more often than you’d like, only to feel disappointed in your oversized body. In fact, you’re extremely lucky to have gone this far without a demon catching up to you given how slow you feel your body makes you.

You shouldn’t be crying over this—it was childish to throw a fit over something like this, but you feel horrible.

A knock from the door interrupts your thoughts and Giyuu’s voice carries over through the wooden door.

“(F/N), are you okay? Should I get Shinobu?”

No, he can’t see me like this.

Quickly, you scramble back to the bed where you placed your hospital clothes, and yank the stupid uniform you requested off your body and shove it under the bed. “Ah, no! I-I’m fine, I’m just changing again!”

You slip the button through the last opening and walk towards the door to let Giyuu back in.

Maybe I should send him back?

You could say that you were feeling sleepy or that you weren’t feeling too good, but he came all this way and… or maybe he was here to see someone else? You were his girlfriend, but that didn’t mean he was automatically here for your company.

You were too far gone in your own fears that you completely forgot that you were the reason why he was even here in the first place.

Hopefully, he leaves without question. Your hair will hide your face so he shouldn’t notice how it was burning or how there were small drops of tears in your eyes. But this was Giyuu, the Water Pillar, one of the strongest demon slayers in the entire corps, and your boyfriend. Nothing gets past him, especially if it concerns you.

He doesn’t even get through the threshold before he notices. “He—(F/N), what’s wrong?”

“...It’s nothing,” You say, angling your face away from you. I just feel tired all of a sudden. How about we see each other tomorrow? If you’re free of course. I know how busy you can get.” And you rarely saw each other too. It was a shame your issues just had to swoop right in.

“It’s fine with me if that’s what you really want, but are you sure it’s nothing?”

You feel warm fingers caress your chin before his hand moves back up to cup your cheek, and that’s when your walls chip and break. You lean into his touch and peek through your bangs to see a soft look in his eyes—a look you only ever saw on the rare chances you catch him looking at you or when he had a plate of freshly-cooked salmon daikon.

“You can tell me anything if you want to, I’ll listen.”

Of course you knew you could tell him anything, but actually telling him about something so stupid had you fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve. “I know this will sound stupid, but my uniform is wrong.”

“The uniform?”

Further hunching in on yourself, your body starts sweating, and you feel like your tears were about to spill over. “It looks terrible. There was no fabric around my entire stomach, it only covered half my things and—! Ugh, I know, I know it’s really childish of me to be complaining so much about it but I didn’t feel comfortable in it at all. I hate it—” and i hate my body “—It doesn’t look right on me, I’m too big for it.”

You breathe out a small sigh and look down at the floor. Melting through the floorboards sounded nice. “Maybe it’s just my fault—if I was thinner or prettier it would probably fit me better. I don’t know…I thought it would be similar to what I had before.”

“...Look at me,” Giyuu says after a while, and takes your hands when you don’t seem to reply any time soon. “Do you trust me?”

Immediately, you look up to him and answer with no hesitation. “With my life.”

“Then I hope you’ll believe me when I say that it's not your fault.” His lips curl slightly upward when your gaze moves from the floor to him. He’s glad that he caught your attention, because he wants you to see how much he means the words he’s about to say.

“I don’t care if you’re thinner, or prettier or about anything else. As long as you’re happy, healthy, and alive, it’s more than enough.” Giyuu places his forehead against yours, and for a moment, you forget why you’re worrying so much.

“To me, You’re the kindest, prettiest, most perfect person in my eyes, and I hope you see yourself the way I do. You have a heart of gold, and you’re plenty perfect just the way you are. You don’t need to change for anything or anyone.”

Giyuu wasn’t really good with words, and he knew that. In fact, at the moment you were seeking comfort, he was in over his head. He thought he was being redundant and talking himself in circles, so he did panic a little when the tears started slipping from your eyes. Panic changed into relief though when you wrap your arms around his torso.

You were well-aware that he wasn’t good with words, so you were caught off-guard by the reassurances he was giving you. You never knew how much you needed to hear those from him, to be reminded that he liked you just as you are.

As easily frazzled you were with a somewhat constant need for reassurance, you’ve gotten used to the fact that receiving verbal assurance from him would be rare if not nonexistent. So you’ve gotten used to his quiet support. He was always there when you needed him, and tried to comfort you the best way he knew how. You appreciated it, and even came around to care for his silent quirks, but hearing him say how much you meant to him, was incredibly comforting, and

“If you hate your uniform, I've heard that Shinobu had problems with hers too at first so I'm sure we can ask Shinobu what she did with hers. I can even place a request for a new one for you.”

Giyuu was never very good with words, but he always made it up with his actions.

“That would be nice.”

BONUS:

You really appreciated that Giyuu was with you the entire time your horrible uniform was alive on this earth. As promised, he helped you handle the uniform issue, and came with you to Shinobu’s office (who was more than willing to hand you the oil and matches).

“Oh? (F/N)-chan? Tomioka-san?” She greets when she ushers you two in her office. “I haven’t seen you two in a while! I’m surprised Tomioka-san is here with you though. I thought he avoided social interaction?.”

Giyuu grumbles at her teasing, but you know these two were friends, even if both of them didn’t want to admit it. “I’m still here.”

You squeeze your boyfriend’s hand, before smiling sheepishly at Shinobu. “It’s been a busy few weeks. We should catch up sometime, but that’s not really why we’re here.”

The Insect Pillar tilts her head in curiosity, and asks, “Oh? Then how can I be of service?”

“Well, you see, all of my uniforms were ruined from my past missions, so I requested for a new one, but um…” Giyuu handed you the clothes you’ve placed back in the wrapping paper which you bring out and let unfold to show Shinobu how it was clearly not your style.

Air seems to freeze over as the seconds tick by with your ‘uniform’ hanging from your hands.

Giyuu was standing behind you, so you couldn’t exactly see his reactions, but you could see how Shinobu’s ever-present smile turned sinister, and looked like she was ready to stab someone with her sword.

“I think they got my size wrong. Giyuu told me that you mentioned having the same problem before, so I was hoping you could tell me how you got yours fixed.”

Without any hesitation whatsoever, Shinobu’s smile stays eerily plastered on her face, “Oh, it’s simple! You can just burn yours. Don’t worry, I burned mine too and I lent the oil and matches to Kanao and Aoi, so you don’t have to feel bad—I’m more than willing to lend you the oil and matches I used. How about I join you two to go to the kakushi? I have a vague idea of who the tailor might be.”

As per Giyuu’s words, It wasn’t your fault. One of the kakushi in charge of making the uniforms was too blame and decided to take some… creative liberties with yours.

When Giyuu saw the scraps of cloth Maeda-san—or scum-glasses as everyone promptly nicknamed him— back in Shinobu’s office, you thought his face didn’t change or move an inch. Shinobu wanted to laugh, because unlike typical Giyuu fashion, everyone who saw him the entire day could see the pulsing vein on his temple that seemed like it would pop any minute. It was clear that he was pissed off, as he handed you the oil to douse the clothes in and gave a readily lit match, but she found it a little sweet that he was a bit more transparent when it came to you.

After the fabric was reduced to ashes in front of Maeda-san, a new agreement was made about your uniform, and as a temporary solution, Giyuu lent you a few of his spare uniforms for you to wear on duty. You had plenty of kimonos and hakamas to wear, but you primarily wore those for training and didn't particularly provide the same protection the corp’s issued uniform did.

It was a little tight around your chest and your hips, and a bit too long for your arms and legs, but you could still move around comfortably without busting a button, so you took it gratefully, and wore it for the week your uniform was being made.

He was with you when your new uniform arrived. The two of you were eating snacks on the Water Estate’s engawa when a kakushi—in a nice surprise it was Tsune—dropped by with a new package, similar to the one Giyuu handed you before. You thanked them and hurriedly went in one of the empty rooms to change, leaving Giyuu to drink his tea alone as he waits for your return

“Giyuu!” You call as you join him back on the engawa. He turns only to be blinded when he sees you smiling to high heaven. “Look, it’s perfect! They got the measurements right this time.”

The uniform you wore right now was just like your old one, and he could see that it clearly made you happy. You even twirl in place, gleefully modeling your new skirt and uniform blouse to him.

“I’m grateful you lent me your uniform, but I;m more used to wearing skirts.” Laughing lightly, you look down at your clothes, carefully running your fingers across the fabric. “I’m so glad this one’s perfect!”

Without an ounce of shame or hesitation, Giyuu tilts his head towards you and says, “You’re the one who’s perfect.”

Oh my god, your heart is going to explode.

Looking down at your tabi socks, you let your hair fall over your face, if only to hide the red flush on your skin. “Giyuu, are you sweet talking me right now?”

“No, I’m being honest.” From the sound of his voice, he was being one hundred percent, and a quick look on his face confirms it, even if there was a little mischievous glint in his eyes. He knew you were getting flustered and in extension, knew what he was doing to you.

You sit down at your previous spot right beside him before taking your teacup from where you placed it on the tray to hide the small smile on your lips. “Okay, okay, you can stop now, you’ve made your point.”

“But I’m serious, you look perfect.” Giyuu leans over, wrapping an arm around your waist and places a soft kiss on your cheek. He tugs you closer to lean against him and watches how your skin changes into a deeper red. It makes him think that he should voice his thoughts about you more often.

“Ah, Giyuu! Stop it!” You giggle, but ultimately return the favor, peppering his face in kisses and smiling at him in a way that makes his heart beat faster.

He may have been a little sad that you won’t be wearing his clothes anytime soon now, but seeing you comfortable and smiling…

Well, that was more than enough for him.

A/N: A gentle reminder to those who reached the end: please know that you are a beautiful and wonderful person. You are loved, you are valued, and have people who care for you, okay?

A huge thank you for reading! online classes are being a little pain, so even if I really missed writing (and reading) fanfics, I might be a little rusty :(( hopefully ya’ll enjoyed it 🥺

Again, to the anon who requested this, i am so so sorry that it took me this long. i hope you still liked it tho 🥺🥺 (i also might post that modern hs au i was talking about earlier, so keep your eyes peeled for that <3)

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shipping-is-the-shit · 3 years ago

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My Loud House Sin kids AU

(Sin Kids meaning- a fandom term for fictional sibling x sibling ship kids or fictional adult/minor ship kids)

So I’ve been getting into the loud house fandom lately and i found out the “sin kids�� concept/AU where Lincoln has kids with his sisters and stuff, so yeah you know how that is, anyway i decided to create my own sin kids but between Bobby x Lincoln. The ship was first inspired by @samsuchan and by then i hadn’t really thought of the idea of bobby x lincoln but when I actually thought about it it sounded cute so decided to draw their sin kids

(yes i am aware that bobby looks different here, i just don’t really like his headshape plus this is easier to draw)

So this is how my AU goes, It all started normally till after the episode where Lincoln and Bobby hang out,Lincoln finds out that he unfortunately has a crush on Bobby and tries to surpress the feelings because of the age gap and cause he’s dating Lori so later on they find out they have feelings for each other and then start having their secret relationship, it’s all fine and good till one day Bobby drinks Lisa’s potion and then one day unknowingly has a kid, he had no idea about it cause his stomach didn’t even swell and he wasn’t even showing the usual pregnancy symptoms, he just went to take a dump one day and found a fucking baby that looked identical to him and Lincoln, Bobby asks to move out and tries to keep the birth of the kid a secret from everyone except Lincoln, they keep unknowingly having more kids, thinking the effects of the potion would’ve worn off but it didn’t till their seventh kid, when Lincoln turned eighteen he moved out to go live with bobby and the kids but it didn’t take long for everyone to find out what was going on and be surprised and furious, well furious mostly referring to Mr and Mrs Loud, Lori,Ronnie Anne and the Casagrandes of course. They currently have seven kids though i’m still struggling with whether or not this takes place in the original sin kids AU of the loud house especially since Bobby is supposed to be dead in that AU, Well anyways time to introduce the kids!

LUISA LOUD, 16 years old

She is sixteen years old but mature for her age. She has a studious, serious and formal personality. She dislikes her buck teeth because she thinks less people might take her seriously because of it. She does smile but it doesn’t happen much. She loves reading adventure/mystery novels and is neat and organized like her father Bobby. She is responsible so she gets easily annoyed with her other sisters’s irresponsibility and she always does her best to please people and abide by rules.

LILIANA LOUD, 15 years old

A total comic book enthusiast,she does play video games but spends most of her time drawing comics and manga and watching anime. She has anxiety and stutters with her words. She can be kind and sweet but likes saying humorous depressed and suicidal lines from time to time which can most times annoy or creep out her sisters and parents. She is an anti-social shut in with no friends and just like her dad Bobby she is very clingy to people she’s close to. She can’t even imagine a single day without her dads and is very clearly not independent on her own. Her favorite comic book series is Ace Savvy which she likes to read with her dad Lincoln plus she also has a hobby of drawing hentai which she tries to hide from everyone.

LUPE LOUD, 14 years old

Lupe is extremely irresponsible, feared by almost all of her sisters and sometimes even her parents!, she is considered to be “that one sibling you just don’t want to fuck with” in the house of the Loud and sees herself as a badass and regularly makes snarky comments . She likes to be on her own with her own private space but is not as anti-social as Lilianna . She gets annoyed easily and regularly yells at her siblings (tho its mostly the younger ones). She is not as petty as to do random shit just to piss people off but she’ll do it if she hates you. She also finds it fun to regularly tease people(not in a sexual way) and also likes to play videogames. Her favorite band is also “SMOOCH” though she can’t play any musical instruments so she just listens to music.She can sometimes be close with her sisters Liliana and Luz.She also regularly swears in spanish.

LUPITA LOUD, 13 years old

She is as cool as a cucumber and is very level headed and chill like her father and doesn’t really care or get bothered by most things though unlike Bobby she is extremely lazy and mostly spends her time lazing around the house much to Bobby’s disappointment. She sees herself as cool and is also obsessed with being cool . She gets unhappy when she has to do work even if it’s for her own good. Her favorite past time is sleeping, she doesn’t really have any skills and even if she does it’s probably something stupid like being able to make a fart sound with your armpit or being able to get your toe to touch your nose, she also uses the word “dude” in almost every sentence. Her laziness can also annoy her siblings from time to time.

LUZ LOUD, 12 years old

(yes she’s inspired from the owl house)

Luz is the main character of my Lincoln x Bobby AU, she is a very happy go lucky girl and is always optimistic. She is trustworthy of everyone around her which can make her a victim of her sisters’s plans as she is gullible, despite being dimwitted she is very good at making plans to get out of sticky or difficult situations. She also dreams to be an astronaut when she grows up and likes designing spaceship ideas. Her favorite past time is playing video games with her dad Lincoln though other times she considers Lupa as her gaming partner. Lupa and Luz constantly argue but they have their moments. Luz also reads comics from time to time though only if they have something to do with space.

LORENA LOUD, 11 years old

Lorena is a very mischeivious girl who is always looking for new ways to piss people off all in the name of getting a reaction, she does this to everybody though her favorite victim is Lupa. She likes to be an annoying asshole to almost everyone and rarely abides by the rules. Her favorite past time is pulling ghost pranks and making fun of people,she finds joy in laughing at others misfortunes,she also makes ghost jokes. She likes reading comics about ghosts and has a big interest for paranormal stuff. She is a big fan of ghostbusters and dreams of being an excorcist when she grows up.She also has a bit of a gothish personality. Just think of her entire personality as that annoying and buggy little sister,yeah thats her.

LUCIANA LOUD, 10 years old

Despite her age, her street smarts is on a whole other level. She has a huge interest in business or commerce topics or subjects. She has a calm personality but is most times obnoxious, she also really likes money, especially gaining it. She is known to be a trickster both in the house of the louds and even out in the streets. She helps her dad Bobby to run his store and one day hopes to be a successful businesswoman in the future. Her partner in crime and the one she hangs out the most with is Lorena.

Hope you guys like my idea and the characters!

Content about the characters or my AU will always be appreciated!

The original sin kids AU was inspired by (or atleast i think it was) @liosdoodles , @trillhouse-lh , @patanu102 , @sadistcshy

This is hands down the most cursed thing i have ever drawn lol.

#sin kids #loud sin kids #problematic art #problematic shipping #problematic ship #problematic family #tw age gap #tw age difference #tw problematic ship #bobbincoln

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tilltheendwilliwrite · 4 years ago

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Star-Crossed: Bound by Blood

Chapter Three

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Warnings: Canon divergent during Chapter 13 of The Mandalorian, serious pining

A/N: I make this stuff up as I go along, if I screw something Star Wars-y up, apologies in advance, I didn’t do it on purpose, but I’m new to this Fandom. I will be cross posting this story between AO3 and Tumblr except the smutty bits. Those chapters will only be available to registered users on AO3. (I’m trying something new for people who want to read here on Tumblr, but to also avoid the smut for minors controversy. We’ll see how it goes.)

*I do not have a tag list* Please follow the story on AO3 if you want email updates, or follow @tilltheendwilliwrite-library where I post the new/latest chapters of all my stories.

***

The trip to Nevarro was hell.

The Razor Crest now smelled like Baast, and after using his soap, their two scents had blended, and Din was going out of his kriffing mind. He'd taken to sleeping in the cockpit, having given up his cot, but it did little good.

It was like the essence of her had invaded every part of his home.

He'd started having dreams. Dreams of a world with sand dunes and plains of long grass, where towering forests of old wood grew and swayed in gentle, fragrant breezes. He dreamed of walking the rock and sand trails of jagged mountains, of climbing steep cliffs to drink from sweet falls that appeared out of the clouds.

And when he reached his destination, a rocky outcropping high above the world, a cat leapt over the rocks to land before him. She was sleek lines and dense muscle, her coat tawny, darkening to black over her muzzle and legs. Long tufts of fur drifted in the wind from the tips of her ears, and green eyes watched him with a thousand years of ancient wisdom.

He knelt before the regal creature and pulled off his helmet. She padded closer, circled him once, sniffed him curiously, and began to purr. The rumble soothed his soul, and Din closed his eyes as her sleek, furry cheek rubbed against his.

"Mine," he whispered as he reached for her, waking himself from the dream every time.

By the time they landed on Nevarro, he was desperate for air that didn't smell like Baast. A few more parsecs, he may have done something stupid.

He met her at the gangway with a heavy cloak. "Put this on, draw the hood, and try to remain inconspicuous."

She arched a brow before handing over Grogu. The kid stuck to her like glue, eager to be at her side whenever he was awake. It was a relief to know someone else was watching him, but at the same time, he missed the kid's continual company.

Baast shrugged into the cloak and pulled the hood over her hair before laying her hand on his arm. "Are you well?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You have been distant."

"Just busy." He held out a silver bar roughly three inches long. "Extendable staff, at least until the Alor can get you those sabres."

She smiled at him, the light just catching her fangs. "Thank you, Mando."

He tilted his head but tugged the hood farther forward. "Let's go."

They'd landed well after dusk, assuring a quiet, uninterrupted trip through the streets. Those that lingered paid them no mind used to seeing the silver beskar of an unpainted Mandalorian.

The bar was fairing better after the fight with Moff Gideon. Walls had been repaired, and the damage painted over.

He walked in and headed straight for the back booth, ignoring the eyes that followed. They knew better than to mess with him, and the music stayed lively.

Karga, however, wasn't alone.

"Karga. Dune," he stated, tossing three pucks on the table.

"Only three, Mando? I sent you out with four," Karga teased. "Did a quarry finally escape the famed Mandalorian?"

"She's dead; body recovery was impossible."

He watched Cara's eyes flick to Baast and down to Grogu, a smile growing as she pushed from the table. "There's the little womp rat!"

Grogu squealed his happiness, but Baast growled.

The low sound set his hair on end, causing Din to step back, between the woman and his clan. "Cara, not now," he said, no explanation, not sure he had one to give.

Baast placed her hand on the back of his neck, a place without beskar but covered by his cowl. Still, he felt it like a live wire jolt.

"Usenye!" Baast growled.

"Udesii," Din murmured, turning just enough to know he meant Baast.

"Whoa, someone's touchy," Cara muttered.

Mando didn't need this right now. The longer he stayed here, the more twitchy he felt, like something beneath his skin was itching to claw its way free. "Karga. If they ask, you tell them she's dead."

The man stared at him a long moment, assessing, processing before he gave a short nod. "I will log the information myself." He reached into his pocket and pulled out an ingot of beskar. "For your trouble and the three on your ship."

"Where did you get that?" Din asked, picking up the ingot.

"Took it off some Imps after that last clean up." A second pile of credits, smaller than it should be, landed next. "Consider us even."

"Done," he agreed, hyper-aware of Baast's hand still light against his neck.

"And congratulations, Mando. It isn't every day a Mandalorian takes a riduur."

He felt Baast's fingers twitch but didn't correct Karga's assumption.

"You got married!" Cara gasped, loud enough to cause the bar to pause and look their way.

One long stare over his shoulder had them minding their business again.

"Baast'mal. Cara Dune, former shock trooper, now Marshal for the New Republic. Greef Karga, head of the Bounty Hunters Guild, and Magistrate of Nevarro."

"A pleasure," Karga grinned. "Is it true wives put off their armour when they decide to have little warriors?"

Baast snorted. "Di'kutla. Anade knows gar ke barjurir gar'ade, jagyc'ade kot'la a dalyc'ade kotla'shya."

Din couldn't help but chuckle. "She says, foolish. Everyone knows you train your sons to be strong, but your daughters to be stronger. My woman is all warrior."

The words slipped out, and he couldn't bite them back. Baast's hand dropped from his nape, but only to lower and slide in at his waist, sneak past layers of beskar and again find flesh barely covered. She pressed closer, a low rumble vibrating between them, and Din felt approval wash from her like a wave.

"Ibic taap, Ni cuy' bat Kyr'nakil," she murmured, low enough only Din heard, informing him she didn't like it there.

He looked down at her, into the deep shadows of her hood as she clutched Grogu to her and found her eyes. This place had her on edge. With her Force sensitivity, he believed her, but he wanted to know why. "Tion'jor?"

"Too many bad feelings," she whispered. "There are hunters, many of them."

He gave a small tilt of his head. "Vaabir val olaror par gar?" he asked, wondering if they came for her.

A slight negative shake. "For news of the child."

Din was instantly enraged and leaned over the table toward Karga. "You're taking a bounty on the kid again?"

"What? No! Of course not!" the man cried in outrage.

"Mando." Cara laid her hand over his. "He hasn't, I swear."

Baast growled, causing Din to move his hand out from under Cara’s and block Baast in the same action. "There are hunters here for news of the kid. Get your cargo off my ship so we can leave." He swiped the credits off the table and turned to go, Karga already barking orders.

Din wasn't surprised when Baast's fingers snuck to the crook of his elbow. Or, he wasn't as surprised as he should be. A riduur walked where her mate could protect them and any children they might have. Her position kept her secure against him while hiding them behind a wall of beskar and weapons, handled by a highly dangerous predator.

"Mando, wait," Cara said, blocking their path. "Come to my place. You can rest, eat, and I can see the kid. I missed him."

Baast's fingers twitched.

"Cara," he hesitated.

"Please. We're friends. Let a friend toast your good fortune."

Another low warning growl rippled from Baast when Cara touched his arm.

"She has nayc staabi!" Baast snarled.

Din looked down at her. "Technically, neither do you."

Her hand snapped off his arm like he'd burned her, shock and disappointment so profound it hurt, hit him like a rampaging mudhorn.

She took a step in retreat, Grogu clinging to her, the kid looking just as devastated.

What had he done? Kriff! Why would he say that?

"Baast!" he shouted but was too late as she spun on her heel and raced from the cantina. "Kriff!" he bellowed and gave chase, Cara hot on his heels.

"What the hell was that, Mando?" Dune demanded as they slammed through the doors only to find a deserted street.

"Not your concern."

"Mando!" She grabbed him by the vambrace. She had no way of knowing how close he came to putting her through the wall. "What's really going on? Who is she?"

"You wouldn't understand. It's a Mandalorian thing." He shook her off and looked for Baast's tracks.

It didn't surprise him at all when they went up a wall and over the roof.

Din took off after her, climbing as if his armour weighed nothing, leaving Cara behind to curse and swear. He followed long strides for some distance as she ran across roofs, finally leaving the residential district to head into a more industrial area.

Again her tracks went up, and he followed, climbing the narrow ladder to the top of a tower that looked out over Nevarro. He found her there; knees pulled to her chest, the hood thrown back, clinging to Grogu as the kid did his best to stroke the tears from her face.

"Baast."

She jerked but didn't move. "Go away, Mandalorian."

"I can't." He went to her and knelt, intent on taking her in his arms, only to have deadly claws close around his throat.

"You have not the right," she snarled, her eyes piercing him through the beskar.

Grogu huffed and sighed, appearing at once both annoyed and exasperated.

"Nayc staabi. No right, that's what you said about Cara."

Baast snarled. "If you want the shock trooper so badly, have her!" she snapped, pushing him back with strength, causing him to rock on his heels.

"I don't, and she doesn't want me. She would be more inclined to go for you," he chuckled.

She blinked big green eyes. "Oh…" Her hand slowly relaxed until it lay on his chest.

This time when he gathered her close, she didn't resist. "Forgive me. I said something stupid."

"But true," she sighed. "You did not dispute the claim of riduur. I knew it meant nothing but got caught up in my role. You are free to do what you wish with whomever you wish," she sighed.

Din didn't think. He didn't plan his next move. It was like instinct demanded he act, and so he did.

"Baast. Close your eyes."

She did so without hesitation or question as Din stripped off his gloves. The helmet hissed when he released it, causing her brow to twitch. Before he took it off, he wrapped his arm around her and covered her eyes with his hand.

"Din?" she whispered, her uncertainty clear.

"Trust me," he murmured, lifting his helmet free with his other hand. They were too high up for anyone to see, and the moons had yet to rise, leaving them bathed in shadows.

Grogu cooed and sat down a few feet away, apparently content to let the adults sort this out on their own.

Din gave him a last look before setting his helmet down and raising that hand to lightly, tenderly, stroke her face. "I don't want just anyone," he whispered, unable to deny what was written in his heart. "Just you," he sighed and lightly brushed their mouths together.

He'd never kissed anyone before, but he wanted to kiss Baast.

***

Din woke with a jolt and a clang of beskar as he fell out of the pilot's chair and onto the floor.

He lay there confused and disoriented until he realized the entire thing had been a dream.

He groaned softly enough that it didn't leave the safety of his helmet and pushed to his hands and knees before sitting back on his thighs. This trip was going to kill him. The dream had been far too real.

He picked himself off the floor and looked up to find Grogu smirking at him. "Don't start."

The kid gurgled a noise that shouldn't in any way have been cute but somehow still was.

"Hungry?" Din asked.

Grogu waddled closer, arms up.

"Of course you are. When are you not hungry?" he chuckled, picking up the kid and heading for the ladder down into the belly of his ship.

He was just getting Grogu situated when the door to the fresher opened, revealing Baast in nothing but a towel.

She jolted in surprise. "I did not expect… you… I…" A bright blush bloomed darkly across her cheeks. Then, she straightened, lifting her chin like a royal, firming her composure. "You have not joined us for meals as of late. I did not expect you and have washed my clothing."

His mouth was desert dry when he attempted to speak, but no words emerged, and Din was grateful for the helmet that hid his gaping mouth. He stared for too long before stepping away from Grogu and his gruel toward Baast. She stiffened, hand flexing where she clutched the cloth closed, but the Zentari didn't back down.

Din moved with cautious steps to the crates piled against the wall and shoved two over before picking up the third and setting it down on top of the others. From within, he pulled out blue silks. "I have this if you want it."

A regal brow arched, her wet hair sleek and sticking to her now brushed the tops of her thighs. "Why does a Mandalorian have a courtesan's dress in his belongings?"

He flinched, having hoped she wouldn't recognize it. "Because an assassin dressed as a courtesan attempted to kill me, but not until after she'd taken her clothes off."

Baast eyed the cloth a moment longer before gliding forward to pluck it from his fingers. "Did she succeed in the seduction?"

"No. That's why she was naked. She made a poor courtesan."

"Hmm," purred from her as she walked back into the fresher, and the door closed behind her. "And you have simply kept it lying around?" she called through the door.

Did she sound jealous, or was he still dreaming? "It's not something a Mandalorian can walk into the market and sell without garnering a second look."

"You were not, perhaps, keeping it for your riduur?"

The door opened, and Din forgot how to speak. Blue silk fell in sleek lines from the golden band that bared the under curve of her breasts. She swept out and headed for Grogu, sailing past him, her damp hair leaving a dark stain on the skirt.

"I haven't thought much about a riduur." Before now.

He followed her like a Bantha would a Tuskin Raider, and when she sat to help Grogu with his food, Din came to a stop behind her.

She looked up, but he knew the beskar made it hard for her to read him. "Is it that terrible? Do I not make a passable courtesan?"

"More than passable," escaped his mouth, his brain still malfunctioning. "But your hair is dripping."

"Wet hair does that," she teased him with a smile.

"May I?"

She blinked as he began to strip off his gloves. "Din?"

"Let me," he murmured, running his fingers like a comb through her thick locks. He sat on a crate and worked free what few tangles had formed before splitting the mass in half. He began the plait high, working it smooth against her scalp and down behind her ear. When his fingers brushed the pointed tip, a shudder raced through her, but a low, happy purr followed. He made it to the end and used a scrap piece of leather to bind the long braid.

"How is it that a Mandalorian knows how to do a woman's hair with the skill of a maid?"

He froze, fingers full of sand-coloured silk. "My mother," he murmured. "I once did it for my mother."

Her hand closed gently on his knee, Baast reaching back, otherwise staying still for him. "A good memory, I hope."

"One of my only good memories," he murmured, finishing the section close to her skull and swiftly plaiting the rest. Once he tied the end, she turned to look up at him and left him breathless.

He'd never seen a more mesh'la creature. Men would spend their entire fortune for one night with her. But Din looked at her and saw her dressed in the ornaments of a riduur. Beskar bands for her braids, the cuff that would circle her upper arm and proudly display the mark of the mudhorn, proclaiming her part of his clan. The beskar breastplate that would be hers the moment their first child was born.

"Then, I am pleased to help you remember it." She stroked one of the thick plaits. "I am happy to offer myself to your ministrations in the future, should you so desire to assist me again."

Vital portions of his anatomy tightened, causing him to rise swiftly and step away from her tempting allure. "We'll be in Nevarro soon. I'll see about more suitable clothing when we get there."

He climbed the ladder back to the cockpit, knowing damn well he was running away.

***

riduur - spouse

Usenye! - Go away!

Udesii - Calm down.

Ibic taap, Ni cuy' bat Kyr'nakil - This place, I am on edge

Tion'jor - why

Vaabir val olaror par gar - do they come for you

nayc staabi - no right

***

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#star crossed:bound by blood #star wars #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x ofc

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