#half of the scenes are repeating themselves its just the same stupid shit | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wornoutmouse · 4 years ago

Text

Bakugou Birthday Bash

Yall already know, we gon act like i aint disapear

I got 40 different things that I’m writing about right now but I got to get something out for fireball here. I KNOW I’M LATE ASSHATS CALM DOWN!

Fun Fact: Guys play with our nipples cause they think they feel the same as theirs. This isn’t true because a guy’s nipples are 3 times more sensitive than a female’s.

Fun Fact 2: Getting your cervix hit during intercourse is only pleasurable to VERY few individuals and overall causes pain or discomfort to the majority.

Exhibitionist, 3-some, rough sex, train, consent is sexy, slight dacryphillia

You could feel your heart beating with anticipation, in your mind, you repeat the same mantra over and over again. “This is for Katsuki.” Currently, Bakugou, Kirishima, and yourself were having a movie night. You had spent the day with Katsuki dragging him throughout the city taking him to various places for his 25th birthday.

In the morning, you made him breakfast in bed consisting of smiley face porridge with the eyes being eggs, smile being bacon, with sausage eyebrows. Bakugou was not amused, to say the least. Afterwords you did his hair separating the blond hair into two braids marveling at the black streaks intertwining themselves. “Do you like it?” Bakugou sleepily grunts, burying his face into your cleavage when you finished. “I just want to go back to bed.”Shaking your head you grab your outfit and walk towards the bathroom. “No can do Kats, I go the whole day planned for you, this isn’t going to be like your last birthday.”

After going out to the shooting range, a nearby spa, and having brunch at his parent’s place much to his distress. “Katsuki put a smile on your face for once, you know you love my Unagi!” You laugh as you watch Bakugou pout at the feeling of his mother ruffling his hair. “Shut it old hag..” His father only chuckles before resuming his conversation with you.

When you finished the reunion, you drop Bakugou off at home before going to pick up Kirishima. As you drove back, you could tell Kirishima could sense your nervousness. He placed a hand on your thigh to get your attention, “You know that you can always opt-out of this, I don’t mind we can just have a normal movie night. “This” was a plan that you had both been creating together.

Ever since high school, you knew Bakugou had a soft spot for the redhead going far past causal friendship. And it wasn’t until last year that you accidentallt heard Bakugou mumbling his name in his sleep accompanied by soft moans. At first, you understandably felt a bit jealous despite being in a relationship with Bakugou for the last 6 years but as you thought about things more and more, a mischievous thought came to you, now leading up to the current moment.

“I’m fine Ejirou, this is just something I’m not used to.” you exhale and smile a bit more determined after saying your doubts out loud. “But I can’t back out on my own plan.” Kirishima flashes his signature shark tooth smile before facing forwards again. Now, with both of you sitting with Bakugou in between, the tension was high in the air and it was up to you to make the first move.

“This movie is stupid, why would she even run after him after he called her stupid!” “Uh, Bakugou, you call me and Y/n stupid all the time?” Bakugou huffs leaning back on the couch. “Yeah but that’s different...you are.” You would have laughed if you hadn’t decided to make your move. You rest your arm on Bakugou’s shoulder playing with his braid that had long since frayed from your day’s activities.

He pays no mind, eyes focused on the corny romance movie he rented from Redbox. The movement of bright yellow catches Kirishima’s eyes as the TV screen flashes white from a scene change. He decided to take the more direct approach by putting his hand on Bakugou’s thighs and squeezing the skin there. Katsuki’s hair skips from your grasp as he twitches from the contact. “Hey watch your hands shity hair.”

Kirishima hums but doesn’t move his hand. You allow silence to go on for a moment as Bakugou gets back into his movie. When Bakugou relaxes enough, you snake your hand to his crotch and squeeze his dick through the pants. Bakugou’s attention lands on you almost immediately as his hand clamps down on your wrist. You ignore the tight grasp and rub your thumb over his dick, feeling it twitch with nervous interest.

Bakugou leans towards you harshly whispering, “What are you doing idiot, Ejirou is right here.” You bite your bottom lip before whispering back your reply, “Well you better be quiet then don’t you think Katsuki?” Ruby eyes glared at you but the blond remained silent before gripping his braid nervously. He bounces his left leg as you resume your light teasing and does his best to focus again.

You notice Kirishima’s movements and feel adrenaline run throughout your body. Kirishima does the same as you, whispering in Katsuki’s ear, lips only a breath away from touching skin. “Hey Bakugou, we should have brought some snacks don’t you think? I’m kinda hungry.” Underneath your hand, Bakugou’s breathing falters, “Ah, yeah well you should have brought your own snacks I’m not getting up from here.” Kirishima peeks at you from behind Bakugou’s head sending you a wink.

Rubbing his wrist Kirishima pulls a hair tie from his arm and puts it between his teeth. At the same time, you unzip Bakugou’s pants and make direct contact with his cock. Kirishima focuses on how Bakugou’s adam’s apple bobs when he makes eye contact with him. Bakugou’s eyes watch as Kirishima’s muscles ripple as he ties his hair up into a bun and you resist the urge to laugh as Bakugou’s dick goes full mast making a smacking sound as it hits his stomach.

That seems to bring him back to reality and he quickly covers himself when he catches Eijirou staring at his exposed groin. “Ah shit, what the hell Y/N!?” Bakugou jerks his head towards you accusingly, cheeks red with embarrassment and teeth bared in anger as he prepares to chew you out. Your hand, now resting behind Katsuki, motions Kirishima to Bakugou’s dick as the blond chews you out. “Are you trying to make me fucking upset-ah fuck!”

With one hand by his face to tuck stray hair behind his ear, Kirishima uses his other hand to hold Katsuki’s shaft, hollowing his cheeks around the rest of his dick. The look of confusion was forever present as Katsuki tosses an apologetic look at you willing his eyes to focus despite the sudden onslaught of pleasure. “Sh..Shitty hair what the hell do you think you’re fucking d-doin?!” Bakugou’s hips jerk up as he rises to the top of his toes. He places his hand on top of Kirishima’s head but not to pull him away as he tried to make it seem.

Eijirou jerked his cock delicately before mouthing at Bakugou’s balls that tightened underneath his lips. “I don’t...Y-Y/n fuck, I’m sorry...ah..its....I...feels so damn good1” Remorseful moans leave Katsuki’s mouth as his eyes screw shut. You push his hair away from his face in order to see him better. The hand you had laying in his lap is grabbed and gripped tightly almost as if he was afraid to let go of you.

With his head tossed back, you take the initiative to bite his neck softly, drinking in the whimpers that exit his mouth. “Relax and enjoy your birthday present Katsuki.” You turn on a table lamp and slide to the floor, pulling Kirishima down with you. With the lights now blazing, Bakugou could no longer chalk up the current situation as a really bizarre dream as took in the view of both of you occupying his lap. Kirishima abandons his cock for you to take care of as he slides his tongue up Bakugou’s toned stomach.

“Relax Bakugou and let us take care of you.” Katsuki helplessly grips Kirishima’s shoulder with gritted teeth. “Get your fucking mouth off my nipple asshat...it feels fucking weird.” Both you and Kirishima chuckled at the insults Bakugou attempted to use to hide his embarrassment. Kirishima moans obnoxiously as he rolls Bakugou’s nipple with his tongue before biting down. “You two planned this didn’t you?”

Bakugou’s usual attitude came back before you could even notice and by the time you did, it was too late. The hand that was previously caressing your head tightened against your scalp and you were soon being pushed down Bakugou’s cock. Kirishima looked down at the sound of you choking, eyes going wide at your puffed cheeks and teary eyes, but it was too late for him as well. Kirishima’s man-bun was grabbed and yanked giving Katsuki access to his neck that he abused with bites. “Fucking assholes had me over here confused and shit all for your little birthday present.”

His strokes were slow and torturous to your throat, grinding slowly inside before stopping and holding your face there just to feel your mouth constrict due to limited oxygen. “And how long have you known shitty hair? Tell me the truth and I’ll give you a reward” Kirishima (the snitch) winces as his hair is pulled again. “About half a year.” Bakugou hums and kisses Kirishima. Through watering eyes, you watch as Bakugou forced his tongue inside his best friend’s mouth. “Good boy.” Looking down at you, you feel a shiver go throughout your body and you could tell you were in for a rude awakening.

“Is it safe to assume that you were the source Y/n?” Your forearm is grabbed and you are out on top of Bakugou’s lap. “Yes.” Your answer is rewarded with a slap on your covered ass. “I’m gonna make sure you regret that. Both of you, take off your clothes.” Pouting you poke Bakugou’s chest, “No, that’s not how this is going to work, we both wanted to make you feel good.” Bakugou raised an eyebrow before looking at Kiri who shakes his head innocently disagreeing in order to save his own skin.

“You are gonna make me feel good.” Bakugou slides his hands under your shirt pulling it off. “I’m going to feel so good watching you two break.” Bakugou caresses your chin placing a ginger kiss on your chin before pushing you off. “Now take these damn clothes off.”

You and Eijirou watch him leave the living room and go elsewhere, “We really are in for it aren’t we?” You nod solemnly, “There is nothing good coming out of our bedroom. I'll tell you that Kiri.” Kirishima sat steadily, face and shoulders painted red with a warm blush, “Well at least he took it well.” you jokingly slap Kirishima’s shoulder to ease the throbbing feeling in the pit of your stomach. The male’s eyes look at the hand on his shoulder for a moment, contemplating his next move. You watch, heart rate increasing at the serious look the normally smiling man held. Kirishima grabs your hand and places it over his chest, sliding it down his abdomen effectively bringing you closer to him.

When you were close enough, you and Eijirou lock lips passionately. His right hand held your face gently as his left pulled your lower body towards him. Your mouth consumed the moans Kirishima let out as the tip of his cock caught the rim of your belly button. When you pull away, one of Kirishima’s shark-like teeth nips into your lower lip, drawing blood. The look of you out of breath, chest swelling, and plump kiss-bitten lips turned Kirishima on more than he thought he could be. “She’s sexy without even trying huh?”

Bakugou’s gravel-like voice startles you both, Katsuki walked closer before squatting behind you. Your afro is drawn back by Bakugou and he forcefully kisses you, exploring your mouth feverishly leaving you unable to keep up. You are the one to pull away when you become out of breath and allow yourself to be manhandled against Katsuki’s chest while he leans against the couch. Scarred hands spread your legs exposing you to Kirishima who had no problem ogling you. “You see how wet she is for you shitty hair, don’t let my presence stop you.”

Eijirou scoots closer on his knees, grabbing your legs. When he brings his face closer, Katsuki spreads your pussy lips apart with his index and ring finger, stroking your clit with his middle finger. You sigh into the feeling before jumping when Kirishima slaps your cunt, “Look at that she’s quivering.” Eijirou hikes your legs over his shoulders, burying his face in your warm cunt without a care about your juices covering his face. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking incessantly at the small nub, heightening your pleasure.

Reaching past you, Bakugou holds Kiri’s head and presses his face down into you, “Get in there Eijirou and quit playing before I kick your ass out.” You squeeze your eyes shut as a warm muscle pushes its way inside your needy hole. Your back arches and Bakugou is forced to hold your legs open lest you close them shut on Kirishima’s head. Bakugou leaves tender kisses behind your ear, rubbing your legs tenderly. The touches sent feelings like electricity through your core and you felt your blood race as you came closer to orgasm.

Kirishima laps at your pussy once more before pulling away, leaving you on the very edge of your release making you whine. “She’s so sweet Katsuki.” Kirishima whimpers softly, before messily kissing Bakugou. Their tongues wrapped against each other as they share your taste. From the small of your back, you could feel Bakugou grind his hips against you. You reach your hand down to finish yourself off but without even looking your hand is grabbed by Kirishima who instead guides you to his throbbing cock.

It was red, most likely from the light teased your living room carpet caused while he was eating you out.The groan that you rip from Kirishima as you stroked him, shocked both you and Katsuki.

Kirishima stops the kiss, leaving a strand of saliva connecting the two. Kirishima’s red eyes narrowed at you as he spoke to Bakugou, “F...Forgive me Bakugou, but I need to be inside someone or someone inside me before I burst.” Bakugou smirks holding your chin so you can look at him, “What do you think princess?” You look at Kirishima who indeed looked to be on his last straw with a smirk. “It’s your birthday Katsuki, you should get first pick.”

Bakugou furrowed his brow more than your thought possible, “You sure you don’t mind?” Playfully biting his cheek you give a reassuring smile, “I planned this baby, if I mined, we wouldn’t be here.” Bakugou grunts in response, giving you time to get off of his lap before pushing Kirishima onto his knees, “Hey asshole, remember that time you painted my gauntlets purple?” Kirishima smirked, “You still mad about that? Lavender is your color Bakubro.” Katsuki glared at the redhead, slapping his ass, “Don’t call me that when I’m going to be balls deep inside you.” Looking back over at you, Bakugou gets an idea, “Stop twiddling your fingers and making me feel bad and get over here.”

You did a shit job at hiding your happiness as you cutely scooted towards the two males. “Shitty hair, you’re going to fuck her while I fuck you, and if you cum inside I’m going to blow your ass off the face of the earth.” It took until Kirishima was positioned over you and Bakugou had taken place behind him that Kirishima finally realized the reality of Bakugou’s threat. “Wait a second, how do you expect me not to cum from all the stimulation?!” You watched Bakugou shrug over Kirishima’s shoulder, “Not my problem.” A disgusting squelching sound is heard and you feel Kirishima shiver as he laid over you. “Have you done this before Katsuki?”

Bakugou was silent and Kirishima’s eyes widened and you quickly grab his face to avoid his fear-stricken expression reaching the excited blond. “He’s got this Kiri, trust me, can’t be any different than normal anal right?!” Kirishima rested his head on your shoulder, kissing the skin there, “Is this you telling me you’ve done anal before?” You both laugh, having a moment of comfort despite the strange situation. “Mmmm.” Kirishima hums quietly, vibrating against your skin, you could feel him rocking against you and most likely against Bakugou’s fingers. “Ahh, fuck~”

“You good Eijirou?” Bakugou rests against Kirishima’s body, biting his shoulder blade. “Y-yeah, I’m good.” Reaching in between the two of you, and you felt him lining himself against your opening. “Ah, you’re...you’re not wet anymore. I’m sorry.” Kirishima puts his fingers in his mouth, briefly stopping to whimper loudly around them, “Ah there it is.” Bakugou smirks from behind Kirishima, and judging on how much Kirishima starts to shake, he repeatedly abuses said spot. It is then your turn to feel pleasure as Kirishima takes the task to finger you open.

You raise your legs and wrap them around Kirishima’s back to get a better angle and the room is mostly silent besides the obvious noises of prep. Something that made both you and Bakugou dawn a notable smirk was how loud Kirishima was being compared to the rest of you. From Bakugou’s end, Kirishima was fucking himself back on his fingers sucking them in greedily, hips rotating just to be able to feel his prostate being stimulated again. From your end, Kirishima’s hands shook as he tried to angle himself inside of you so much so you had to help him. “I’m so damn close, fuck. Bakugou you gotta give me a moment man!”

Both you and Kirishima moaned when Bakugou smacked the red head’s ass causing his hips to jerk forward. “You better hold it in, I haven’t even started yet dumbass.” Kirishima grunted as Bakugou penetrated him. “Y/n, I can’t, fuck I can’t!” Eijirou had his eyes clenched shut. Bakugou snapped his hips against him, making Kirishima fuck you as well, “Come on Eijirou, you can do it, you feel so good.”

Kirishima’s cock curved right, making your toes curl from the stimulation. Bakugou held onto Kirishima’s hips hard, most likely to leave indents later on. Kirishima propped himself up on his elbows and thrust into you, simultaneously meeting Bakugou’s thrusts. “Y/n, you feel so damn good. So fucking w-warm!” You bear down on Kirishima’s cock, squeezing around him. “Why are you talking so much Eijirou, you close to cumming?” Kirishima narrowed his eyes at Bakugou’s taunt, “Fuuck, Y/n why does it feel like he’s getting harder, eveRy time.” The sound of Kirishima’s voice cracking was comical yet arousing.

Your fingers curl on Kirishima’s back as his thrusts got sporadic occasionally thrusting so hard he grazed your cervix, causing brief discomfort. “Your so damn tight, Eijirou, damn!” Bakugou’s stomach contorted with each thrust, feeling Kirishima’s hole constrict around his cock at every drag. It was as if Kirishima was simply a doll between the two of you, that you used as a stress ball. Kirishima was loud at this point, gripping the sheet around your head hard enough for him to rip even without activating his quirk.

Wordless babbles, left his mouths, his eyes rolled behind his head, as Bakugou speeds up. “You should see the look on his face Katsuki!” Kirishima kisses you roughly as a way to combat your teasing. His tongue lazily roams your mouth, lips vibrating at the broken moans you both let out from Bakugou’s brutal onslaught.

Kirishima quieted, your ears barely picking up on him muttering ‘fuck’ repeatedly. “B-Bakugou, stop, I’m gonna cum, let me pull out.” Kirishima tosses his hand back, brushing it against Bakugou’s abdomen in an effort to slow him down. “What nonsense are you speaking Eijirou? We aren’t stopping till I cum” Bakugou grabs Kirishima’s struggling arm, and holds it behind his back. The rest of Kirishima’s weight flops down on you creating sweet friction against your clit, and Kirishima’s modestly trimmed bush of hair. You hold Kiri closer with your legs as your orgasm builds to greater heights. “But you said-” “I know what I said dumbass, and it still stands. Now shut up and take it.”

Eijirou moans as Bakugou speeds up his thrusts. Bakugou holds him down by his shoulder no longer giving Kirishima space to even thrust into you. Bakugou relents on thrusting and instead relies on the sheer force his weight caused every time he slammed down on Kirishima’s hips. “Bakugou-” “Shut up for fuck sakes!” Bakugou clamps his hands on Kirihsima’s mouth and nose, cutting off his hair flow. You grab “Katuski’s hair and pull him towards you in a violent kiss.

You make a sound of alarm at the feeling of warmth feeling your body. Bakugou uncovers Kirishima’s mouth feeling him tighten so hard around his dick and Bakugou cums as well after a few weak thrusts. Kirishima had tears of overstimulation flowing down his face, mouth open as he continued to pump hot cum into your hole. “Damn you really couldn’t hold on huh?” Kirishima shook his head, clearly on cloud nine, still filling you with so much cum, you contemplated on taking to brands of birth control. Bakugou looked down at you, watching as you pet Eijirou’s head reassuringly. “Did you cum?” You shook your head, kissing Eijirou’s temple.

Bakugou nodded before jerking Kirishima’s legs pulling him out of you at the same time making you both hiss from the pinch-like pain. Bakugou turns Kirishima on his back and helps your straddle him. Staring up at you with wide eyes, Kirishima felt like prey under the watch of hungry lions.

“What...what’s going on guys?” Your thumb rubs over Kirishima’s hardened nipples, watching his toned belly contort from the external stimulation. “Kiri..” you pout your lips mockingly before grabbing Kirishima’s cock that laid limp against his stomach. His red eyes followed your body down to your pussy. You rubbed his dick over your cunt, hovering over him. His hips twitching when your thumb presses down underneath his girthy head.

“I haven’t came yet.”

#bakugou smut #kirishima smut #kiribaku x reader #black reader smut #mha black reader smut #birthday smut

1K notes · View notes

leviackermanscleaningbuddy · 4 years ago

Text

BTS DRABBLE-Jeon Jungkook

You never expected to see him again-let alone date him-but here you are, five years after first meeting him, and now you’re pretty sure you’re in love with Jeon Jungkook. He’s always been sweet, and clever, and somewhat quiet, and he’s definitely always been this good looking, however, there’s something different about him now-and it’s not that he’s really into Tiktok challenges and speaks all the millennial slang fluently. No, it’s something you can’t quite put your finger on. Something that makes you more intrigued in Jeon Jungkook than ever before. The same something that seems to have him staring at you intently whenever he thinks you’re not looking, as if he’s just waiting to kiss you- or more accurately, to taste you.

Tags: BTS, Bangtan Boys, Bangtan Seonyendan, Bulletproof Boy Scouts, Beyond the Scene, BTS Drabble, Fluff, Jeon Jungkook, BTS!Vampires, Bangtan!Vampires, Vampire AU, Vampire Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook x you, Jungkook x reader,

Genre: Fluff

Title: Theories of a Vampire

“Do you want a sip of this? It’s really good.” You ask your boyfriend as you take another sip of your iced mocha latte, tilting your head in his direction, offering him a mischievous smile as you shove the drink toward him.

“Ah, no. I’m good.” Jungkook hurries to say, and his tongue slides out to wet his lips, as he glances away from you and stuffs his hands into his hoodie pocket. “I’m not thirsty.”

“Suit yourself.” You shrug and take another gulp of the drink, sliding your hand into his-icy fingers cold against his own which are long and warm in your grasp-as you continue to walk through the park.

It’s a pretty day. Warm, the air losing a bit of its chill, and you’re glad you had agreed to skip the last half of work to spend it with Jungkook.

Speaking of.

Glancing over at your boyfriend once more, his brow furrowed as if he’s lost in deep thought, you nudge his side, and when he finally focuses back on you, you raise a brow at him curiously. “You okay? What are you thinking so hard about?”

“Nothing.” He shrugs off your question and reaches up to scratch at the back of his neck with his free hand, a nervous tic he always did, and had done since you had first met him in your biology class freshman year of college.

You pull him to a stop, and shoot him a stern look, as you toss your now empty cup into a nearby trash can. “Jeon Jungkook. You’re worried about something. Tell me what.”

“I’m not worried per say-” Jungkook starts to protest, and at your fierce expression, backtracks slightly, letting out a defeated sigh as he glances up at the filtered sunlight streaming down on the two of you. “Okay, fine. It’s a big deal for the hyungs to invite you to eat with us, and I’m just nervous okay?”

You arch a brow at him, and reach out for his free hand, taking both in your own, as you pull him toward you, and lean up to press a quick kiss to the end of his nose. “Why? You think they won’t like me? Come on, Kookie, what’s not to like?” You tease gently, fingers stroking across the skin that covers the backs of his knuckles as you wait for his reply.

“Of course they’ll like you.” Jungkook blurts out, and he screws his eyes shut momentarily, wrinkling his nose in the adorable way he does when he’s agitated, the way that makes him look like a bunny. He opens his eyes once more, and looks down at you, before he sighs and admits quietly, “I’m not worried about you. I’m worried about me.”

His statement is odd, but you don’t question it. At least not out loud.

Because Jungkook has changed a bit since you first met him-changed a lot actually.

When the two of you had met that fateful day in biology class, becoming lab partners first, and then friends later, Jungkook had been introverted, but polite and sweet and someone you wanted to befriend. He had stuttered his words when he was nervous or excited and had had the biggest, brown, doe eyes you had ever seen.

And now-years later-after losing contact and reconnecting and discovering that there might be some sort of truth to the bullshit that is best friends to lovers tropes-Jungkook was not the same.

He was still sweet and quiet and thought before he spoke, and he still stuttered when he got excited, but he wasn’t the same boy you had met all those years ago.

No, something was different about Jeon Jungkook-he was heavier, a little more serious, and definitely more responsible than before-and you attributed most of those changed personality traits to simply maturity and growth.

However.

There was something about Jungkook-the new Jungkook-that had you constantly fighting the urge to be with him constantly-like a moth drawn to a flame. The way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t watching-those big, doe brown eyes large and dark with blown pupils and some sort of emotion that made your stomach warm pleasantly with desire-it was dangerous.

And you were helpless in the face of whatever it was. Whoever he was.

You pull yourself back to the present, only to find said subject of your deep thoughts watching you in the way you had just been imagining, and you have to look away, look at something else, before those endless eyes swallow you whole and you lose yourself completely.

You clear your throat, and tug at his hand, resuming your walk through the park. “Kookie, you live with them. They’re your roommates. I’m sure they won’t judge you if you act a little stupid around your girlfriend.”

“Wait. I act stupid around you?” Jungkook jogs to match your pace, and you hear the offense in his voice, as you tuck your emerging smile back behind the barrier of your lips and turn to face him, walking backwards, as you force down a giggle at the affronted look he gives you.

Damn. He’s so cute.

“Only sometimes.” You quip back, and as he opens his mouth to protest once more, you reach out and tap the end of his nose with your fingertip, effectively shutting him up, as you let out a laugh and continue walking, swinging your joined hands between you.

*******

The first thing you think as Jungkook pulls you up the sidewalk toward his apartment later that night is-Holy shit, what do these guys do for work?

Because this is not a typical, six guys living together out of college, run down, bad neighborhood housing unit.

No, this is a penthouse, in a gated community, and you’re fairly certain there’s the shimmer of a pool out back beneath the moonlight.

The second coherent thought you have-as Jungkook leads you inside, and you’re greeted by his six male roommates is-Holy shit, how are they all so hot?

And you’re pretty sure your mouth is gaping open as each of them greet you and introduce themselves in turn, before escorting you both to the dining room-an actual old timey dining room-where dinner waits.

And now, here you are, sitting at the long table with Jungkook on your right and one of the boys on your left-the one who seems to be just the right mix of extremely handsome and mischievous, Taehyung?-raising a bite of the opening course of soup to your lips.

Damn. It’s delicious.

Your eyes go wide, and the man across from you-the blonde one, tall and looking like a movie star, Seokjin?-offers you the hint of a smile, as he arches a brow in your direction and asks, “Enjoying the food, (Y/N)?”

“Immensely.” You say, and you can’t stop yourself from taking another bite.

Seokjin chuckles, the sound pleasant and soothing, and then bows his head slightly in your direction, and you can’t help but notice how small the spoon looks in his large fingers. “That’s a compliment then, so I should thank you.”

“You made this?” You blurt out before you can stop yourself, and a few of the other boys stop mid quiet conversations to glance over at you with amused expressions on their beautiful faces.

You blush, but luckily, Jungkook comes to your rescue, his hand finding yours beneath the table, as he leans over and says proudly, “Jin-hyung is one of the best cooks around. He can make anything taste great.”

“I believe that.” You nod, already hungrily diving back into the delicious bowl of soup before you without a second thought, missing the look of fond amusement that crosses Jungkook’s dark eyes as he watches you.

Also missing to note-perhaps more important-that your bowl of soup is the only one that seems to be lessening in contents.

*****

Later, you are sitting beside Jungkook on one of the couches in the den, legs crossed beneath you, as you sip some sweet, candied cocktail Seokjin had made you all, and as the alcohol warms your veins, and the men around you chatter and laugh quietly amongst themselves, you feel slightly more comfortable than you had at the beginning of the night.

“So.” You glance over at your boyfriend, as his arm comes to rest on the couch behind you, and he eyes you over the cocktail glass still held to your lips. “What do you think?”

“What do I think?” You repeat back, lowering the glass, and your voice, as you scoot into his side, and lean your head on his shoulder, surveying the room for a moment before answering. Dammit. They’re all still too handsome for your liking. You’d thought a few drinks would tone down their good looks just a little. “What do I think?” You parrot once more, and jab Jungkook in the side, as he yelps and winces beside you. “I think you should have warned me that all your roommates are just as smoking as you, Jeon Jungkook.”

You grin at him, ready to make a teasing jab about how they may be even more handsome than him, when the two of you are interrupted by Taehyung plopping down on the couch beside Jungkook, jostling you both.

“Come on, Kookie.” The older man practically whines, throwing his own arm around the younger boy’s shoulders, as he leans around his broad form and flashes you a charming smile. “You can’t hog all of (Y/N)’s time. You get to bask in her beauty all day every day. Let some of us have a turn.”

You bite back a grin, because you’ve met men like Kim Taehyung before. They are irresistibly charming, and smooth, and all together too incredibly hot to exist, yet you know they mean no harm with their slick words and damning good looks.

“Ask away, Hyung.” Jungkook sighs between the two of you, and leans his head back on the couch in a gesture of defeat as he motions to Taehyung. “I know you’re going to question her anyway. Get it over with.”

“Yah. That’s a good boy.” Taehyung slaps Jungkook’s shoulder, and the sound is solid, and you don’t miss the way Jungkook winces under the powerful looking show of brotherhood as Taehyung leans out once more to make eye contact with you. “So, (Y/N).”

“Yes, Taehyung?” You shoot back, not intimidated by his presence or confidence now that you’ve had a few drinks in your system.

Taehyung grins, and you note a slight hint of approval in his dark eyes, before he curbs his expression and steeples long fingers before plush lips. “How’d you and Kookie here meet?”

“College.” You say simply, shrugging, as you set your empty cocktail glass to the side, and glance at Jungkook, whose dark eyes are full of dread, as if he’s waiting for his hyung to ask something ridiculous and embarrass both of you. “Freshman year.”

“And you’re just now together?” Taehyung asks with shock in his deep tone, eyes widening slightly as he glances between the two of you, as if he can’t believe it took you so long to realize you were interested in each other.

“Well, yeah.” Jungkook shrugs now, a blush darkening his cheeks, and he bites his lip in that way you love, though right now, it’s less cute and more worried, as he chews his bottom lip between his teeth. “We lost touch for awhile.”

One of the other men-the smaller, petite one, who looks too pretty to be real, Jimin?-appears behind Taehyung and perches himself on the arm of the couch, listening in on your conversation with a cute, delicate tilt of his head that sends his dangling silver earrings tinkling in a fairylike way.

Taehyung snorts in amusement at Jungkook’s words. “So what you mean to say is you were too much of a dense idiot to notice her sooner.”

Jungkook straightens beside you and glares at the older man, and suddenly, you’re slightly worried he might deck him, but luckily, Jimin jumps into the conversation just in time.

“Tae.” He slaps the man’s shoulder, and Taehyung glances back at him, as Jimin’s features contort into a look of disapproval. “Don’t tease Kookie.”

“Fine.” Taehyung sighs, and you are surprised how easy it was for Jimin to put him in his place, considering Taehyung is probably three inches taller and at least ten pounds heavier than the fairyesque man sitting on the arm of the couch.

Jimin offers you a smile, and you don’t miss the way his eyes crease with the expression, as he says in a soft, lilting tone, “It’s nice to meet you, (Y/N). We’ve heard a lot.”

Jungkook blushes once more beside you, and you laugh at his obvious discomfort, reaching out for his hand which is still balled in his lap.

“What we haven’t heard though-” Taehyung leans forward again, once more on the attack, and offers the two of you a raise of his brow and the slight hint of smirk on his full lips. “Is if you guys have done it yet.”

“Taehyung.” Jimin sighs in exasperation and rolls his eyes.

“Hyung!” Jungkook almost shouts out, drawing the attention of the older men, conversing with each other about something in the other corner of the room. His face reddens, and he lowers his voice, hissing out, “You can’t ask stuff like that.”

“So that’s a no?” Taehyung quips, settling back into the couch, his legs crossed, as he regards you both with an air of amusement and aloofness. He holds your gaze, and you don’t back down, as his eyes move over your face, before he states suggestively, “Well, be careful when you do, (Y/N). Jungkookie’s really into biting.”

And then he has the audacity to raise his brows at you in a gloating smirk, and send you a wink from across the couch.

“HYUNG!” Jungkook is practically fire red now, and you are trying to hold back a laugh, knowing he’s legitimately embarrassed now under his roommate’s constant teasing.

However. There it is again-buried deep within the black of his pupils-the look of absolute guttural want that sometimes washes over Jungkook’s features when he thinks you’re not looking, flashing across his irises at his roommate’s words.

“Do you always ask all of your roommates girlfriends these types of questions?” You retort, suddenly desperate to ignore the flaming feeling Jungkook’s brief express had lit in your belly, raising a curious eyebrow in the now lounging Taehyung’s direction.

He flashes you another wink and a boxy smile. “Only the hot ones.”

“Taehyung.”

A deep voice sounds behind you, booming in the small space, and you jump slightly, whirling around to see Namjoon standing, arms crossed over his chest, shooting a serious look at the younger man.

“That’s enough.”

Taehyung pouts, but ducks his head to the older man and grumbles out, “Yes, hyung.”

You had been right about the aura you got from Namjoon from the beginning after all. He’s beautiful, and tall, and has the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen, but his features are set in a serious, mature way, and now-seeing how Taehyung reacts to his commands-you know that he’s the one in charge, at least in this house.

“I hope they haven’t pestered you too much, (Y/N).” Namjoon motions toward Taehyung and Jimin, and offers you the hint of what you think is a smile, revealing a hollow dimple in his upper cheek, which catches you off guard.

“Not at all.” You stumble over your words in your hurry to answer him, because the man standing before you makes you feel small and obedient and it’s almost as if your brain is begging to do whatever will please him. “It was all in good fun.”

Namjoon nods, and then glances over your head, addressing your boyfriend. “Jungkook. It’s getting late. You should probably see (Y/N) home.”

Jungkook rises without argument. “Right.”

You are shocked, you have never seen Jungkook so quick to do what someone asks, and as you pull on your coat and say goodbye to each of the six men with who you have spent the evening, there is a part of you that wonders if roommates are not the only thing these men are to each other.

*******

It is several days later, sitting in your own lackluster apartment, that you find out the truth to your questions from the night spent with Jungkook and his six mysterious, all too good looking, roommates.

“(Y/N), come here for a sec!”

You hear Jungkook calling to you from down the hallway, and pushing your reading glasses atop your head, and setting aside the work you are plugging away at, you follow his voice to your bedroom, where he is laying on the bed, staring at his phone.

“What?” You ask, leaning against the door frame, letting yourself admire for a moment the swath of tan skin that peeks from beneath his hoodie, stretched across his muscular abdomen.

“Do this TikTok trend with me.” Jungkook replies without looking at you, swiping through something you can’t see on his phone.

“Kookie, no.” You complain, crossing the room to plop down on the bed beside him, as you glance at what he’s looking at. Some sort of new TikTok video with fang filters and gold eyes.”You know I don’t like being in your videos. I don’t want to.”

“Come on.” Jungkook looks at you then, wide doe eyes dark with pleading, lips pulled into his teeth in a pout expression that makes you weak at the knees. “Just this once. Please?”

You try to resist. You really do. But dammit, you can’t say no to those large eyes, rimmed with dark lashes, staring at you in such a way.

“Damn you, Jeon.” You grumble out, and Jungkook grins triumphantly, because at those words and the sullen expression on your face, he knows he has won.

You lie down flat on your back beside him on the small bed and squint your eyes as you glance up at his phone, your own face suddenly reflected back at you in garish light.

“What do we have to do?” You ask reluctantly, careful not to stare at your reflection too long, instead, choosing to glance at Jungkook’s face shown back to you on the camera, the way his dark, long hair shadows his eyes, the way his pink lips are pursed as he gets the angle just right.

“It’s really simple.” Jungkook shifts beside you, and his long finger taps the phone screen, placing the filter over the video, before he glances to the side and shoots you a grin-a grin so soft and excited that you can’t help but melt into the idea of the video just a little bit. “Vampires are really in right now. And basically, this filter shows you what you’d look like as one. See?”

He shifts the phone-still held above your heads-and you glance at the two of you, now with gleaming golden irises and long sharp fangs that poke past your overly red lips.

“I hate this.” You sigh out, and Jungkook chuckles from beside you, shifting the phone so that the filter falls away from you both for a moment, as he rises to his elbow beside you on the bed.

He smells good-like cologne and fresh, clean linens, and the shampoo he uses in the shower.

“C’mon, jagi. Just one video. For me.” Jungkook’s lips twitch, as if he wants to smile a the pout that comes across your features. He leans down and surprises you by kissing you briefly on the lips. “I promise if you do this with me, and be a good sport-” He adds, giving you a pointed look, as you sight once more. “I’ll make it worth it.”

“How?” You quip back, though your stomach is fluttering at how close he is, and the buzzing hasn’t left your lips from when his mouth covered yours for the briefest of moments. You swallow, and try to look anywhere but those eyes-eyes that make you want to fall in and never come back out. “You’ll buy me boba?”

“Yes.” Jungkook nods, agreeing too quickly, and reaches out to tap the end of your nose with his index finger, an odd look coming across his face. “Among other things.”

Before you can ask him what he means, and why his words have suddenly sent your heart racing, he is lying back down beside you, and holding up the phone once more. “Okay, let’s go.”

The video clicks to life, the filter turning you both into sad replicas of the vampires from Twilight, and Jungkook grins in his reflection on the screen, as he tilts his head toward you and asks, “What do you know about vampires, (Y/N)?”

“Yah.” You scoff and roll your eyes, but remembering his promise, force yourself to look into the camera and continue with the video. “You didn’t tell me this was a pop quiz, Jeon Jungkook.”

“It’s not.” Jungkook shrugs beside you, and you have to admit, his white teeth flashing behind pink lips look oddly enticing with the sharp points of the fangs pricking the plush skin. “It’s just for fun. Vampires. Go.”

You sigh, but do as he asks. “Fine. Vampires.” You hold up your hand for the camera to see, and begin ticking down fingers as you list in a slightly flat, bored tone. “Vampires are allergic to garlic.”

“Wrong.” Jungkook pipes up beside you, and you are startled, so much so, that you lose concentration and flick your eyes to him, forgetting about the video momentarily.

He raises a brow at you and motions with his head toward the phone, as if telling you silently to go on.

You try to refocus, stuttering slightly over your words. “Okay, um, vampires can’t enter a house uninvited.”

“That’s not true either.” Jungkook interjects, and you flash him a glare, warning him to stop interrupting you, and wondering how he knows all of this enough to argue with you.

“Fine.” You hiss out, and your eyes flash beneath the gold of the filter, as you turn back to the camera, starting to rapid fire off the rest of your list so your boyfriend can’t stop you to tell you how wrong you are again. “They can’t tolerate holy water, crosses burn them, sunlight hurts their skin, they can morph into bats, and they have no reflections.”

You catch your breath, confident that you’ve beat him.

“Inaccurate, false, entirely a myth, purely laughable-” Jungkook starts to list point blank from beside you, and you can feel the daggers you throw in his direction, as he pointedly ignores you and finishes up his smug commentary. “And last but not least, stupid as hell.”

He turns to you, and meets your gaze, dodging the daggers completely before he shoots you a shit eating grin.

“Fu-” You start to swear in frustration, and then you hear the video sound signal that the camera has been turned off.

“You can’t swear in my TikTok video, babe. What will my followers think?” Jungkook, who has come to a sitting position beside you, looks over at you with dramatically horrified eyes and a berating smirk on his face, a look that you’d like to wipe right off his lips.

“You asked me what I knew about vampires!” You protest hotly, coming to a cross legged position beside him, as you run a hand through your hair with jerky agitation. “And then you basically told me it was all bullshit!” You take in a deep breath, feeling yourself calm slightly. “Which is true, I guess, because vampires aren’t real, but still.”

“I mean-” Jungkook finishes up doing something with the video and then locks his phone, tossing it onto the nightstand, as he meets your gaze once more, with a suddenly thoughtful look crossing his features. “Technically, not all of it is bullshit.”

“Oh really?” You let out a humorless bark of laughter, and cross your arms over your chest as you glare at him. “Please. Tell me what’s true then.”

“Vampires can’t cross running water.” Suddenly, Jungkook looks sheepish, and though the expression is cute, and softens your ire toward him, you’re not sure why. “That’s true.”

“What?” You ask, slightly dumbfounded, staring at him. “That’s a thing?”

“Yeah?” Jungkook asks, a slight question, confusion crossing his pretty features once more at your look of surprise. “You didn’t know that?”

“I mean-” You shrug, and suddenly you’re on the verge of laughing. “No? I guess I never got around to studying vampire theory when we were in college.” You quirk an eyebrow at him, sitting silently across from you on the bed. “But apparently you did. How do you know all of this? Is my boyfriend secretly a closet nerd?”

“I-” Jungkook starts to say, and then his words falter to a stop, and as you watch, his eyes get that look again-dark and slightly wild and hungry-and his gaze falls down your face to your lips in a way that has your heart pounding against your rib cage like a trapped bird. “(Y/N), there’s something you need to know.”

“Okay-” You say, suddenly nervous, but unable to think or even wonder what he’s going to drop on you when he’s still staring at you as if he’s starving and you’re the last meal in the world.

“I-” He starts again, and your eyes follow the movement as his tongue darts out to wet his lips, leaving them red and shining, and your heart more breathless than ever. He reaches up to rake a hand through his dark, thick hair, and his movements are agitated, which doesn’t seem to fit the mood that fills the air between the two of you.

“Just don’t-” He tries again, and huffs out a frustrated sigh, meeting your gaze once more, and suddenly the tension between you is gone, his wide eyes back to normal. “Just don’t freak out, okay?”

You swallow, and your fingers start to fiddle with the blanket between the two of you, your heartbeat loud in your ears. “Okay.” You say, for the second time, in as many minutes.

You watch as Jungkook takes in a deep, steadying breath, and you prepare yourself for the words, ready to hear the words, ready to feel the cut.

He’s cheated on you. He’s breaking up with you. He’s found someone else. He’s in love with Taehyung, or Jimin, and hell, who would blame him?

“I’m a vampire.”

Your eyes, screwed shut and waiting for the bomb, come open so fast that you feel dizzy for a moment, and you’re pretty sure your jaw drops to the floor.

And then, you’re laughing, because you’re sure he’s joking.

“No, seriously, Kookie, funny joke, but what is it?” You reach out, shoving him playfully in the shoulder, relieved laughter still trickling from between your lips.

“I am serious.” Jungkook watches you laugh, confusion on his face at your reaction.

“Vampires aren’t real, babe.” You manage to straighten your face and turn to him once more, eyebrows arched curiously as you stare at him. “What are you talking about? You’re joking. Right?”

The silence grows between you after your question, and suddenly, your heart drops into your stomach.

“Wait-” You begin to say, inching away from him to the other side of the bed, because suddenly, you’re very worried that Jungkook isn’t right in the head. “You really think you’re a vampire?”

“I am a vampire.” Jungkook sighs out impatiently, reaching up to pinch his nose briefly between his thumb and forefinger, as he closes his eyes and takes in another deep breath. “(Y/N), that’s what I’m telling you. When we lost touch-”

“No.” You stand up, suddenly shaking your head, your heart still pounding, but for a different reason now. “This is crazy talk, Jungkook. You can’t be serious.”

“I am.” He stands and you square off across from each other in your small bedroom, the late afternoon sun shining onto the carpet and creating patterns in the space between you. Space that feels too far to overcome. “I’m not making this up, jagi. After college, I got into an accident and Namjoon found me and-”

“Namjoon?” You scoff out, not believing your ears, as you stare at your boyfriend incredulously. “Now you’re trying to tell me your roommates are in on this crazy bullshit too?”

“They’re not my roommates.” Jungkook replies seriously, eyes holding yours, pupils large and black. “They’re my coven. They took me in after saving my life by turning me.”

“Nope.” You pop the word past your lips and push past him toward the open door. “I’m out. You’re crazy, man.”

You hear Jungkook follow you down the hallway toward the bathroom.

“(Y/N), will you please just listen to me-”

“Get out of my apartment, Jungkook.” You shout back, reaching the safety of the bathroom,, already moving to slam the door shut on his face, but managing to get out through the shrinking crack, “Don’t come back until you’re ready to stop being insane.”

You wait to hear the door crash into the lock, the sound of the clicking doorknob sealing you into the room, the final thump of Jungkook’s feet as he walks away and leave.

But none of that happens.

Because Jungkook has blocked the door from closing with his hand, and holy shit, is he strong.

“Jungkook-” You warn, pushing against the door, as he manages to push himself inside the small bathroom with you. “Get. Out.”

“No.”

You look up at him in surprise-you’ve never heard him this serious, this firm before-and his eyes are dark, and his lips are set into a thin line, hand still holding open the partially closed door, wide shoulders filling the frame.

“What?” You gasp out, anger starting to bubble its way into your chest.

“I said no.” Jungkook repeats and takes a step toward you, backing you toward the bathtub that takes up one side of the room. “I need you to listen to me.”

“I am listening to you!” You shriek, almost hysterical, as you feel your back hit the dingy, thin fabric of the shower curtain you and Jungkook had bought together at a local secondhand store. “You’re not listening to yourself, Jungkook. Because all this talk is batshit crazy.” Your knees hit the edge of the hidden tub. “Vampires?” You stare hard at him, and he’s so close, you can smell the hint of his soap. “Accidents? Covens??”

“It’s true! All of it.” Jungkook blurts out, and his voice is frantic now, and pleading, as his eyes rove the space of the shower behind you, as if searching for a way to show you. “I’ll prove it to you!”

“How?” You exclaim sharply, tired of this game.

His doe eyes scan the room, and then he points to the shower, which you have almost entirely wedged yourself into with his forward advance, and his face brightens. “The shower.”

“What about it?” You ask, and the situation would be comical, the two of you breathing hard and jammed into your tiny bathroom, if it were any other situation. Anything but this. Still, a little bit of the humor sneaks into your next words as the start of a hysterical laugh. “Are you going to

Jungkook ignores you, reaching over your head for the handheld shower head, simultaneously using his other hand to turn on the hot water.

He holds the now running head out to you expectantly, and states quietly, firmly, as if his words should mean something to you, “Vampires can’t cross running water.”

You scoff, arms still held at your sides, and when you don’t move, your boyfriend closes the distance between you, and shoves the shower head into your hands.

“What are you-” You start to protest, already feeling the water soaking your socks and puddling on the cheap tile of the bathroom floor, but before you can finish your sentence, Jungkook is stepping toward you once more.

He reaches out a hand, and you note his fingers are trembling, which seems odd, but before you can think about it too much, his hand flattens against an invisible barrier, fingers splayed now for you to see, as he meets your gaze once more.

“That doesn’t prove anything, you could be faking.” You snap out, although suddenly, your heart has sped up in your chest, and your own hand is shaking, making the water from the shower trail crazy patterns on the floor at your feet.

You shove your own hand out toward Jungkook-a little too hard-and he winces slightly as you jab him in the face.

“Sorry.” You apologize, pulling your hand back, and study him for a moment. “Do it again.”

“Look.” Jungkook sighs, and stepping toward you once more, holds out his hand, pressing it up against the invisible glass pane, before he shifts his whole body up against the barrier. “I’m not faking, (Y/N).”

And suddenly, your breath is catching in your throat, because even through the steamy bathroom, you can see. You can see that the way his clothes fold, and the way his fingers splay, the way his hair flattens against his forehead, as if pushed against a window, is not fake.

And that means-

“Holy shit.” You breathe out, lowering the shower wand, as you stare at your boyfriend, water puddled around your feet, mouth open in shock. “You’re a vampire.”

He offers you the hint of a crooked, humorless smile. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

*******

Jungkok sighs from beside you, and turns his head to look at you, for what feels like the fifteenth time in as many minutes. “Will you stop staring at me?”

“Sorry.” You shrug, propping yourself up on your elbow, as you reach out to poke first his cheek, and then his lips. “It’s just so fascinating. Like. You’re a whole ass vampire. My boyfriend. The vampire.”

“Stop saying it like that.” Jungkook groans, throwing a hand over his eyes as you giggle in amusement. “Stop saying it like it’s my superhero name or something.”

“Fine.” You grin, reaching out to push his hand away from his eyes, before you let your fingers fall to his mouth, flipping back his lip slightly, so the start of his white teeth show, as sudden childish excitement fills your tone. “Can I see your fangs?”

“Really?” Jungkook asks with exasperation, propping himself up beside you, as he shoots you a look of slight frustration.

“Yeah!” You nod, bouncing beside him slightly on the bed. “That’s like, the biggest thing to being a vampire right? I wanna see them!”

“I mean, not the biggest thing-”Jungkook starts to grumble beneath his breath, but you’re on top of him, straddling him so your knees hug his hips, and your hands sink into the pillow beneath his head. He looks up at you, eyes wide, as if startled, and when he speaks, his voice is slightly choked. “What are you doing?”

“Do you wanna bite me, Kook?” You ask, mostly teasing, staring down at him with as mischievous look as you can muster. You don’t allow yourself to focus on how his firm body feels beneath your own. Or the fact that you’re both crammed into the space of your tiny bed, so close that you can see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes.

“No!” He blurts out, almost panicked, and you feel something like disappointment drop into your chest at his reaction, and you make a move to release him from beneath you.

But then, his fingers are encircling your wrist, stopping you from pulling away, and you’re caught off guard, as he reaches up with his free hand to caress the side of your face.

“I mean-” Jungkook speaks again, his voice barely above a murmur, and you’re pretty sure you’re having a harder time hearing him over the sound of your blood suddenly rushing in your ears. He bites his lip, teeth stark against the soft pink flesh. “I didn’t mean that. That was a lie.”

You try to force a lightness back into yoru voice, a lightness you don’t feel, with the air practically crackling with electricity between the two of you. “You’re telling me that was bullshit, Jeon?”

He nods, and you see the way his throat bobs as he swallows. “Yeah, that was bullshit.”

“Why?” You breathe out, every last inch of teasing leaving your body as that look-the look that makes you feel weak and dizzy and hot all at once-floods fully into the caramel irises of Jungkook’s eyes, turning them dark and dangerous and entirely too tempting.

“Because-” He matches your tone, words barely audible above the pounding of your heart, as his hungry eyes fall once more to your lips, and then down your throat. “I want nothing more than to taste you, (Y/N).” His chest, steady beneath your body, heaves as if he’s trying to catch his breath. “I’ve wanted nothing more since I saw you again-that day in the park. The way you smell, the way your pulse flutters beneath my touch, the way your heartbeat sounds-too loud in my ears-it all drives me insane, and I swear, I’d kill for a chance to bite you. Just once. But I-”

Jungkook shakes his head as his words trail off, and his pupils constrict a bit, enough to show a ring of color around his eyes once more.

“But what?” You ask, and your mouth feels dry, because you’re scared of what he’s going to say. You try lightness again, because you’re both struggling. “And don’t give me some Twilight bullshit, Kook, because I swear to God I’ll kill you. And then break up with you.”

He huffs out a strained laugh, mouth tight, and worried wrinkles around his eyes, and his fingers loosen slightly on your wrist, as he reaches up once more to brush some stray hairs back from your face. “Nah, like I said, most cliche vampire myths aren’t true, and definitely not the ones perpetuated by Twilight.” He sighs, and sucks his bottom lip in between his teeth. “I can control myself, I won’t hurt you, I won’t turn into an animal. One taste won’t give me an insatiable thirst for human blood. It’s nothing like that.”

“So what is it?” You ask, suddenly curious, trying to focus through the feeling of his fingers now dancing patterns on the bare skin of your side beneath your shirt.

“I-” His mouth drops open, allowing the word to start, but not finish, and he rolls his eyes, suddenly self deprecating. “It’s stupid actually.”

You stare at him, and when you don’t say anything, waiting for him to continue, he lets out another long sigh and then reaches up to rub at the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze.

“It’s just that-” He swallows again, and you find your gaze drawn to his lips, the way they move to form his words, the way they would fit perfectly around a pair of long white fangs, the way they would feel against your skin, and you’re so distracted, that you almost miss what he says next. “You’re my first.”

“What?” You ask, pure confusion lacing your tone, as you force yourself to meet his gaze once more, a gaze now awash in worry and embarrassment. “Your first what?”

“Oh god, don’t make me say it, jagi, please.” Jungkook groans out, reaching up to swipe at his eyes with his hand, as a blush paints the tan skin of his cheeks. “You’re my first......bite.”

“Really?” The word of astonishment pops out before you can stop it, and the pink on your boyfriend’s cheeks darkens beneath the cover of his hand. You clear your throat, composing yourself, and reaching out to remove his hand, try a different angle. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so surprised. It’s just-” You think hard about your words for a moment before continuing. “Haven’t you been hungry?”

“Can we not talk about details?” Jungkook pleads, putting a palm over your mouth, as if he physically doesn’t want you to ask questions. “The hyungs kept me fed. I’m fine.”

“Okay.” You drawl out from behind his hand, and he must feel the smile starting against his skin, because he pulls away from you, but you stop him by pinning him beneath your body, as you hold his gaze. “Fine. So let’s not talk then.”

Your eyes follow the bob of Jungkook’s throat as he takes in the full meaning of your words, and behind the slight uncertainty that flashes across his eyes, you see something else.

The desire.

You lean down, and your lips are almost brushing when you speak again, and the heat in Jungkook’s eyes, alighting the gold specks, is causing coils of anticipation in your core.

“Do you want to bite me, Kook?” You ask once more, completely serious this time.

His tongue licks across his lips, and the warmth of his breath washes across your face, as his eyes fall to your mouth, barely centimetres from his own.

He nods. “Yes.”

“So stop thinking-” You let your fingers run up the skin beneath his shirt, and he tenses beneath you as your lips find his between each of your words. “And just do what comes naturally.”

You run your lips across the corner of his mouth, and arch your body into his, angling the juncture of your throat beneath your jaw so that it brushes across his lips and the tip of his nose.

Jungkook lets a groan slip from between his parted lips, and his fingers find purchase at your hips, breath hot on your skin, teeth grazing your throat as he murmurs against you, “Shit, your heartbeat is so loud.” A hint of teasing seeps into his next words, though he’s slightly breathless. “Is that for me?”

“I mean-” You pant out, having to choke back a moan, your words stuttering to a stop for a slight moment, as Jungkook sucks open mouthed kisses down the column of your throat. “If you want it.”

“I do.” Jungkook’s voice is low now, a growl, and you start slightly as you feel a sharp prick against the flesh of your throat, at the juncture of your jawline.

“Are those-” You start to ask, and move as if to pull away, the sudden heat of the moment suddenly taking a backseat to your burning curiosity.

Jungkook groans, and not in pleasure this time, as he stops you from moving away from him and when he speaks, his voice is full of exasperation, lips still brushing the skin of your neck, and though you can’t see his expressions, you can practically imagine him rolling his eyes. “Please don’t tell me you’re tying to see them. Not right now.”

You hide a grin. “Okay. Sorry.”

“Now.” Jungkook’s fingers curl around your chin, and he makes you meet his gaze, irises almost completely swallowed up in the black of his pupils, as he tilts your head slightly to the side, fingers stroking over the fluttering pulse point beneath your jaw. “I believe you said this was for me?”

You feel breathless, and lightheaded, and the way he’s looking at you is making it hard for you to think again and all you manage to get out is a dumb sounding, half affirmation in response, “Mmmhmm.”

He smirks at you, and his fingers play along the crease of your collarbone, tracing the outline of the hollow at the base of your throat. “Remember, this is my first time, so be patient with me, yeah?”

“This is my first time.” You quip back, though you don’t sound fierce, you sound breathless. “So be gentle.”

“You know what they say.” Jungkook grins now, and you finally, finally get a look at the coveted fangs as they flash blindingly white in his mouth, and dammit all, if they don’t make him even more sexy. “Practice makes perfect.”

Damn Jeon Jungkook. Damn Vampire Jeon Jungkook

*****

“Hey, it’s Kookie!”

Taehyung crows the greeting as soon as the two of you walk through the door of the penthouse, and flinging his arms around the two of you, envelopes you both in a bear hug.

“Glad you guys could make it. Life has been so boring since you moved out.” Taehyung continues on, dragging the two of you behind him toward the dining room as he talks incessantly over his shoulder, as if he’s been starved for conversation. “You guys down for dinner and drinks and games?”

You glance at Jungkook, and he shrugs in response. “Yeah, hyung, sounds fund We don’t have plans.”

“Wait.”

Taehyung stops dead in the entrance to the dining room and whirls to face the two of you, eyes narrowed, as he looks you both over suspiciously. “something’s different here.”

Jungkook instantly stiffens beside you, and you feel his fingers curl nervously against your palm. “I don’t know what you’re talking about hyung-”

“WAIT.” Taehyung leaps toward you, making you step back nervously, as his fingers find your chin and wrench your head to the side. “Aha! I knew it!”

You know exactly what he’s looking at.

The almost healed puncture wounds that dot the side of your throat.

Courtesy of one Jeon Jungkook.

“Hyung.” Jungkook whines, as if begging his older friend to remain quiet in the matter, a blush already darkening his cheek at what’s coming.

“I KNEW YOU TWO DID IT.” Taehyung pats your cheek a little bit too hard in his excitement, before crushing Jungkook to him with a few hearty slaps on the back. “Congrats!”

Jungkook rolls his eyes at you over his friend’s shoulder, and you stifle a laugh, because no matter how much Taehyung embarrasses him, you know he means well.

Taehyung releases Jungkook and turns back to you. “Told you he was into biting.” He winks at you slyly, a smirk lighting up his handsome features.

“Hyung.” Jungkook’s voice has risen an octave, and his cheeks are on fire.

“You know-” Taehyung motions over his shoulder at Jimin, who has now joined you in the doorway, come to see what the hold up is. “We’re into biting too.” He shoots you a completely wicked grin. “Let us know if you ever wanna join us.”

“Taehyung. That’s enough.”

Namjoon’s voice thunders from the dining room beyond, and Taehyung, barely phased, rolls his eyes at you, before he turns and slings an arm around Jimin’s shoulders to enter the dining room.

But not before giving you one last conspiratorial wink.

“You’re not really considering that, are you?” Jungkook hisses beneath his breath as you start to enter the dining room behind the other men.

You shrug, hiding your smile. “Who knows?” At the look of panic that crosses his face, you laugh, reaching out to tap the end of his nose with your finger, before leaning in to kiss him. “Just kidding. But I am into biting too, you know.” You shoot him a suggestive grin.

Jungkook rolls his eyes and pinches the back of your hand where it rests in his, making you laugh once more as you take your seats at the table.

“Just promise me two things-you’ll only ever be into biting with me." He points to himself, a slight smile starting to lift the corners of his lips. “Because another vampire myth that I forgot to mention that isn’t bullshit is that we’re insanely jealous.” He ticks another finger at you, and now he’s grinning in that way you love, with his nose scrunched and his eyes turning into half moons. “And, number two, you’ll never use the shower head as a weapon when I’ve done something to upset you.”

You squeeze his hand where it rests under the table. “Promise.”

122 notes · View notes

redxblueihateloveyou · 4 years ago

Note

THANK YOU for saying all of that about the sk8 fandom. I think it's mainly because it's a young fandom with a lot of young people, but yeah, they have zero chill. It gets kinda annoying when you actually stop and think about the show and realize that a lot of things are just,,, not the way they think they are/should be

Also, I have compared some Reki and Langa scenes to rinharu scenes, but it's mostly because I see them and think "nice reference Utsumi" because they remind me of them so much, but to say RL are in the same level as them, or any other couple they've compared then to is kind of a stretch. Reki and Langa are, at best, a very very tame version of any of those, and while is see why they would focus a lot more on the puppy love thing they have it really pales in comparison (although they don't really compare it to free! because they're so hellbent in calling it queerbait as though half of the scenes they claim are so romantic did not also happen in there before, because they really don't understand how romantic coding works in anime).

Anyway, your blog is amazing :)) You always come off as a very smart person who is also just so done with people's stupidity and I'm 100% here for that haha

Haha no problem, needed to get it out of my system anyways. It’s true, but also once again being young shouldn’t always mean you’re that stupid, let’s be real here. And if you are that stupid, they need to know about it at least, so next time they’ll maybe think twice before saying stuff they say.

Their main problem these days is their herd feeling, it’s like one says smth stupid, others, having no brain of their own, repeat it and here’s what we have at the end. A whole field of a damn cicadas meaninglessly shrilling.

It would be much more entertaining if they’d have enough brains to at least not put sticks in their own wheels, but they sadly don’t, so taking them down isn’t even satisfying. Not to mention the fact that you don’t even have to do anything, sooner or later they’ll embarrass themselves, cause the combination like “a sense of self-importance we have, but real life experience and brains we don’t have” leads to a disaster. Tiktok won’t help you with everything and half of them don’t even know what they’re talking about in most cases, they only love throwing loud words trying to scare easily impressionable ppl these days, cause everyone is like “I don’t wanna be cancelled so I won’t say anything” lol.

They just do not get that when you start smth like this, same as with a good lies, you gotta be smart. Like ok, they don’t distinguish real life from fiction, fine, but they can’t even check the age of the characters of their other ships before yelling “pedo” about others, so idk what to say here really. I just truly feel bad sometimes about even saying smth, bc like maybe just let them be, imagine the embarrassment of being this stupid? Who even puts them in charge of other ppl’s money idk.

Yeah, I understand I compared the scenes, too, it’s inevitable, cause they’re all there haha. I was like “our” and thats also “ours” lmao. What I do not get is why would you compare them as if they have the same relationship depth (like high schoolers who have known each other for a month and a couple who knew each other for 7+ years and who planned their future together) or say that the reasonings behind the character’s behavior are same, when they’re entirely and I mean ENTIRELY different. It’s like not even anywhere near same. Like the comparartion of their break up with 13 year old Rin just hit me too hard, I was like.. let’s just not, not pls haha I’ll write a damn essay, but pls it hurts my soul seeing this. And comparing their fist bumb (ai, excuuuse me, eternity sign) to victuuri exchanging rings, I was just on the floor seriously. I just can’t handle the fandom of this pairing, it’s too weird for me. Logic left the chat on their tag and holy shit they’re blind to everything. I’m even glad I’m not into this pairing, cause I feel kinda sad for normal ppl who are into it, bc its like entering a kindergarden. Llike an absolute zero connection to reality, reading too much into things and all the chastity belts in one place, I was like... oh damn I’m too old for this shit and even if I was invested I’d probably still run away haha.

I’m really happy that you enjoy the blog! Thank you so much <3 Haha I have zero tolerance for stupidity, true. It’s such a bad quality tho, I sometimes suffer a lot just by seeing smth and be like “I can’t, I just have to say smth, I just have to, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to sleep, it’s that stupid” lmao.

And sometimes part of me goes like “you know it’s pointless, it’s like talking to a tree”, but other part of me is like “no, it talks, and it means I can shut them up” lol. But I truly don’t get why ppl listen to this and indulge them seriously. Like I know stupid ppl prevail in this world in general, but like in fandoms they’re pretty easy to dethrone, if you bring up the right arguments. And I know in rare occasions, when you really cut them deep, they tend to attack in large groups like locusts, but it’s not like they can eat me through a computer screen, so idk. If I’ll get invested in that one ship after s12 I just might poke them a bit more out of spite lmao.

But also they are kids really, I mean, you can scroll through the tag and know for sure that like “yeah, that’s kid’s perspective”. Most of them didn’t even reach the age of the characters they’re watching things about, but like to pretend that they know stuff and most these days don’t have enough additional knowlenge to be smarter than their age, cause they are too busy well, tweeting about the stuff they know nothing about, so it’s kinda not really enjoyable to talk to them since I’d rather discuss it with someone who at least was in high school already and you know, not extra lol.

I’m just kinda upset that it turns out to be a kids fandom, that’s all. Cause like chats and dms and sisters are great, but like I want the tag to look hella different, seriously. Bc I’m interested in characters and relationships complexity, not pink vomit. Well, you know the enjoyment of a great fandom. It’s a bliss. I have those thankfully haha.

#answered #anonymous #anime

8 notes · View notes

phcking-detective · 5 years ago

Note

UH 💚

💚 drunk kiss

***

Nines leaves the bullpen. It is getting far too loud and crowded, nearly every human and android in the building crowding around the lieutenant's desk to see the box of puppies he and Connor brought in to the Christmas party in order to encourage adoption.

There were six puppies. Now there are only four. Leaving to track down the errant two is as good as an excuse as any to leave.

It's not that Nines dislikes the adolescent dogs necessarily. He simply doesn't see any particular appeal, certainly not to the point of baby-talking and enduring urine accidents.

The missing puppies are easy enough to track by the stray fur and one little repeating paw print. Apparently, one of the puppies had stepped in another puppy's urine puddle and has tracked it along its route into … the breakroom.

Having heat vision also helps. That's what initially alerts Nines to the possibility that the puppies' escape attempt included human help. There is one human heat signature sitting in the corner of the breakroom, with one small puppy heat signature laying beside them. The second puppy heat signature is a bit more difficult to pick out, given that it appears to be in the human's lap, and therefore blurs into the human's own heat signature.

Nines enters the breakroom to find the puppy-stealing human has turned the couch over onto its side, then shoved it over to form the hypotenuse between the two walls of the corner where they're hiding.

It does seem to be a fairly effective method of puppy containment.

But Nines so focused on locating the puppies that it isn't until he physically enters the breakroom that he registers the voice of the human inside the makeshift barricade.

"Hey, puppy, hi puppy, who's puppy? Who's puppy? You're puppy!"

"Detective Reed?"

Nines would honestly be more likely to believe Sixty has kidnapped the puppies, mimicked the detective's voice, and lured him into a secondary isolated location in order to deactivate him than consider the possibility of his asshole human partner being …

"Fuck off you uppity GPS!"

No, that is his partner.

"Why have you abducted two adolescent dogs, Detective?" Nines asks, approaching the couch.

"They're called puppies, dipshit."

Nines peers over the edge of the upturned couch to see Gavin sitting in the corner with one puppy in his lap and another puppy waking up from a nap at the arrival of a new person. The puppy in his lap squirms around to face Nines and frantically wiggles its entire body in greeting. When Nines continues to observe them without physical interaction, the puppy begins to whimper.

"Aw, hey, it's okay, s'okay, I love you," Gavin tells the puppy.

Nines calculates the possibility that this is all a simulation put on by Cyberlife, or perhaps an errant virus contracted from interfacing with a deviant android witness.

The second puppy puts its paws up against the back of the couch to get a little taller and sniff at the air. It barks at him.

"Why have you abducted these puppies, Detective?" Nines asks.

"Weren't fucking treating them right," Gavin mutters, hugging the puppy closer. "Did you hear what Hank said about naming him Major?"

Nines silently shakes his head.

"Major pain in his ass," Gavin quotes, then scowls. "It's not his fault! He's just a baby. It's not his fault he cries when he's alone and gets jealous of the other puppies and isn't as smart. He just wants someone to love him, he's a baby."

To Nines's shock, the detective's tear ducts engage at the end of his defense. He sniffles and clears his throat, not looking at Nines.

He has heard the many indictments against the puppy named Major. Connor confided in him that he would be difficult to home. Out of the six puppies, this one has the worst separation anxiety, often peeing and chewing on things if left alone, to say nothing of the barking and howling. He also caused problems back in the bullpen by howling repeatedly whenever he felt another puppy was getting more attention than him, which was the majority of the time, considering there are five others.

And he hasn't even begun to understand any of the commands Hank and Connor have been gently introducing to the puppies to prepare them for another home. The others all at least have some concept of Sit, Come Here, and staying still for grooming. But this puppy just seems … a little stupid.

Yet Detective Reed, the least understanding human in the entire precinct, [loves] him.

Meanwhile, the other puppy jumps and attempts to scramble up the back of the couch, but of course it can't find any purchase to do so. It slips back to the floor, but seems neither injured nor perturbed by the failure.

"That one doesn't like to be touched," Gavin explains while Nines watches the antics. "Everyone kept trying to grab her and hold her, and it was stressing her out. She was about to start biting, and then they'd be all, oh she's a bad puppy, she's aggressive, even though they're the ones that fucking messed with her."

Nines notes his LED spin yellow.

"So yeah, I grabbed them and got them out of there." Gavin glares up at him. "I can give Major all the attention he needs, and the girl-puppy can be left alone."

Nines does not criticize his decision. He can't. He's too busy analyzing, calculating. He does not have a social module, not like Connor. Not like bright, happy Connor, who always knows what to say and what facial expression to make, and even when he doesn't, it's [cute] instead of [creepy] and he doesn't understand why.

Maybe it is simply in comparison. Any mistake or flaw of his predecessor automatically looks lesser in comparison to how [wrong] RK900 always is.

And the attempts to help.

"Help."

Humans insisting on shaking his hand, trying to grab his arm or his shoulder, taking it upon themselves to teach him to "hug" and "smile."

Connor insisting they interface to deviate him.

The whispers and the stares, the only android who hasn't deviate, the poor machine.

He has remained partners with Detective Reed despite the human's poor attitude first and foremost due to their unrivaled amount of cases solved, but Nines admits a secondary benefit is in fact the human's poor attitude. All the yelling and cursing and throwing things keeps the other humans at bay, and if Nines simply orbits closely enough to Gavin, he stays within an ironically protective circle where the only person he has to deal with is the detective himself.

Which actually hasn't been so bad. He can simply disable his audio processor to ignore the worst of the yelling, and it is not as if any of the name-calling or swearing actually hurts his non-existent feelings. He returns in kind with [decaying meatsack] and [unevolved flesh monkey], their bickering cooling down to a more routine banter.

But he had always considered that an incidental benefit. It never occurred to him that his partner could be smart enough to--to notice. To …

Help.

"Oh shit, hey," Gavin whispers.

Nines refocuses on the scene before him: the girl-puppy has discovered that she can wedge herself between the end of the couch pushed against the wall to half-climb, half-shimmy up a little farther. Gavin slowly moves his knee over until it's right underneath her kicking leg to give her better support until she eventually manages to scramble all the way up on top of the couch.

Of course, this amount of attention paid to the other puppy sets Major off on another crying fit, but Gavin quickly assuages him once the girl-puppy is safely on solid footing.

The girl-puppy runs over to the middle of the couch looks up at Nines. He stares back down at her. She sniffs at him, then barks again. She hunkers down, paces back and forth, and looks up at him.

Nines kneels in front of the couch so that he is--

The girl puppy jumps onto his shoulder and scrambles on his slick Cyberlife jacket, biting his ear and hanging onto it. Nines reaches up and holds his arm underneath her the way Gavin did so she can steady herself. She gets her feet beneath her and stands on his shoulder.

"What does it want?" Nines asks Gavin.

Gavin shrugs, a new expression on his face that Nines has never seen before. It appears to be a large [smile].

"Puppies like licking faces," he says.

Nines frowns at him. The girl-puppy shoves her nose into his ear. If he were human, he would have flinched, but he is more efficient than that.

"Is her nose supposed to be cold?" he asks.

Gavin laughs. It is … a new sound. "Yeah."

Major takes the moment of distraction as an opportunity to jump up and prove Gavin's face licking hypothesis correct. Gavin turns his head to the side to avoid getting licked in the mouth, although he keeps laughing.

"Hello, puppy! Yes, hello! Hello! Did you miss me in the three seconds I talked to Nines? I'm sorry, I still love you best, I love you!"

The girl-puppy finishes sniffing inside Nines's ear canal and moves on to sniffing his neck, then up his chin, to his face. That leaves her straining forward and starting to slip again, so he quickly places her back on top of the couch. True to Gavin's word, she squirms and barks the second his hands are on her until he releases her. She recovers quickly though once he lets go and keeps his hands below the edge of the couch where she can't see.

Nines leans in closer to inspect her, and the girl-puppy does the same to him. The other dog Sumo has been accused of "knocking up" was apparently a Chow Chow, which means the all of the resulting puppies are guaranteed to grow up to be very large and very, very fluffy. This puppy seems to have gotten the most of the Chow Chow genes, with only her size and coloring reflecting her Saint Bernard parentage.

He doesn't know enough about dog breeds to determine if her curiosity and propensity for nose work to be a quirk or breed-related. He opens his mouth to tell Gavin the face-licking hypothesis does not apply to this puppy, but she shoves her entire snout into his mouth and sniffs his tongue.

Gavin thinks this is hilarious.

Nines huffs air out through his mouth, and the puppy immediately withdraws and sneezes.

"Ho-ho-holy fuck," Gavin cackles.

"Is that a new Christmas song?" Nines asks.

Gavin finds this hilarious too, slipping sideways until he lays on the floor. Major resumes his face licking attack, which makes the human laugh more for some reason.

It is … a [good] sound.

“Are you gonna keep the girl?” Gavin speaks up from the floor when they’ve both calmed down.

Nines considers the puppy, who currently has both front paws against her face so she can lean up and sniff his LED.

“Are you going to keep the boy?” he asks back.

“Dunno. Probably hafta go back to therapy or something,” Gavin says, sounding almost sober. “Can’t have anger issues and a little puppy.”

Nines does not know what to say to that, so he does not. But he does note to himself that his partner is much more emotionally intelligent than he assumed.

“Your puppy is named Major, correct?”

“Yeah.” Gavin half-sits up. “Why, you need help picking a name for yours?”

“No.”

Nines cradles the girl-puppy mostly with his arms as he draws back, and allows her to harmlessly slide down his chest and into his lap. She looks around and sneezes twice, but maintains a good attitude about the experience.

Brave, smart, determined. And her natural desire for nose work could make her into an excellent cadaver dog.

“I have a name chosen.”

Gavin looks over the edge of the couch at them. “Yeah? What’d you choose?”

Nines tries to [smile] at him. He is aware the actual expression more closely resembles a [grimace]. Smiling is not one of the four facial expressions Cyberlife allotted him, and it is not like he could (or ever would) see a Cyberlife technician to install more.

But if he looks [stupid], Gavin doesn’t comment.

“Commander.”

“Oh, motherfucker!”

Nines tries [laughing] too. The most he manages is a burst of glitchy static, but it is more than he has ever dared try in front of any other person before.

It is a [good] sound.

#ask #oasisofpassion #reed900 #gavin reed #dbh #answered #sorry not sorry Major does all the Gavin-kissing #Nines and Gavin both adopting one of Sumo's puppies is endgame for my reed900 fic #so I have a lot of headcanons for this already

323 notes · View notes

seyaryminamoto · 4 years ago

Note

(1/2) What if the reason Bryke left was because Netflix wanted to give Azula a redemption arc? Or maybe somebody wanted to change the first scene of the show so that Katara wasn't with Sokka when he went fishing and so Aang wasn't unfrozen until years later... *whistles innocently* And they realized this route would allow them to make a longer series, meaning more content, meaning more profit. Jokes aside, I realize both of these options are 99% not the reason Bryke left, but imagine if...

(2/2) they were? Like, how funny would that be? Well, the latter possibility would be sort of funny, while the former would be somewhat depressing actually. Anyway, I'm surprised how many people are complaining about Bryke's departure. From what I've seen, people primarily shit on them and any praise in regards to ATLA goes to other writers/artists. I already didn't have any high expectations out of the live-action version, but this latest development didn't really worsen them much.

x’D not wrong about the second option being hilarious, though I’d hope I’d have heard something about it, if just out of sheer decency by Netflix to contact the cruel mind behind not sending Sokka fishing with Katara... (?)

Anyways, Bryke’s involvement in ATLA’s writing is often up-played by casual viewers, and downplayed by hardcore fans. There’s no sure way to know how much work they did on ATLA’s writing, seeing as there’s a fair amount of reports that suggest Aaron Ehasz, imposed on Bryke by Nickelodeon, reeled the story into what it became. I’ve even seen people claiming Bryke’s original ending would have featured Aang leaving Katara and Sokka behind while flying off to find more airbenders after the show ended. Not half as feel-good an ending as the show’s, right? Then there’s also reports that male!Toph was going to be in a love triangle with Katara and Aang... adding Zuko to the mix, as he often was added by extra ATLA content, Katara was likely to have three possible love interests, if Bryke had gone forward with this? Considering how Korra outright had three different love interests in ALL the members of her gang, this doesn’t sound like that outlandish a claim, whether there’s real sources for it or not. If they were willing to do it with Korra, I’d believe they’d have done it with Katara.

Ehasz is indeed credited for female!Toph and Azula, in the art book (I think) Bryke are outright featured saying Ehasz is the main artificer behind Azula being who she was, rather than Zuko’s older brother (Bryke’s original concept for her character). With this in mind, when Ehasz comes out and claims that, in a hypothetical book 4, he would have redeemed Azula to also finish Zuko’s personal character arc, and then Bryke show up claiming there NEVER was a book 4 possibility, you get a clearer understanding of where Bryke are likely standing in regards of Azula’s redemption :’) if that’s what Netflix wanted (... though I question they’d have pitched it since the get-go), it’d be no surprise that Bryke wouldn’t hear of it.

There’s no denying Bryke had interesting ideas, and that they worked to build a pretty complex world, but we cannot know how much of that world was solely their doing, and how much of it was also created by the input of the larger team of writers involved in ATLA’s original show. LOK, on the other hand, features a clusterfuck of worldbuilding that doesn’t always make sense, including no shortage of retcons (not only of pre-existing lore, LOK even retcons itself up to three times regarding explaining why and who decided to keep Korra in a compound for most her formative years), terribly written romance (whenever it’s written), poor storytelling decisions that outright derrailed their show and even turned their protagonist into the B-plot for the bulk of the final season... and what a coincidence that this time Bryke had no one breathing down their necks telling them what to do: they had a lot more creative freedom in LOK than in ATLA. There was no Nickelodeon imposed Head Writer, and they didn’t bring Ehasz back of their own volition. Whether because Ehasz isn’t that great to work with or because Bryke simply didn’t want anyone else to poke their noses into THEIR story, Bryke didn’t want any supervision over LOK. And as many loud fans as LOK may have, LOK’s storytelling quality simply doesn’t measure up to ATLA’s, and I refuse to blame Nickelodeon for that when all evidence indicates Bryke had no idea what they wanted for Korra in the first place.

What I’m saying is... Bryke do seem to benefit from having someone else reeling in their ideas, probably providing genuine structure, making them seriously reason with WHERE they’re taking the story. This, going by ATLA’s much clearer structure, is something I’m willing to believe Ehasz offered, and something Bryke lacked, by their own volition, in LOK. It’s also something they lack in the comics, seeing as, up to date, they haven’t done anything in them that really lives up to their potential, as far as I know. “The comics don’t have any direction and aren’t advancing their world’s story” has become a far more frequent complaint with each newly announced and released comic volume, whether by supportive or antagonistic fans. Why might that be...?

It’s possible, of course, that Netflix’s team simply isn’t the kind of team Bryke can work with positively. Maybe they’re too stiff, maybe they’re not that creative, maybe they’re unable to compromise and it’s not all on Bryke?

But with the precedent Bryke has set (ATLA, with supervision, manages quality storytelling, despite its many flaws, whereas LOK, without it, is a storytelling failure), I wouldn’t be surprised that they were outright unwililng to compromise their own ideas after experiencing the full freedom of working on LOK without anyone telling them what to do, and that upon finding they wouldn’t have that same freedom this time, they quit.

Does this mean the show will automatically be better or worse? Eh... beats me, frankly. There’s no denying Bryke did endeavor to develop a large, unique world with the Avatarverse, but as much as the fandom believes otherwise, what made the Avatar world unique wasn’t merely that it wasn’t “white”. This particular qualm by the fandom feels really narrowminded to me, and I’m not saying this because I believe there should be white people in Avatar, hell no: what I do mean is that ATLA had an Asian setting, but the narrative frequently imposed western values on it. They recreated many elements of Asian cultures, but morally? ATLA couldn’t be more western. Is that a good or a bad thing? Beats me. But there’s a lot of occidental influence in ATLA’s narrative, even more of it in LOK, and that somehow doesn’t bother people nearly as much as it bothers them that the liveaction cast isn’t western in the least. Yes, it’s true, the cast shouldn’t be western: but there are many regards in which the original ATLA could pioneer a better understanding of many Asian cultures, and it doesn’t. Even something as complex as the Fire Nation’s cultural practices (no, I don’t mean the genocide and supermacy, I mean everything else) is outright blasted by the show’s western moralism from the get-go rather than seen as what a different culture values (already offered a few thoughts about this on this other ask).

Therefore, in terms of casting, which seems the main concern of the bulk of the fandom, I highly doubt Netflix will be willing to repeat the same mistake M. Night’s fiasco committed. They can’t be that stupid. They’ve done a lot of big diversity efforts in the past, whether insincere or not, in many regards, so I seriously doubt they need Bryke sitting in the casting booth repeating “NO WHITE ACTORS! NO WHITE ACTORS!” to the top of their lungs to remind Netflix's executives that this just can’t happen. Seriously, if that’s what their input for the show was supposed to be about, Netflix was better off saving up the money of hiring those two as main consultants or executives and using that coin to pay the likely lousy salaries of the non-white actors they’ll surely hire :’) I doubt, seriously, that Bryke’s problem had anything to do with white casting. If Netflix entered this deal and didn’t do their homework first, then they’re basically dooming themselves since day one and the show would suck with or without Bryke’s involvement. This is not impossible, but really stupid, and an absolutely failed business venture to jump into.

In the end, I don’t know what that liveaction will shape up into. I don’t exactly care much either, which is why I didn’t really debate this subject before answering this ask... I’m pretty detached from canon these days, as things stand. I can’t even bring myself up to reading the plot of the Kyoshi novels, no matter if people keep telling me they’re ~actually good!~, let alone will I want to rewatch ATLA in liveaction when I’ve become increasingly infuriated by liveaction remakes with each new one Disney releases :’) from the moment it was announced, I knew this remake wouldn’t be for me. It’s not likely they’ll do anything with it that I’ll really want to see, or that they’ll change things in a way that resolves my frequent complaints about the show’s storytelling mishaps. Therefore, I’d always meant to leave it be and let everyone else enjoy it...

... And Bryke’s absence from the project doesn’t really change my mind on that front. At this point, crediting them for the entire success of ATLA is incredibly naïve, especially seeing how none of their later projects have even come close to ATLA’s level of storytelling quality. Likewise, it’d be naïve to assume Netflix is guaranteed to do better without Bryke’s “meddling”. If anything, without Bryke’s likely persistence that the show be kept close to its roots, Netflix is bound to fall into its frequent, known tendencies of pandering to certain crowds at the cost of quality storytelling because Hollywood overused and bad tropes are where success is at! They’ll likely flatten characters, turn them into edgy, non-humorous versions of themselves, not unlike in M. Night’s film, and then everyone will hate the show anyways for offering such dull and simplistic characterization compared to the original :’)

In short... there’s no winning scenario. There really isn’t. I assumed there wouldn’t be one anyhow, from the get-go, at least for myself? But now that Bryke are out, the fandom is divided in about four factions:

The ones who will watch and support the liveaction no matter what.

The ones who think it will suck balls because Bryke aren’t in it.

The ones who think it will be an improvement because Bryke aren’t in it.

The ones who won’t watch it no matter what.

Me... I’ve been in camp #4 from the start. Bryke being part of this project didn’t reassure me, neither does their absence... and I’m still as convinced this show won’t be my thing today as I was when it was first announced. So... *shrug* we live and let die. I mean, first of all we have to wait and see if the show’s production will even survive the pandemic first, so we can worry about how bad or good it will be if Bryke’s departure + COVID-19 didn’t destroy it altogether already :’D

#anon #no offense to anyone who genuinely looked forward to this show #if you all wanted to enjoy it well #maybe you still will?#even bryke acknowledge that :'D #but I wasn't going to no matter what so #*shrug*

16 notes · View notes

only-by-the-stars · 4 years ago

Text

the annotated Tome of the Wild

Part 7: The Wild!

- Link didn't open his eyes. A twist on the beginning of BOTW, where you hear Zelda telling Link to open his eyes. I couldn’t resist.

- Hestu’s cameo was a lot of fun to write too. I always found him adorable, first in BOTW and then in AOC as well, and the idea of him waking up Link with his maracas was too amusing not to do. I also had to include his “shimmy shimmy” battle cry from AOC because I always laugh my head off whenever I hear it.

- This also reveals that Midna brought Link to the Great Deku Tree, a character that debuted in OOT and made further appearances in WW and BOTW.

- Something tickled her arm, breaking her out of her gloomy thoughts. Midna lifted her head and looked down. New growth was sprouting from the branch she was sitting on, wriggling its way up onto her. Nothing like this happens to Beatrice in the show, but I had to put in this chilling little moment of Midna nearly succumbing to the dekuwood. It provides a way later to introduce Rhoam’s presence in his scene, as well as some horror at what could’ve happened to her here.

- Note to self: never visit Tabantha if you can help it... Tabantha, of course, being a very cold region in BOTW’s Hyrule. Link’s newfound hatred of snow mirrors my own, and now he’s going to associate it with this horrible experience.

- “It's a bad habit, I guess.” He laughed softly. He’s referring, of course, to how he casually greeted Riju and Medli back at the school pool and they gave him a bit of a hard time about it.

- “You...” Midna stared at him for several seconds, stunned. “You...” She slapped his hand away and starting swinging her tiny fists at him, which he easily dodged. “You oaf! You idiot! What the hell—what the hell is wrong with you? How can you forgive me so easily, when you're still in a shit situation because of me? Neither one of us would be out here groping around blindly in the fucking snow if not for what I did!” I set up Midna and Link to be parallels of each other in a couple ways. One of which is that while Link has isolated himself from Mipha, hurting and confusing her, Midna is on the other end of something similar with Zelda. And here we see something they both struggle with: forgiving themselves. Midna can’t understand how Link can so easily forgive her actions towards him, while Link utterly despises himself for his actions towards Mipha and cannot forgive himself for causing her pain. He’ll later struggle with the fact that Mipha forgives him easily, just as Midna is having trouble understanding his forgiveness of her here. All of them find it easier to forgive their loved ones than to grant that same grace to themselves.

- “She told me that while she appreciated how much I cared, I should think a little more and be less reckless. I know she'd never call me stupid, but...” Link shrugged. “Honestly, I kind of am.” Another reference to Mipha calling Link reckless, and how she hates seeing him get hurt. He is indeed not the smartest guy around, but she does describe him as being very kind and determined to help those in need, so I tried to emphasize that aspect of his personality in this story. Although the “I kind of am” line is also intended to be a subtle red flag. We’ve already seen that Link thinks very little of himself and his abilities, even when it’s clear from the words of others that he’s very talented. And we’re about to soon see him use a bit of intelligence he very much does have, in order to save the day. He would never believe himself capable of such a thing, but he does it anyway.

- “Even just a few branches could be processed... enough to get us through this storm...” Note the use of the plural here. This is leading up to the revelation about his belief that Zelda is in the lantern. His desperation to find more oil anywhere is because, of course, he believes that if the light goes out she will die. And he wouldn’t be in this scarcity if not for what happened back in chapter one, with Link and Aryll and the dog accidentally wrecking the mill and his oil supply.

- He was soon rewarded with a most welcome sight: a single dekuwood branch, growing out of that of a normal tree. It seemed sickly, withered, and it waved feebly in the air, but he rushed forward and hacked it off anyway. The very same branch that tried to attach itself to Midna, sickly and withered precisely because of that failure.

- And now we come to the confirmation that the dekuwood is made from the people who succumb to despair and exhaustion in the woods, right as we see it growing all around Aryll. Rhoam has been unaware this entire time of all the souls he’s sacrificed over the past several months, and now that he knows, he refuses to do it any longer. For he, like Midna, recognizes that Zelda would never want anyone to be harmed for her sake.

He’s also right that Link would never leave Aryll to such a fate, recognizing Link’s love and protectiveness towards his little sister. This is a point where my characterization of Link wildly diverges from that of Wirt, the protagonist of OTGW. I pulled some things from Wirt for Link and his arc, but one thing I didn’t keep was the resentment and initial callousness that Wirt displays for Greg, who is revealed in the tavern sequence to be his half-brother thanks to his mother remarrying, something Greg frowns at when Wirt mentions it. Aryll is also technically Link’s half-sister, as I revealed in the letters that his mother remarried some years after his father’s death and had Aryll with her new husband, but I could not for the life of me see him being resentful or unkind to his little sister. Whatever his faults, I’ve written him as being, at his core, an incredibly kind and deeply loving person, and his adoration of his sister is a part of that. He doesn’t view her as a “half” anything, she’s just his sister and he’ll do anything to protect her. Which of course is a big part of what led to his breakdown: his feelings of guilt over not doing as good a job of that as he thinks he should be doing.

- “Link, I don't... I don't think that's natural light. It looks more like...” This has a double meaning. The fire in the lantern is not the “natural light” of the sun, and it is also deeply unnatural, given that it’s the Beast’s soul in there.

- Speaking of that! The confrontation with the Beast plays out a bit differently here than it does in the show, thanks to Midna’s personal connection to all this. Rhoam’s mention of Zelda gets her attention, and the Beast uses her love for Zelda as a way to try and turn her and Link against each other with his attempt to make them choose which soul will go into the lantern. He’ll get fuel and kill Aryll either way, but why not pit these two against each other as a way to manipulate them into doing what he wants? Except it backfires, because Midna won’t harm anyone for Zelda’s sake, and Link figures out what’s going on anyway, thanks to remembering the words of Rhoam and Telma.

- Link stood up, his mind racing. It was like when the solution to a puzzle finally presented itself in a moment of stunning clarity. For all that he’s not that bright in so many ways, it’s important to remember that he’s canonically able to solve all those tricky puzzles we do, without benefit of a guide, just using his wits and the tools he has at hand. And so too does he solve this particular puzzle, by remembering what he’s been told and piecing it together with what he sees here, thinking about the fact that the Beast’s story doesn’t add up. Which saves the day, in the end.

- “Am I wrong?” Link repeated, his voice shaking with barely suppressed fury; he took a few more steps, forcing the Beast to retreat further. “No more lies. Tell the truth for once, Beast.” Referencing, of course, the fact that Telma told him the Beast lies. He’s absolutely furious right now because of the attempt on Aryll’s life; you do not mess with Link’s loved ones. The Beast, too, fucked around and found out the hard way.

- In the show, Wirt gives the lantern back to the Woodsman to blow out after the delivery of the “Are you?” line that I kept (and had Link nail the delivery of on his first try, unlike Wirt, because that’s what makes sense for both their characters). Here, I chose to let Link kill the Beast, because he is, after all, the legendary hero who slays the villain. But even more importantly, I felt he deserved and had earned such a moment with his growing courage over the course of the tale.

- “See you later, Link.” Hey, remember how Midna broke all our hearts by saying a similar line to Link in TP as she broke the mirror and went back to her world? I sure do!

- “Sleepers wake, dreams will fade... although we cling fast..." This, and the lyrics that close out this section, are the first few lines of the vocal version of Ballad of the Wind Fish that was done for the LA remake.

- There were lights and shadowy figures coming closer, and voices—was someone calling his name? As I would later reveal in the prologue of a place to start, Mipha was screaming his name as she ran down the hill towards him.

- The words he wanted so badly to say to her hung on the tip of his tongue And it shows on his face, that desire to express the love for her that is all but bursting out of him in this moment, and Mipha sees it. She sees that love shining in his eyes as they stare at each other, giving her her hope back and then some. In a way, Link was right: if he hadn’t hidden from her, she would’ve realized what his real feelings for her are. He just didn’t know how happy it would’ve made her. But he will soon.

- “—and that's how we got away from the evil possessed lady!” Out of the corner of his eye Link saw Aryll shake the frog triumphantly, and Mipha, distracted by the sudden commotion, looked away from him. A small, muffled chime sounded, and the amphibian's stomach glowed. “The ringing of the bell commanded her! Though she wasn't really evil, just...” The series is never clear on just what the otherworld the brothers enter is, but it is clear that it really happened to them, and I preserved that ambiguity in the same way, by showing the bell as still being in the frog’s stomach.

- Link nodded. “Yes.” It didn't matter anymore how it'd gotten into her pocket; he'd made it, and brought it with him tonight, with the intention of giving it to her. There was no more question of taking it back or denying it. Courage has been achieved; he’s no longer going to hide or pretend, or try to take back the gift he worked on so hard. Midna is right: he’s been so brave in the Wild, and it’s time to apply that bravery to confessing his feelings to Mipha and letting her know that he loves her. The words will have to wait till the next day, but for now he’s doing all he can to face his fears and stop running, by hugging her and holding her hand and wiping her tears away, letting his love show in his expression as he looks at her without avoiding her eyes. Plus, of course, admitting to his intentions with the tape and inviting her over to listen to it together. They’re finally getting a breakthrough after two months of separation and pain.

- The doctor, Syrup, is a recurring NPC throughout the series, a witch who brews up helpful healing potions for Link to use on his adventures.

- I'm home, Mipha. Calling back, of course, to Midna’s line about there being someone waiting for him and to go home to her. Not only that, but in Mipha’s letters, I had her mention wanting him to “come back to her”. And now he finally has.

and that wraps this up, as the epilogue is composed strictly of Miphlink fluff and sweet, sweet payoff. if you took the time to read the fic and these write ups, thank you, I hope you enjoyed them! ❤

#annotations #and happy zelda anniversary!

3 notes · View notes

voorheehees · 5 years ago

Text

Just Being Nice

Lester Sinclair x Reader

1000+ words

The inside of his truck looked like something ripped straight out of an i-spy book. With all the old bones, assorted bird’s heads, and collection of colorful bottle caps, there was no way you could focus on just one thing. Not to mention, the whole interior smelled of rot and tobacco and God only knows what else. You shifted your attention to him, the man behind the wheel who had picked you up a ways back. He was every backwoods redneck stereotype rolled into one dirty man. There was a large bowie knife tucked into his belt, a detail that you couldn’t possibly ignore. It would be a lie to say the whole situation didn’t put you at least a little on edge. But at this point, it was either ride to town in a strange car with this even stranger hillbilly, or sit back on the side of the road with your broken down car.

“What did you say your name was again?” You asked.

The driver looked to you and smiled, exposing a row of yellowed teeth. He resembled a wild animal, yet somehow charming, innocent.

“I didn’t. It’s Lester.” He replied in a heavy, scratchy southern accent.

Your smile back was a bit uneasy, yet sincere. Although Lester was a... unique character, he also happened to be your knight in shining armor of the day.

****

‘Fuck.’

It was all your mind could think. Your car was parked helplessly by the side of the road, steam rising from it like a train, while fluid dripped menacingly below it. You didn’t know much about cars, but you knew that a leaking radiator was not something you could take care of alone. But there was no town nearby that you were aware of, and no cell service for you to call a tow truck. In some fit of frustration you kicked the front fender of your car, immediately regretting the action as you felt a surge of pain run through your foot.

You nearly began to weep when you saw a car heading in your direction, bringing a blizzard of dust with it. It looked as though fate was in your favor after all. Without sparing a second, you stepped out into the road, waving your arms above your head. You thought you must have looked pretty ridiculous, but at this point you didn’t care. The car began to slow down, proving your attempt to get the driver’s attention a success. Your joy was quickly snuffed out, however, when you finally got a good look at the vehicle. The first thing you noticed was the traces of blood that lingered on the front bumper of the truck, and you could see small tufts of fur and what could only be gut residue poking out of the grills. Then you noticed the smell, a smell that made you feel as though you would vomit right there on the side of the road. You were so distracted by the scene in front of you that you didn’t notice the man step out from the driver’s side door.

“You lost?” He asked, startling you enough to emit a helpless yelp.

“N-no!” It came out louder than you had intended. “I mean yes, well, uh…”

The man raised his eyebrows at you expectantly as you attempted to form a coherent sentence. You took a deep breath and continued.

“It’s my radiator.” You pointed towards the open hood of your car, which was still puffing out a steady cloud of steam.

The man let out a long, shrill whistle.

“Well that don’t look good at all.” He said.

“You wouldn’t happen to be a mechanic, would you?” You asked, half jokingly.

The man removed his hat, revealing a head of messy, light brown hair. He ran his fingers through it, gaze not breaking from your damaged car.

“Afraid not-”

Your heart sunk, although it was the answer you expected.

“But I know a guy. There’s a town about twenty or so miles from here, I can give you a lift if you’d like.”

The offer was intimidating, and seemed rushed. This man, Lester, he didn’t know you at all. And you sure as hell didn’t know him. For all you knew, he could be a serial killer, and all that blood could be from people and not unfortunate deer as you had originally suspected. Which was why you were so shocked by the single shroud of trust in you, telling you that you should in fact get in the truck with this odd man, and that he would help you out. And somehow, it overpowered the rest of your internal thoughts that were screaming out at all the red flags. Perhaps this was due to the fact that you didn’t really have any other option, besides sitting by your car alone and waiting for a more “trustworthy” person to drive by. No way that was happening.

“That would be great, thank you.” you said hesitantly.

The man grinned from ear to ear, obviously pleased with your answer. He made his way over to the passenger side door and opened it, giving a little arm gesture like he was imitating a chauffeur.

“Hop in!”

That was about half an hour ago now, and it seemed as though the entire duration of your trip had been filled with Lester going on about how collecting roadkill not only put a good sum of money in his pocket from selling antlers and deer heads to nearby bars, but it also cut his food costs by a landslide. Although you found it humorous that a guy like him was talking about finances, you tuned out when he began talking about how “It’s good venison, once you pick out the gravel”. However, as the time increased, so did the apprehensive feeling in your gut.

“Um, Lester? Are we getting close?”

You tried your best to not convey the ever growing fear in your tone. Lester was not convinced. He looked over to you with an expression you couldn’t exactly read. His brows knitted slightly, but he carried a somewhat phoney, or perhaps unsure smile.

“It’s just around the bend. Je-Sus! Don’t worry, I ain’t gonna kill you.”

You couldn’t help but smile despite the circumstances. For some reason, the strange attempt of reassurance was calming.

“Good,” you said, “I really thought you were going to turn me into a hood ornament.”

Lester chuckled, then snorted. In that moment, you thought he was sort of cute. In a weird way. Like a possum, or a feral child. You realised that he had dimples on his cheeks, they were soft but still noticeable. Catching yourself staring, you quickly changed the subject.

“So, what’s this town called again?” You questioned.

“Ambrose.” He answered, his laughter winding down to a giggle.

“I’ve never even heard of it.” you said.

“It’s not much,” the driver began, “Just a tiny town, don’t even think it’s on maps. But it’s got a mechanic, Bo.”

“Bo..” you repeated, almost in a whisper.

This time, it was Lester who looked you over. And yet it wasn’t in a perverted way, as was usually the case when he had beautiful people in his passenger seat. He admired how the afternoon sun cast across your figure like a painting. You turned to face him, offering an innocent, still somewhat guarded smile. Lester’s mouth went dry at the sight. He thought he could fall in love right then and there.

Due to his distraction, he had to slam on the breaks rather harshly when you finally reached Ambrose. Or rather, just outside Ambrose.

“Welp,” Lester said hoarsely, “here we are.”

He parked the truck and cut the engine.

“I hope you don’t mind me dropping you off here.”

“Oh no! You’ve done so much already I don’t mind at all.” You said.

Seconds, which seemed more like minutes passed, yet you didn’t exit the truck. The two of you sat awkwardly, quietly, each one trying to think of what to say. You glanced to Lester, who tapped anxiously on the steering wheel. With another deep breath, you gathered your wits and spoke.

“Thank you, Lester. Really.”

His face visibly went a shade or two more pink. He coughed slightly as you places a gentle hand on his arm.

“Oh,” he stammered, “Don’t mention it. I was just trying to be nice. Y’know, civic duties and shit.”

The words had to force themselves out past the lump in his throat as he watched you get out of the truck.

“Well, bye.” You said finally, almost wishing that he might ask you to stay a bit longer. You knew it was a useless thought.

“Bye…” he replied.

You shut the door and began walking towards the town, your travel companion waiting in the parked truck, face twisted with concern. When you reached the “Welcome to Ambrose” sign, you stopped suddenly, turning to wave one final goodbye to Lester. You regretted judging him, as he turned out to be a really sweet man under all that dirt and animal blood. You mentally promised yourself that you would not do the same to the people you met in Ambrose, no matter what. Lester’s heart skipped a beat as you waved to him. He gave a subtle nod back to you, guilt weighing on him like a ton of bricks. He wanted to stop you, but what would he say? What could he say? ‘Don’t go to this place that I brought you to, you’ll get turned to wax’? Yeah right. You would not only run away from Ambrose, but from him as well.

Unconsciously, he stroked the spot on his arm where you had touched him only moments earlier, a million scenarios running through his head. He could be a hero, he could run out there, grab you, kiss you. Then the two of you would drive the hell away from that place, with nothing but the small stash of money he kept in his glove compartment and each other. What a stupid thought.

He started his truck, which sputtered to life, truly showing its age and shape. Lester had never questioned what he did, never questioned his brother, Bo. Why now? He didn’t need to think hard to know the answer, for he already knew. Mother had always said he was a lover. He rolled down the window, letting the fresh air in and the stink of the interior out. As the crisp autumn wind blew onto his face, he wondered if Bo would let him visit the museum tomorrow. He just wanted to see you one last time.

#lester sinclair #house of wax 2005 #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #lester sinclair imagine #slasher headcanons #slasher imagines #slasher fanfiction #slasher x reader #house of wax #lester sinclair x reader

277 notes · View notes

jojosbizarreadventur · 5 years ago

Text

Time’s Crusade: Chapter 3 (03)

also available on AO3 (under emih)

This chapter: A love-hate relationship with an Arrow, served with a side of flesh.

warning (just in case): canon-typical violence (it’s Dio for God’s sake)

Summary: Yesterday in 2011, your husband Noriaki and close friend Jotaro were both murdered together just months before your university graduations. The day before yesterday, you discovered that your nerve-wracking IUI procedure was successful. Two months before that day, said close friend made a proposition to the both of you due to your husband’s recently-discovered infertility.

Today in 1988, you’re over 20 years into the past of an alternate universe, suddenly tasked with trailing after different versions of your late husband and close friend as they travel with unfamiliar faces to Egypt, determined to confront the man you now work for.

And in the following days, you discover how easy it was for your sentiments to change.

The Wife of an Important Man, Part 1

November 1988 || Cairo, Egypt

It’s a little after midnight now.

Vanilla Ice can tell when Lord Dio awakens to go about his night, based on the faint yet resonating sound of his footsteps down the halls, or even the various screams of pain and pleasure erupting from his chamber. Admittedly, there were times when even the long-haired man fantasized that he be the one to let out those screams, to experience the might of Lord Dio firsthand.

He could only dream, however, as a mere servant.

Recently, Lord Dio had taken the time to feast on two French women simultaneously, but it hadn’t once occurred to him that they’ve already been here before. Vanilla Ice knows this— it wasn’t every day that he saw a woman with pink and black hair, or a woman with a terrifyingly hideous face. Strangely enough, they both bore slight silver stretch marks on their lower abdomens, though Vanilla Ice scoffed at the absurd thought he had right after.

He trained himself to remember everyone who steps onto and into the premises, including the ones who have willingly given their blood and bodies to the man that reigns over them… over him and every other lowly human in this very mansion.

Because during most nights and days, Vanilla Ice patrols the hallways.

Actually, he insists that he be the one to do it. It’s very important.

There’s been an influx of traitors recently, with many of them recklessly throwing accusations of low pay and terrible trade-offs— as if! These old henchmen were the same ones to calmly head inside the mansion and approach Lord Dio with murderous intent, not knowing that he’s a… night owl of some sort.

Nevertheless, Vanilla Ice had always been successful in dealing with a good portion of them in such a clean fashion. He’s been grateful for his Stand, which had ensured the walls and floors to be spotless when he’d get rid of them. The rest of these traitors would either be handled by Pet Shop— the falcon that guards the outer gates— if they were unable to get inside, or Lord Dio himself if they somehow manage to get past the falcon and him.

To Vanilla Ice, at least, what he does around here is certainly more useful than what the other servants have been tasked to do inside.

There was Kenny G, who literally only casts illusions to the mansion’s rooms when guests came over. He liked to work with the college-aged butler with the beehive hair and strange facial tattoos, who often played video games with him or asked him to cast illusions around the mansion just for ‘fun’. Vanilla Ice usually ignored him in particular, thinking that he should be back home getting drunk at college or fucking his girlfriend or something. He shouldn’t be here, messing around in a mansion as sacred as this one.

Yet, Lord Dio himself still seemed to tolerate him, and Vanilla Ice had no clue as to why.

Then there was Nukesaku, the little shit who kept trailing after him and the others. Vanilla Ice couldn’t believe that someone as idiotic as him was a vampire like Lord Dio, but here he was being an absolute nuisance. It was insulting.

In fact, one of the rare traits that Vanilla Ice had in common with the others was the intolerance for Nukesaku’s presence, tasking him themselves to only do the janitorial work. Should he interfere with what they do, whether it may be Vanilla Ice patrolling or Kenny G and the butler playing that stupid baseball game (it sucks, by the way), they had no hesitation to end him right there and then—

—he’s already there at the source of the thud and crash… and the groan.

No one else had bothered to come down.

Lord Dio was presumably still in his chambers at this time of night, though he knew the mansion inside out. Surely he’d be aware of an unwanted presence in his own house, even if he was stories up. Vanilla Ice scoffs— it’s no surprise that all of the other servants wouldn’t come down at a time like this. They clearly did not have the dedication that he, Vanilla Ice, had for their boss.

Vanilla Ice’s eyes dart around the living room, ready to use his void when he sees… her.

There’s a woman moaning and expelling coughs, but he knows it’s not one that has been with Lord Dio as he doesn’t recognize her voice.

She’s on the cold, stony ground beside the embroidered sofa, arms trembling as she attempts to hold herself up. One arm proceeds to carry her upper body weight as best as it could as another reaches for her own throat. He isn’t sure what she’s trying to do; the general darkness of the room actually obscures most of her altogether, especially with the slit of moonlight refusing to shine anywhere near her. What he’s able to make out is some medium-sized lump, with one of its straps wrapped around her supporting arm. It’s most likely some sort of bag or backpack.

The heels of his boots click against the stone floor as he approaches her with caution. Even though her body continues to tremble and half-ass in supporting herself up, her head starts to tilt up at him. He isn’t able to see her face as her head suddenly dips, letting out a series of dry coughs again. Her body sways ever-so-slightly afterwards; her supporting arm shifts across the floor and causes the bag to move with it. Vanilla Ice swears he hears the jarring sound of broken metal hardware pieces.

This intruding woman is just hacking and coughing on the floors in front of him— who the hell is she?

…how did she get past Pet Shop?

…how did she get past him?

…lastly, how did she get past Lord Dio?!

“[—Don’t kill her, Vanilla. She’s meant for Lord Dio.]”

Vanilla Ice freezes in his stance. The second he recognizes the other voice, he lets out an irritated sigh.

Right. He forgot to mention this piece of shit— servant.

Of course.

He maintains a frown as he witnesses the man in the orange robing sauntering in from the small space between the tall bookcase and the stone wall. Vanilla Ice makes no effort to conceal his growl at the sight of the man blatantly pushing the bookcase aside to make room for himself as he enters. Sure, its placement could easily be fixed by Nukesaku later, but to disrespect Lord Dio’s belongings in such a fashion…

Anyway, that doesn’t matter right now. Neither does the small, flat, and strange ‘flashlight’ that he had in one hand as he walked towards him.

Vanilla Ice’s attention averts back to the woman who remained in her spot on the floor.

Who are you?

——

The man in the orange robing knows he’s already ticked him off by not using his full name, Vanilla Ice. He admits— for someone tasked for a generally-important job around the mansion, it seems like the guy’s just never satisfied.

Nonetheless, the long-haired man lets out a low chuckle at the sight of him.

“[Goodness, you’re back already?]” he sneered.

If there’s one thing that’s true, it’s that Vanilla Ice despised him the most. Initially, the man in the orange robing was oblivious to his hatred. He wasn’t aware that he’d have the talent of acquiring a dedicated hater so early on in his ‘career’, but once they were out of Lord Dio’s sight, Vanilla Ice ensured to display his contempt for him as much as possible.

Heels softly thudded against the stone floor as he approached the man with the orange robing, whose clothes shone from the small slit of moonlight in the room.

“[‘S not like she was hard to find],” he shamelessly confesses. The flat… flashlight continues to be twirled around in his hand, its projected light moving in a small circle. “[A park in Tokyo at night; very close to an area of a recent crime scene… heh. Doubt you’re going to find anyone willing to go near that place besides her.]”

“Her?”

The man in the orange robing tells Vanilla Ice your name.

Yes— it didn’t happen at first, but he recognized you. He’s unsure about whether to tell you or not.

Vanilla Ice repeats your name, tone dripping with utter disgust. Whoever you were— he thought— you were the outcome, a product of Lord Dio’s growing preference for the man that stood before him… the man who should have no business with Lord Dio.

Nevertheless, he feels the need to pry. There’s no way in hell he’s letting the two of you stand before Lord Dio without any background, without any context to your sudden appearance in the mansion.

“Hm… where did you travel?”

Questions like these are a common occurrence; he isn’t stupid.

“Another dimension.”

Vanilla Ice grunts at his vague answer. He takes one glance at where you sat.

“How old is she?”

“Well, she was going to graduate university next March.”

“Oh, she’s quite young, then,” Vanilla Ice snidely comments, narrowing his eyes at the man with the orange robing.

The man with the orange robing turns away to roll his eyes at his colleague’s passive jab at him. He wasn’t even that young; hell, he’s actually older than you. He wasn’t even as young as the nerdy butler that got hired right before him, and he thinks you two are closer in age if not a year apart. In Vanilla Ice’s presence, it always seemed like some sort of covert dick measuring contest to see who had more worth around here in the mansion. At least Vanilla Ice was a lot closer to the mid-life crisis age than he was.

Sourly, the man with the orange robing replies, “I suppose.”

Vanilla Ice then asks with haste, “What is her business with Lord Dio?”

“That… I cannot tell you.”

He gave him a pointed look in response.

“It’s confidential,” the man hissed, abruptly stepping closer to his fellow servant. “If I spill info, and any word of our conversation spreads, I will know you’re the source. But obviously, Lord Dio will know that I revealed his objectives, and our heads will be displayed to rot.”

Vanilla Ice tsked. The man fumed.

“Of course you’d care about your own outcome,” he retorted, now eye-to-eye with the younger man. “You do this— all of this— to acquire riches and respect and reputation like all the other servants. You do not care about anything but yourself. You are not worthy of doing errands for Lord Dio— you are not worthy of being in his presence, you—!”

“—wh… wh— what…”

Both Vanilla Ice and the man whip their heads to you.

You’re finally starting to get up— shakily, at that. The backpack you hold almost falls out of your grasp, though you manage to grab it. Your attention currently isn’t on the two men in front of you.

With a trembling hand, you slowly unzip the bag before distress contorted your face.

Everything that you knew was there remained, and— shit. Out of everything you didn’t want to be damaged, your laptop got fucked up beyond repair. Not only did it absorb the impact when you got thrown and tumbled into the room, but the textbook inside your backpack had also crushed it. You mean, you spent an extra shit-ton for the better processor, more RAM, and two SSDs— there’s no way in hell you wanted that to go waste—

—okay, not the point here. As long as you have other necessities such as your phone, it’s fine. You’re not sure why the laptop was the first thing you worried about.

“The journey wasn’t that bad, don’t you think?”

Your eyes shoot up to the speaker, the man in the orange robing. Seeing the strange flat flashlight in his hand— wait.

When did this fucker find the time to take your phone out of your backpack?

Gaping at him, you nearly drop said backpack again.

“Are… no, no, are you— fucking— kidding me?” you shout with a strained voice. His grasp on your neck had left quite the influence on your vocals.

The sight of this dark room of worn stone, the unlit fireplace, the walls covered with bookshelves (save for one, which was out of place), the… dated embroidered sofas with bullion skirts, the large imported Ghalitcheh-format rug beneath them, the… everything. You’re having a bit of a sensory overload— you don’t fail to quickly observe all of these sights, these… smells.

By the way, it smelled faintly of…

Well, you start to wonder if there are any carcasses nearby. You resist the temptation to retch.

Your other hand travels down to your lower abdomen, quietly sighing in relief when you don’t feel any pangs of pain or discomfort there.

They’re fine.

But… you’re not. No, you’re… somewhere— you haven’t a clue where— and not of your own free will. You’ve been forcefully dragged through the space of a goddamn hedge and tree trunk and now you’re here. You stand before the American man— the man in the orange robing with his stupid crotch-high boots— but it’s not like the other guy looks any better. The guy’s wearing a blue leotard under a black waistcoat, you mean, come on.

“Where— where am I? Tell me, where am I?” you now demanded, facing them directly. You step forward— into the moonlight’s luminescence from the open slit— and it’s the first time Vanilla Ice sees your face. At the very least, he thinks you’re better looking than that hideous French feast of Lord Dio’s.

The man in the orange robing says as if it’s obvious, “Egypt.”

Already knowing that you would like your phone back, he simply places it in an inner pocket of his robe. Okay, you’re not sure what it takes to get your phone back from him unless you want to die, so you reluctantly put that aside for now. What you focus on is that single response.

Egypt.

And you’re sorry, but what?

The transcontinental country simultaneously located on the corners of Africa and Asia… Egypt.

Egypt… where a revolution had happened months ago— there was coverage about it on NHK World that time.

A place that is, geographically, not Japan. Which is where you actually live, and have been living in for nearly seven years— not Egypt.

“...what?”

He rolled his eyes. “You heard me the first—”

“—no shit I heard you,” you interject, scowling at him. You began to collect your thoughts as you continued speaking— babbling, really. “What— what do you mean I’m in Egypt? Why am I in Egypt? There… the… there’s no reason I… husband said… parliamentary elections… what the hell…”

Late husband.

You conveniently forget that last string of thought.

Vanilla Ice blinked at you. “What?”

You turn to the towering man, briefly astounded by his sheer height. Who was this? Was he a part of this plan too? What was this plan, anyway?

“What do you mean ‘what’? I mean, if you’re here in Egypt, I figured you’d know what’s going on in the country you live in… didn’t you all have a constitutional referendum back in March and everything? Or is this not really Egypt, and you all are just screwing with me?”

Noriaki visited the country with his family some years ago. The topic of international travel always induced him to bring up that trip— he used to point out how memorable it was for him. So of course, he’d take the time to know what’s happening in a place that he associated with good memories. And then proceeded to tell you everything he found out.

Suddenly, you were snapped out of your reminiscing when Vanilla Ice responded to you in a tactless manner.

“What in the actual hell are you talking about? Egypt has not had a constitutional referendum since 1980. That was eight years ago.” He resorts to facing the man in the orange robing, who had his arms crossed over his chest. “Pray tell, why is this woman reserved for Lord Dio? She is as dumb as a post.”

…1980.

“Are you describing yourself? I told you, Vanilla, it’s confidential.”

That was eight years ago.

“I assume you’re only saying that to get me off your back and leave you be. Let me tell you—”

You turn away from them.

“A little over 77% of people voted ‘yes’ on the constitutional referendum. That’s over 14 million voters.”

“Oh, seriously? When did these results come out?”

“Eh… on Saturday, the 19th. They haven’t had a referendum since 2007, the year my parents and I visited for summer break.”

Luckily, you would remember most— if not all— of what Noriaki tells you.

“—you’re lying,” you denounced, facing Vanilla Ice again.

He deadpanned. “I, Vanilla Ice, can tell when people don’t make any use of their brains—”

“—that’s ironic—” the man in the orange robing grumbled.

“—no! You’re a goddamn liar! Egypt had a constitutional referendum this year, eight months ago— not years ago,” you snapped, stomping your foot in front of the long-haired man. “What type of shit are you trying to pull?”

“I hardly understand you in—” Vanilla Ice countered, glaring down at you.

Abruptly, he pauses. His magenta eyes avert from you to the man in the orange robing, who only donned a look of suspicion for his fellow servant.

“Does she not… know?”

What do you not know?

Your eyes dart back and forth from Vanilla Ice to the man in the orange robing. It occurs to you both that he’s been staying unusually silent during this conversation.

“Know what?” you asked slowly, though your glare at the man in the orange robing doesn’t do much.

To Vanilla Ice, the lack of explanation only comes off as incompetence. Or perhaps, was he keeping his motives a secret from you especially? In order to have the ‘suspicion’ reach a crescendo?

Oh, hoh. If anything, his ‘task’ sounds like a shitshow waiting to occur. Vanilla Ice mentally notes to ensure his own presence when it happens.

The man gives him a pointed look, which is enough of a response.

“This woman is your responsibility,” is all Vanilla Ice says as a reminder before he steps back and storms away, heels loudly clicking against the hard floor.

It starts to become obnoxious after the first few steps.

You don’t even consider what you do next. The man beside you only stands in his spot, scowling at Vanilla Ice’s back as he walked and walked and walked.

Because of his long legs, he’s able to extend his distance from you and the man in the orange robing even further, but you could hardly care less. You begin to go after him— backpack on your back again— and you’re close to him, you’re ready to pull at his large-muscled arm, you’re going to interrogate and demand answers from him because there’s no way the orange-robed guy is telling you anything—

“Do not follow me.”

Vanilla Ice abruptly turns around to face you once you catch up to him. He’s already standing in the vast corridor, a large runner rug beneath his boots. You freeze in your stance— he’s still tall and a bit terrifying— but you know you can do this. It’s not like you have any other person to resort to speaking with. What’s the worst that could happen?

He glares down at you.

“Did you not use your ears either when I said that you were his responsibility? If you were mine, there wouldn’t be anymore left of you to approach me in the first place.”

“But, I just…” you trail off, turning your head to see smoke slowly wafting towards the both of you. Strangely enough, you couldn’t smell it. “I need…”

Vanilla Ice tsks at you.

“I don’t have time for this—”

“—I need you to explain all of this to me!” you bellow at him. “What the hell is going on?!”

Stepping towards you, your breath hitches at the sudden proximity with him. He’s still glaring down at you, and it only occurs to you now that you’ve rightfully pissed him off. So… now what?

As you thought earlier while you were still in Japan, were you going to die tonight? Not by the man in the orange robing as you assumed, no, but by Vanilla Ice? What was he going to do to you? You can’t call for help because someone stole your phone, you can’t run to anyone because you don’t know anyone here, so what…?

He turns around in a way that makes you get a face-full of his hair. Dumbfounded, you find yourself practically rooted into the runner rug as you stare at him. Vanilla Ice gives you one more sour glance before he disappears.

You don’t see him at the end of the corridor or anything. He hasn’t opened a door and left. As far as you know, there aren’t any secret openings that you can see.

He’s just… gone.

For some reason, each line of smoke seems to split into two as soon as it reaches the area in front of you, though the lines vaguely reconnect and drift in your direction. It’s as if there’s some obstacle before you, but it’s invisible. When your eyes glance downward and upward, you realize that the obstacle has to be floating. The smoke beneath and over it traveled normally.

There has to be something there, but you can’t see it. Your brows furrow, continuing to watch the ‘sight’ in front of you for signs of movement or of Vanilla Ice. Nothing. You felt cold all of a sudden, but nothing else.

Then, without thinking, you decide to step forward and reach out to… it.

It only occurs to you afterwards that that was a shit idea.

Out of nowhere, you abruptly find Vanilla Ice’s glaring expression open up out of the nothingness, and only that. It’s as if the rest of his head and body are covered by some invisibility cloak, because you literally only see his face. You yelp, you hurriedly move in a fashion that nearly makes you trip, your heart starts to palpitate—

—and you feel yourself being yanked by the forearm.

As if he had gotten caught, the view of Vanilla Ice’s face had shut again and vanished. In the corridor stood you, and now the man whose grip you vaguely recognize. The drifting smoke returned to normal.

“No,” the man in the orange robing bluntly tells you as you tumble backward. “You think I’d let you get out of this so easily? You think Lord Dio would allow that?”

…who?

You’re struggling to get away.

“Let me go—!”

“—he’d have my head, and he already has loads of donations, so please … just wait patiently— you are not going to commit suicide! You are not going to die in my supervision!”

Giving up on your search for the disappeared Vanilla Ice, you manage to jerk your arm out of the man’s grasp. As you take deep breaths, you scowl up at the man that resorts to crossing his arms over his chest.

“Wh— who is ‘Lord Dio’? What did that guy mean by ‘1980’? Where the hell did he go? Why am I in Egypt— you never even answered me!”

The man in the orange robing irritatedly sighed.

“…I have no obligation to tell you.”

Is he serious—

“But I know that you will pester me. That’ll disrupt my concentration, and if I end up doing anything out of line because of that, we both die. I’ll answer all of your questions, provided you don’t try to leave.”

He never promised that you wouldn’t get harmed or die.

You frowned, unsure of how to feel about this. “I… wasn’t trying to leave— I don’t know where or how to leave anyway. Nor was I trying to commit suicide like you suggested for… some reason. I was just trying to talk to him because I thought you weren’t going to tell me anything.”

Calming down, you realize that you might have a chance of leaving all of this behind alive if you cooperate with this. Said chance might be slim, but you hope that there’s a sliver of sympathy from him. Maybe this was just some huge misunderstanding.

These thoughts were only a foul attempt at making yourself feel better.

There’s still a better chance that you’ll die than live to get the hell out of here. At this point you were still wondering what you’ve done in your lifetime for something like all of this to happen to you. Everything you’ve done so far since you’ve been thrown into this place was done out of tiredness and desperation, even what you decide to do next.

He sighed.

“What Vanilla Ice used is called a Stand. It’s a physical manifestation of a person’s ‘life energy’ or ‘fighting spirit’,” the man explained first. He gestured for you to return to the room with the dated embroidered sofas. “Thing is… you couldn’t see him use it because you’re not a Stand user… you don’t have a Stand.”

Actually, forget if you were going to die tonight.

You’re probably already dead based on his bizarre explanations. There’s no way any of it is real.

——

It’s as if you’ve taken a freezer bag full of psilocybin mushrooms before having this conversation with the man, and that stuff’s not even legal back in Japan.

Nevertheless, you try to tolerate his presence as you both sit crisscrossed on the Ghalitcheh-format rug.

“You came from a dimension where Stands were shamed,” the man with the orange robing revealed. “Every method of obtaining a Stand later in life was damaged and disposed of as a result. The only remaining way to receive a Stand was through genealogy, but even then, the ability was treated as a mutation, a disease.”

According to the man, you’ve apparently traveled to a different universe as a result of his Stand. If you were a… Stand user… you would’ve been able to see the ‘pathway’ between yours and this one. It was more of a blink-and-you-miss-it trip to you.

Oh, and when Vanilla Ice said ‘1980’ being eight years ago? He also wasn’t kidding. This universe was 23 goddamn years into the past compared to yours. You weren’t even born yet. The specificity of traveling to 1988, however, wasn’t explained any further. Said he was under Lord Dio’s orders.

‘Lord Dio’ was apparently a man that he and Vanilla Ice worked for. Reportedly, he never went out during the day, so his ‘servants’ ended up doing a portion of the less-important work when the sun was up. Nighttime was a different story, the man in the orange robing commented, as Dio would partake in tasks he thought was only fit for himself. This included going through rounds of ‘candidates’, either sexually or murderously.

You didn’t need that last detail. The last thing you wanted was to imagine his faceless, godlike (his words) boss pounding into someone before torturing them.

“Now, I need to tell you this,” he starts, staring into your eyes. You realize that his eyes are dark blue. “But if you react negatively in any way— as in attacking me verbally or physically— I’ll divert from my task’s objectives and beat you to death and, subsequently, risk my own life. But I can get out easily. So‘s your call, really.”

You deadpanned. “I’ll try not to. And… and what is your ‘task’, exactly, I’d like to know—”

“—your husband, Noriaki Kakyoin, was born with the ability to use a Stand.”

…what?

“No,” you immediately deny, brows creasing. For some reason, you don’t question how or why he knew about your husband. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am,” he insisted, resting his elbows on his knees. How he managed to sit crisscrossed with his crotch-high boots was a mystery to you. “You’re not a Stand user, so it’s not like you’d be able to know.”

Frowning, you argue, “Well, yeah. But… but, I mean… he would tell me. He’d tell me that he’d have one. He wouldn’t keep… we made a promise…”

“It’s practically a death wish to have a Stand in your dimension,” he reminded impatiently, though it didn’t curb your confusion. “Also, your friend, Jotaro Kujo, had one as well. We Stand users tend to be familiar of other users, and in my case, even the ones who are in different dimensions.”

You didn’t know any of this.

To be honest, Noriaki and Jotaro did an excellent job hiding that aspect of them then. You hadn’t suspected anything different— they just seemed so… normal. If anyone else there had known that they had ‘Stands’, then they might’ve thought the same. Those two were the least expected people to possess something so otherworldly.

And you met and knew both of them.

You start to wonder if they made some pact to never tell you. Granted, they must’ve decided on something of the sort since they became friends in high school, vowing to never tell another soul about it for fear of ridicule. Especially considering how close you got with Noriaki and… well, what happened, it was definitely a secret that he took to the grave. Despite both of you promising to be transparent with one another after the first fertility clinic visit months ago, you didn’t feel upset or betrayed in the slightest anymore. He didn’t have a choice. He didn’t choose to have a ‘Stand’.

In the meantime, the man in the orange robing was sitting in contemplation. His eyes were focused on some corner of the room. Once he spoke up, you got snapped out your thoughts.

“What has started to preoccupy my thoughts is your predisposition to being in proximity with a Stand user,” he disclosed, crossing his arms over his chest. He then proceeded to lean forward to you, causing you to lean back with a sheepish face. “Meeting one Stand user is one thing, but… meeting two is a whole ‘nother can of worms you haven’t exactly opened yet.”

You blink at him. “So what if I meet… two ‘Stand users’? Why does it matter?”

The man in the orange robing abruptly straightens his back, hands resting on his knees.

“Because,” he stressed. “Back in 2011 in your dimension, there’s roughly seven billion people living on Earth. Here in 1988, it’s only a little over five billion— two billion less— but even in both populations, the likeliness of a non-Stand user getting pulled into a Stand user’s mess is rather slim… and I don’t mean as a mere casualty. No, it’s more complex than that.”

“Mess…?” you repeat, trailing off with a raised brow.

“Yes— mess,” he confirms. “It can be difficult to live a quiet life as a Stand user, because there will always be another user inexplicably attracted to any Stand-related predicament of ours. I’m not aware of any coherent reason; it’s just how our fates work. We’re bound to get into a little trouble from time to time.”

You scratch the back of your neck.

That could be another reason why Noriaki never told you about having a Stand.

“Anyhow, you would think there’s no reason for you— a non-Stand user— to be pulled into… this, right?” he inquired, now staring at you again. “Involving two Stand users, then… me, another Stand user, making three.”

“Maybe it’s just a weird coincidence,” you challenged. Honestly, this guy was about to go lengths to mind-fuck you with whatever he’s spewing at you right now.

Immediately, he shakes his head as he chuckles. He looked a little too pleased with himself, and you didn’t know whether to be worried or not.

“As far as I know, there are no coincidences with Stand users.”

His words eventually sink in.

You stiffen.

Time came to a standstill as you stared at him, dumbfounded.

Is…

Is he insinuating what you think he is?

“In 2011, I was traveling to Tokyo to… uh, see someone. I don’t go to Tokyo often, so I actually got lost afterward. However, while I was there… there was something in me that compelled me to traverse a particular route, even if it initially made no sense for me to go there. That particular route… lead me to you, in front of the apartment complex.”

There’s no way.

You scoff in disbelief.

“Last time I checked, I’m clearly not a… ‘Stand user’,” you say with a deadpan expression. “I don’t have one, like you said. You told me that you had one, Noriaki had one, Jotaro had one, and… I don’t. I can’t see yours and couldn’t see theirs. I don’t even know what a Stand is supposed to look like, I—”

“—no shit, I know you’re not a Stand user,” the man interjects, narrowing his eyes at you. “At least… not yet.”

“…not yet,” you flatly repeat.

“Not yet,” he reassures.

That’s all he says.

“But, why… ‘not yet’?” you ask.

Before he could respond— probably with something vague— he’s interrupted.

Out of the blue, a new male voice echoed off the walls and floors.

“You did not inform me that the woman with the Joestar child had no Stand.”

Joestar?

The man and you lock eyes for a moment. You swear you see a hint of fear in him, considering how his pupils dilate. Though, you could also feel your heartbeat getting faster for some reason.

Your brows furrow and your eyes dart around, trying to find the owner of the voice.

Shooting up from the floor, the man smooths out wrinkles from his robe and fixes the top hem of his crotch-high boots.

“I didn’t think her lack of a Stand was relevant,” the man in the orange robing admitted with partial confidence as he fixed himself.

The new voice let out a low hum.

“If I’m not mistaken, the father of the child had a Stand, correct?”

…uh, last time you checked, you were not showing at all. How did they even…

The man in the orange robing glances at you before responding, seemingly talking to the air.

“Yes, that counterpart of Jonathan Joestar’s great-great-grandson had a Stand, though it seems to be genetic. I don’t believe he got it by… any other means.”

You don't recognize the name.

“I see. You shall see yourself being rewarded within the next day or so, Piper.”

Hm.

So that’s his name.

“Kenny G already prepared the place. Escort her.”

After he gestured for you to stand up, you did as you were instructed. The sound of your broken laptop continued to clink and screech in your backpack as you walked out of the living room with him. You both return to the corridor, where you both stand on the runner rug once again. It’s strange to think that about an hour ago, Vanilla Ice’s Stand would’ve consumed you right here. You weren’t given any description as to what his Stand looked like, so that was going to be a missing piece of information in your memories.

“So,” you start, raising a brow at the man beside you. “Uh, where are we go—”

—the end of the corridor.

The aged stone walls are now directly in front of you two, and two sets of high double doors were on the left and right.

You slowly blink in confusion; you turn around to see meticulously-carved archway entrance to that room with the embroidered sofas.

That was all the way on the other end of the corridor. Though, it quickly became obscured by the recurring wafts of scentless smoke, and you couldn’t see it anymore.

It’s as if you’ve been teleported to a different part of the mansion. You blink and poof— you’re not in that end of the corridor. You’re on the other side.

Piper rubbed his face with one hand before tapping your shoulder. You returned to face him, which at that point he stepped towards the double doors on the left. He stares at you with an expression you can’t exactly pinpoint, but you follow him.

“This may or may not be the last time I see you,” he says, pursing his lips.

You donned a look of puzzlement. What did he mean by—

—again, he abruptly opens one of the double doors, shoving you through the space once again.

Fuming, you realize that you had almost forgotten that he did that to you when bringing you here. Hell, if you were insane enough, maybe you would’ve forgiven him as well.

Abruptly, you turn around to face the now-white door to bang your fist on it several times. The dark handleset door knob was no longer there; instead, it was a silver lever door knob. Much higher than the key lock was a door chain, also both silver. When you ‘knocked’, Piper never answered. You tried to unlock the door, but it was as if it was locked from the outside. The door chain just seemed redundant if that was the case.

The walls beside the door were white too. Beside your shoes is a small weave basket filled with house slippers. The flooring beneath that and your feet reminds you of a genkan, despite your location. But… it looked like yours.

Furrowing your brows, you turn around.

Holy shit.

You’re back at your apartment.

Narrowing your eyes at the familiar place— which was oddly clean, considering Friday— you take the time to see if this is really your place. Taking off your boots, you head into the cramped semi-open kitchen on the left. The cabinets and drawers are all the same style and placement as you remembered. Hell, even all of the appliances were the same.

Once you look past the open wall, you jolt backwards in shock. Your backpack nearly hits the back of the counter as your heart pounds.

Sitting at the round glass top table was a blond burly man. His sharp golden eyes locked with yours; a hint of fascination was in his look. Back straight against the chair, he continued to watch you as you slowly exited out of the kitchen and walked over to the dining table. There in the center was a crystal ball, though the small potted houseplant that was once there was now moved to sit on the floor beside his bare feet.

“Please, you must sit,” the blond man offers to you, gesturing to the chair across from him.

It’s the same voice as before.

Could he be…?

Eyeing him in suspicion, you pull out the chair and sit after taking off your backpack. He continues to stare at you, though you start to become a little uncomfortable. Not only by his eyes— which seem to never leave you— but by the fact that he’s also shirtless. Every muscle on his body seems to be bulging; you didn’t think that it’d be possible to get this muscular, but here he is. Luckily, he still had his pants on, which were golden with unused green suspenders.

His ridiculously long legs nearly intertwine with yours under the table. You notice the somewhat-faded scar that circled around his throat.

“I give my utmost sympathy to you,” he starts, expression softening. “I imagine that you are not coping well since becoming a widow, correct?”

Your brows furrow.

How did he know that too? What the fuck?

You feel the need to ask, but there's a part of you that thinks that it's a bad idea to do so. So you don't, as much as you want to.

“Before you assume otherwise, Piper had been the one to inform me of such matters. I take it that you are… aware of his abilities?”

“Uh, yeah,” you say offhandedly. “The dimension-hopping, the… ‘knowing-about-other-Stand-users’ thing. I guess that explains how you knew my… status, and all.”

“Yes.”

For a moment, you both continue to stare at one another. Neither of you say anything.

You clear your throat in awkwardness.

In response, he lets out a low hum.

“You’re… Dio, aren’t you? ‘Lord Dio’, as Piper calls you?”

Dio nods.

“Okay, anyway, um… what’s with the crystal ball? It’s just been sitting here, and uh, well… you moved my plant.”

He tittered.

“What your heart desires will appear here,” Dio says, gesturing to the crystal ball that sat before the both of you. His large, oddly smooth hand hovers over the sphere for an unusual amount of time, and you feel the hairs at the back of your neck stand up. There’s a look of uncertainty plastered on your face; you’re not really getting the purpose of him… showing what you ‘desire’. But there’s one thing you ask yourself.

Would… would your husband appear?

Inside the crystal ball was only fog for a few seconds. There wasn’t any distinct shape— it kept twisting and twisting and you lean forward in anticipation. Your eyes continue to watch the crystal ball, and they continue to do so until you start to make out an eerily familiar sight. Your breath hitches.

Noriaki, now alive and well, appears in the lens of the sphere as hypothesized.

He’s radiant as you remembered him, cherry earrings shimmering from the light he stood under. The second he turned around, a wide smile was plastered on his face. It’s as if you lock eyes with him again, his lavender-grey eyes glinting and its outer corners crinkling. From the neck down he seemed to be nude, but that was the least of your worries. You watch him bring a hand up to his red hair to comb the voluminous side bang.

It suddenly occurs to you that this is the last time that you’ll ‘see’ him, but yes, you desperately wanted him alive again. There’s a part of you that wanted you to disregard all of this, to think that this was just an intricately gruesome nightmare all along. You wanted to deny the fact that your husband would no longer stand beside you, and only now does it really and fully sink in.

You will never see him again.

You will be alone.

You felt the sting of your eyes starting to water.

Dio had been watching you the entire time with creased brows. He asks with a gentle tone, “Do you see… him?”

Silently nodding, you wipe your eyes with your sleeve. His hand— the one not hovering over the crystal ball— now resorted to holding your other hand, his thumb lightly brushing your skin. His golden eyes lock with yours as you look up at him; you see his sadness, his sympathy. Though you haven’t known him for very long, you somewhat appreciate his unorthodox form of consolation. Dio must’ve known deep down that you desired Noriaki’s return some amount of time before you did. There was a part of you that started to feel useless for not noticing from the get-go.

“You are a woman burdened with grief,” he whispered, calmly lifting a hand in between you two. The sight of Noriaki in the crystal ball immediately disappeared like mist. “It would be inconvenient for you to live the remainder of your life without meaningful direction.”

Yeah, it does seem pretty inconvenient…

Dio’s eyes briefly avert from yours; in fact, he turns his head to the corner of the apartment, to the window beside the television. You’re not sure what he was trying to look at.

His hand seems to be reaching for your face now. Was he… going to stroke your cheek or something? Honestly, that’s a little weird—

—gah—!

Dio decided to go for a more… direct approach.

Everything during and after this happens so quick you can barely comprehend what’s happening.

First of all— what the hell— his fingers dart to your forehead, and the second you feel your skin being stabbed through by the tips of his fingers, you scream. It’s like needles, yes, it’s a small bundle of godawful needle-like things that pierce directly into the layers of your skin down to your skull and what—

—you scream even louder, and your hands immediately move up to grab onto Dio’s forearm. His fingers don’t budge; it’s as if they’re cemented onto your forehead, and you feel like you’re going to pass out from the intrusive pain that he unleashes. As you attempt to pull his arm away, your fingernails create deep scratches into his otherwise flawless skin. You see the skin swell up directly under the scratches as his blood starts to spill out of the thin slits. The feeling of light-headedness starts to surge through you, and you feel the slow ooze of blood from your forehead down the bridge of your nose.

What… what is he doing?!

You have to resort to your other senses, which in that case you hear footsteps rushing away and slamming the ‘bathroom’ door.

Out of nowhere, everything starts to fall.

The white walls of your apartment are slowly eaten by the dark walls of the mansion, the brown hardwood floor beneath you vanishing piece by piece in replacement of the stone floor. The windows slowly disintegrate and no longer are you or Dio being illuminated by the fake light ‘outside’. The two sofas, the television, the coffee table, the rug, and the rack of video games all disappear from the living room. The glass-top dining table and wooden chairs beside it transition into the cracked wooden table and cushioned high-back chairs— you feel it, in fact— yet the crystal ball remains. That’s all that remains, and you remember where you are again. Everything had been an illusion.

In your peripheral vision you see… flesh-colored tentacles of some sort. One of your hands reaches up to your forehead in an attempt to grab it, but your hand is struck and smacked. No, not by Dio, but by the tentacle-thing itself— its attack creates a thin slice on your hand, the sound of you gasping at the cut and the slow rush of blood makes Dio simper. The tentacles return to where your skull had been practically drilled in, swiftly rushing through your head like a series of mini bullet-trains.

His fingers continue to hold onto your forehead, restricting any possible movement. You can’t even move your own legs to kick at him or get up or anything . It’s as if you’ve lost all feeling to the lower half of your body— you’re stuck. You’re stuck for heaven’s sake. Your eyes are wide, helplessly darting from the high ceiling to the walls to the floor to Dio and his too-satisfied smirk to… the corner of the room.

One of your senses still works, at least.

You hear quiet footsteps.

At a distance behind Dio was a short elderly woman, face embedded with wrinkles. She’s approaching slowly, though this might be due to her old age. Your body remains paralyzed as your eyes attempt to focus on her.

Who is she?

Was she part of this too?

“You are fortunate to be in the worldly presence of Lord Dio,” the old woman compliments, sadism seeping from her voice. “If potential is what he sees in you, then as his most loyal servant, I must take his beliefs to heart. Hehe! As such, there has been a change in plans.”

...potential?

“You will be thankful for I, Enya Geil, for this, should you live.”

Your face contorted in anger— what the hell did she mean by that? What the hell did you get roped into? Why—

The sight of her expertly drawing a Bow and Arrow in your direction made you squirm, but Dio’s hold on your head restricted all other movement. You wanted to scream, swear, shriek but goddamn for some reason you couldn’t bring yourself to do so, it’s like Dio was controlling your mind and controlling every one of your thoughts and words and processes and… and…

Before you realize it, you got thrown back, the chair you sat in toppling over with you.

Lord Dio’s fingers were no longer cemented into your forehead, but you were on the floor. The back of your head is throbbing from the sudden impact with the stone.

You’re… choking.

Holy fucking shit — did… oh my fucking God…

The fletchings of the Arrow is all you can see, but barely.

You feel the searing, sharp pain of the Arrow’s head stabbed into the start of your trachea— your neck, it’s paralyzed— you’re paralyzed even more— though you’re not sure if it’s the nerves getting hit or your emotional shock from being hit with the projectile. There’s no way your desperate need to scream again is getting fulfilled anytime soon.

The Arrow’s intrusion causes your gag reflex to trigger, but it’s lodged well into your throat. You feel a long vertical cut on your tongue and on the roof of your mouth from the Arrow’s intricately-carved head— you hack up blood, the warm and metallic-tasting liquid splattering and dripping down your mouth and chin due to its short trajectory. Tears start to build up and flow down your cheeks with little effort. You’re getting blinded and the darkness of the room isn’t helping one bit.

This old bitch fucking shot you.

You mean… who in their right mind decides to shoot someone in the fucking throat with a Bow and Arrow out of nowhere? Why did Lord Dio not react like a normal person? No shock, no attempt to help, he’s just… watching you slowly bleed to death. His chair screeches as he slides it back to stand up. Your blood continues to spurt and drip, staining the Arrow’s head and that half of the shaft. Beside you on the floor is your backpack, still containing the broken laptop parts. The hardware’s edges through your barely-durable bag start to make marks on your legs. You’re waiting, you’re waiting… you’re waiting for the onset of death, for your eyes to stop darting around, for your head and arms and legs to stop slightly twitching, for your heartbeat to come to an end.

…either dying is taking up much more time that you expected or… you don’t know. But you’re not getting dead for some reason.

Suddenly, you feel the upper half of your body being hoisted up from the floor.

With one of his large, smooth hands, Lord Dio firmly grabs the side of your face and keeps it still. Your pupils shift to see the alabaster skin the best you could in your position; his thumb is right under your lower eyelid, fingers buried in your scalp. His hand is surprisingly cold.

Then, with the other hand, he wraps his fingers around the Arrow’s shaft.

He tugs.

A wheezed scream erupts out of your vocal cords. Your body tenses up at the feeling of Lord Dio trying to pull the Arrow out of your throat. You feel the cuts on the roof of your mouth and your tongue getting deeper— it’s like he’s trying to make the slashes worse. Yet, your body continues to betray you. You still can’t move. What he does is hurting you, fuck, why is he struggling, why is it taking Lord Dio so long to pull a fucking Arrow out of your throat, you mean, he has the muscle, he should have the capability to do so… goddamn he is taking way too long to pull this piece of shit out of your throat and… and you know what?

You know what?

An… android’s hand… forcefully grabs onto the shaft of the Arrow, aiding Lord Dio in the effort of pulling. Once he successfully yanks it from your throat, he steps back, grasping onto the Arrow as he stared down at you with wide eyes. There’s a genuine look of surprise on his face as he watched you fall forward. As you fall, you see Enya with the Bow, you see the table with the crystal ball, you see Lord Dio’s long legs, you see the floor, you’re ready to smash your face into the stone.

But you don’t.

You hear the clank of metal. You feel your limbs— your entire body— enveloped with the metallic material. Your clothes are no longer on your body, and it’s as if they weren’t under the metal either.

Their voices become mumbles to you as you continue to rest face-down on the stone floor, unable to move your body. You can’t bring a hand to your lower abdomen to hold in a motherly fashion. During that whole situation, it just seemed like you’ve lost all strength. Were you ever going to be able to move again? Did they just incapacitate you? What… what exactly have you done to deserve this?

If only Noriaki could see what was happening to you.

“She… wears her Stand?”

——

[STAND NAME]

???

[STAND MASTER]

You

——

--> To Be Continued -->

Up Next: Plane tickets, Polaroid photos, and yours & Jotaro's response to Noriaki's infertility.

Link to the Table of Contents

16 notes · View notes

ft-dads-au · 5 years ago

Text

Once Upon a Nightmare - Chapter 2

Shadowlight Week 2020 Prompt: Duality Pairing: Sting x Rogue

A Collaboration by @mdelpin and @oryu404

AO3 | Prev: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Next: Ch 3

Summary: After learning what happened to Rogue in his absence, all Sting wants is to talk about it and support him as much as he can. Rogue, however, just wants to pretend it never happened, like he's done all along, leaving them on opposite sides.

Chapter 2: Duality

Rogue didn’t want to be by himself, but the alternative was even worse. He couldn’t bear to see the look on Sting’s face when he found out what had happened. Had never wanted him to find out in the first place.

In hindsight, Rogue wondered what he’d been thinking all this time, offering half-truths and distractions just so he could keep running from his nightmare, knowing god damn well he had nowhere to run. Now his nightmare had finally caught up to him, swept his legs out from beneath him, and caused him to inadvertently hurt Sting in the process. That was something he’d never considered during all those moments when he’d had the chance to be honest. One by one, he’d let them slip away, and now shit was going to hit the fan, and he’d have no one to blame but himself.

What would Sting think of him now? Would he believe him when he said he hadn’t wanted it? That he’d fought Maru off as best he could. Or would he see those as excuses?

Rogue's hands shook as he reached for his pack of cigarettes, desperate for something to do to help take his mind off what was happening in the bedroom. He felt caged, like an animal with nowhere to go but with too much energy to stay where he was. And as much as he’d love to step outside, he knew he’d only feel even more vulnerable. That left him only one choice - the basement.

Rogue descended the stairs to the basement his father and Gildarts had finished years ago, flicking on a single light and walking over to the large bar to examine its contents. He settled on a bottle of the whiskey Gildarts preferred, poured himself a drink, and lit a cigarette as he sat down to wait.

0-0

Sting felt sick to his stomach all over again, and yet he’d read every word twice to make sure that he wasn’t imagining things, letting the sentences they formed sink in one by one. Once he was done, he was still staring blankly at the page, defeated and numb from learning the truth he’d been so eager to learn.

He hadn’t really had any idea what to expect, but a violent sexual assault had never entered his mind. A part of him understood why Rogue hadn’t been willing to talk about it. Another wondered how he’d been able to carry it around for- he quickly did the math- almost 7 months. And all this time, he’d had no clue.

If only he’d been more observant, maybe then he would’ve caught on to the fact that there was something more disturbing going on in Rogue’s life than just the issues regarding his family.

If only he’d taken that little voice in the back of his head more seriously when it had been expressing concerns during the time they’d spent together around Christmas.

If only he’d known sooner so Rogue wouldn’t have been dealing with this alone for so long.

Screw that. If only he’d never left, it wouldn’t have happened in the first place.

Sting dropped the notebook on the bed as he hid his face in his hands. All the why’s and if only’s were going through his head, repeating themselves like a broken record as he picked at his memory and felt the guilt weigh him down until they led him back to the events of that day. Specifically that morning, when he’d found Totomaru on their doorstep.

“I didn’t know you were back.”

“I was hoping to speak to Rogue?”

Speak to Rogue? What the hell was this sick fucker getting at? Sting tried but failed to stop himself from imagining what could’ve happened if he hadn’t been there. If Totomaru had shown up a week or even a few minutes earlier. He should consider himself lucky that Sting didn't know then what he knew now, because if he did, not even his own mother would have been able to recognize him. The towel around his waist would have done nothing to stop him.

Sting knew he couldn’t stay in this room for much longer, Rogue was bound to be waiting for his reaction, and it wouldn't do him any good if he'd let his emotions prevail, but he couldn’t seem to make himself move. He didn’t know what to do or what to say, and within him, there grew a great fear that somehow he’d only manage to make things worse. Do or say the wrong thing.

But doing nothing at all would be the worst thing he could possibly do. So with no clear idea or plan, he forced himself to calm down and get up from the bed, returning the journal to the drawer from which Rogue had grabbed it, knowing intuitively that his boyfriend wouldn’t want to see it when he returned.

He left the refuge the bedroom afforded him, and when he didn’t find Rogue in the living area or the backyard, he made his way down the basement stairs.

0-0

Time had ceased to have any meaning for Rogue as he sat on a barstool in the near dark, its passage only marked by the number of cigarette butts that littered the ashtray and the ounces of whiskey he’d downed as he waited. Its smooth taste bitterly reminding him of better times he’d spent in this room and the people that had been part of them. People that had left him behind or that he had sent away.

The sound of Sting’s approaching footsteps sounded loud in the otherwise silent house, and Rogue could feel his heart begin to race in apprehension. What was he going to say?

His hands, which had finally settled, began to shake once again. In the time he’d sat there, he’d managed to run many scenarios through his head, but he still didn’t know what to expect.

He moved towards the wall where they kept the cue sticks for their pool table, realizing he didn’t want to be found wallowing in alcohol. He grabbed a stick and approached the table, not bothering to set up a game, merely going after whatever ball was closest.

He could see Sting's silhouette appear out of the corners of his eyes, casting a striking figure behind the wisps of smoke that curled in the air, but Rogue didn't stop to look up from his game. Sting hesitated for a few seconds, there wasn't a sound but the click of the cue stick hitting a ball and the dull thuds that followed when it bounced back against the felt-covered sides of the pool table.

"It's been a while," Sting finally pointed out as he made his way over to the bar, grabbing a glass and pouring a drink from the same bottle of whiskey, and it wasn’t until he’d taken a sip and continued that Rogue realized that he was referring to the last time he'd played a game of pool. "Can I join you?"

Rogue nodded and put his cue down so he could gather the balls and rack them for a standard game of eight ball. They played in awkward silence for a couple of turns, all the while he was wondering if Sting was waiting for him to address the obvious or if he’d decided not to speak about it at all, and Rogue wasn’t sure how to feel about either option. Hoping to find the answer hidden in his expression, he forced himself to look.

Maybe Sting had been awaiting that or perhaps it was just a coincidence. Either way, he came closer, extending his arms for a hug but stopping at the last second.

“I’m sorry-” he sat down on the edge of the pool table, “I- I don’t really know what to say... what he did to you was despicable. I get that it was hard for you to talk about, and I wish I hadn’t pressed the way I did.”

Rogue slowly released the breath he’d been holding in, resting the end of the pool cue on the floor and gripping it firmly with both hands as if it was his only tether to reality. Once again he nodded, to indicate that he understood and harbored no hard feelings towards it. At this point, he was just glad that his story wasn’t being called into question, and even though he wished it had gone differently, he knew that he hadn’t really made any other outcome feasible.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you really needed me,” Sting continued, “if I had been, it wouldn’t have happened.”

“It isn’t your fault,” Rogue shrugged, focusing his attention back on the game, pretending that that thought hadn’t crossed his mind at least once during his deepest lows. “And we’ll never know that for sure anyway.”

“Are they always that bad?” Sting asked, and for a moment Rogue was confused, until he remembered the nightmare that had brought all this about.

“No,” he was quick to assure him, “This one was the worst I’ve had in a while.”

His thoughts inadvertently went back to the nightmare, which used to be a repetitive reconstruction of the attack but had taken a different course that night.

Instead of the alley, the scene had taken place in their home this time. Starting at the front door and ending in the bedroom. Rogue guessed that his panic at seeing Maru through the peephole that morning had a role in that, but unlike what he’d done then, he was stupid enough to open the door in his dream, with all its terrible consequences.

And dream-him had known exactly what those consequences would be, but still, his body had moved, ignoring his mind even as it had screamed no.

It had only gotten worse when Sting had tried to wake him up from it, giving the original ending a twist on top of that, but Rogue decided to leave all of that out. There was enough guilt to go around between them as it was, the last thing he wanted was to keep piling it up. He drank what remained inside his glass in one sip, swallowing hard at the burn in his throat.

“Can I- uhm, can I take a look at your scratches?”

Rogue stared at Sting blankly, not entirely sure how he felt about it.

“I swear I can hear my dad yelling at me for not doing it already, especially with the smoke.”

Rogue managed a wry chuckle, knowing Sting wasn’t just trying to be funny. And maybe it was the relief talking or his need for things to return to some sort of normalcy, no matter how slight, but he found himself nodding in silent agreement.

“Okay,” Sting said softly, putting his cue stick back up on the wall and waiting for Rogue to do the same before leading him back upstairs to their bathroom, where they kept all the first aid supplies.

0-0

After washing his hands with antibacterial soap, Sting busied himself searching for the supplies he would need to patch Rogue up. He ran the list through his mind, cotton swabs, hydrogen peroxide, antibacterial ointment, gauze, medical tape. Once he found each item, he placed it on the counter, feeling the weight of Rogue’s gaze as he did so.

Even though he remained outwardly calm, Sting was still reeling from the shock he’d felt at reading the diary. His every move was marked with apprehension, his thoughts carefully filtered and examined before he let them spill out of his mouth, and it was entirely outside the realm of his experience. He’d always been one to just blurt out whatever he was thinking without much thought to the consequences.

Knowing that could prove disastrous on this occasion, he willed himself to focus only on the angry red marks on Rogue’s neck, hoping that in doing so, he’d manage to keep himself under control. Sting opened the bottle of hydrogen peroxide and grabbed a cotton swab before turning to find Rogue was indeed watching him, eyes slightly hooded, nose wrinkled in distaste as the smell of the chemical filled the room.

“Do you have to use that stuff?” Rogue frowned, his features settling into a pout. “It always stings.”

Any other time Sting would have been amused by the childish attitude but faced with the seriousness of the scratches in front of him, he could barely muster a reassuring smile.

“It only hurts for a second,” he soothed, “Besides, it needs to be done. Lots of nasty stuff hides underneath your fingernails,” he reminded him, beginning to wet the swab with the hydrogen peroxide, “You don’t want them to get infected.”

As he leaned closer to get a better view of what he’d be working on, he found himself shuddering at the sight of an injury for the first time in years. He’d seen plenty of them, his parents had taken him along to the clinic since he’d been deemed old and responsible enough, and this certainly wasn’t the worst he’d ever laid his eyes on. But it was different when it was someone you loved rather than a random patient, and what unsettled him the most was knowing that Rogue had caused them himself.

Pressing down the swab as gently as he could manage on the worst of the scratches, he heard the bubbling sound of the chemical as it cleaned out the area and flinched at the accompanying hiss from Rogue. It made him wonder just how badly he had looked after the attack and if he had even bothered to get himself looked at. Sting had a feeling he knew the answer.

Once again, he was consumed by rage, and he stepped back for a moment, masking his anger under the pretense of wetting another swab. How could anyone do that to another person? He tried his best to shake it off and regain his focus so he could finish the job, but when he approached Rogue again, he noticed him startling and ducking away in reflex, all tensed up.

It had little to do with the peroxide, it was the touch itself that he was having trouble enduring.

“Would you rather do it yourself?” Sting asked, keeping his tone as neutral as he could manage, offering him the swab after he tried again and noticed the discomfort oozing from Rogue’s features.

Rogue shook his head, and Sting could have kicked himself for being so insensitive. Rogue had written in his journal that he was no longer comfortable looking in the mirror, which he would need to do given the location of the scratches.

“I’ll hurry,” Sting promised, and with trembling hands, he did just that, using up two more swabs before he was done. Nothing in his life had prepared him for dealing with something like this, and to his frustration, the more he tried to be careful, the more mistakes he seemed to make.

What could he possibly say to make Rogue feel better? He racked his brain, trying to think of anything but came up empty.

It wasn’t your fault, you didn’t do anything wrong!

Sting screamed the words so loudly in his head he was sure Rogue must be able to hear them. He threw the bits of bloody cotton in the trash, closing the bottle and reaching for the antibiotic cream.

He hesitated briefly, knowing this part would be tricky as he’d have to touch Rogue’s skin directly. Hadn’t he done that before? During the past week, during Rogue’s visit to Edolas? More than likely, but as much as he tried, he couldn’t remember getting a reaction that hinted at something being wrong. Whether he’d been too caught up in the moment or Rogue had just kept it hidden really well, he disliked both answers.

“I’m almost done,” he informed Rogue, offering a small smile.

“It’s fine,” Rogue assured him with eyes full of a trust that tore at Sting’s heartstrings. Had he looked at Totomaru like that once?

Sting made himself a promise right then and there that he would strive to always be worthy of that trust. Squeezing a glob of the cream onto his fingers, he moved closer, and although he attempted to appear confident, the shakiness of his hand gave him away. Before he had a chance to say something to lighten the moment, Rogue surprised him by grabbing his wrist and slowly guiding it to his neck. It was a simple gesture, but it broke him all the same.

He felt the tears he’d been holding back stream down his cheeks, and there was nothing he could do to hide them, not when Rogue was so close to him.

“I’m sorry, it’s just-,” Sting wiped away at his tears with his other hand.

“That you’re a big crybaby?” Rogue teased him, a reference to all the times Sting had cried during movies.

“Yeah, that too,” he managed to chuckle through his sniffles, “but I’m...I guess just so overwhelmed. I’m really glad you’re sharing all this with me, but at the same time I’m also angry because this shouldn’t have happened to you, and it wasn’t your fault, and I want to be there for you, but I just don’t know what to do.”

He paused his acute word-vomit to take a breath, but before he could say anything else, Rogue stopped him cold.

“I get that you want to talk about this, and I do appreciate it, but I’m not ready to do that yet,” Rogue refused to meet his eyes, “I know that’s not what you want to hear, but it’s how I feel at the moment.”

Wasn’t ready to talk about it, not ready? What did he mean? It had been seven months already! Sting couldn’t even begin to understand those words. He tried to put himself in Rogue’s place, but he just couldn’t imagine letting something fester for that long.

Still, he felt like he should respect his wishes, even if only for tonight. It had been a long emotional night for both of them, and if that was what Rogue needed to feel better, then he would honor it.

For now.

“Okay,” he replied simply and began to wash the cream off his hand and put the supplies away, not even bothering with the gauze, already knowing Rogue would balk at the suggestion.

0-0

Rogue retreated to the bedroom the moment Sting was done with the cleanup, wanting to get out of the bathroom and away from that mirror. He didn't want to be there for longer than necessary either. One look at the bed had him seeing flashes of the nightmare all over again. So he grabbed his pillow and resigned himself to another night of sleeping on the couch. If he was able to get back to sleep at all, that was.

Sting had followed him up to the bed but remained there, awkwardly looking back and forth between his sleeping spot and Rogue without a clue of what to do.

"I'm going to the living room," Rogue announced, clutching the pillow under his arm, "do you want to come with me?" He cringed at the way that sounded because he usually wouldn't even have to ask, let alone wonder what the answer would be.

"Do you want me to?"

He forced what he hoped would look like a reassuring smile and nodded. The last thing he wanted right now was to be alone, knowing that it would only cause his thoughts to go rampant again. He doubted that it would be any different for Sting, who returned his smile with an equally weak one and grabbed his pillow off the bed before following him into the living room.

The scratches on his throat were still stinging from the peroxide, causing them to itch and irritate, and Rogue had to keep himself from making all the time and energy they'd just spent in the bathroom become in vain by scratching at them all over again. He hated the constant reminder, although he knew Sting had been right, and it was better than risking the chance of getting an infection, so he turned on the TV, hoping for some distraction.

"Wanna Netflix?" he asked, dumping his pillow in the corner of their large L-shaped couch and tucking himself underneath one of the blankets that were lying around.

"Yeah, sure," Sting replied. He sat down at the other end of the couch, and the sensible part of Rogue told him that it was probably just to give him some space, but the currently more dominant voice of anxiety suggested something else.

He browsed through the selection of available movies and series until he found something that countered his dark thoughts, a cutesy anime he thought would be right up Sting's alley. The intro started, filling the room with low volume cheerful tunes, but the distance between them set this moment apart from any other they'd spent watching TV together.

This was precisely what Rogue had feared would happen. The revelation was driving a wedge between them, even if, despite everything, Sting had responded to it better than he could've hoped. He didn't want this, he'd lost and locked out so many people he cared about already, and for once, he was yearning for someone to just hold him and tell him that everything would be okay, without wasting any words on it.

"Could you sit with me?" he pleaded softly, the idea of asking this from usually touchy-feely Sting so alien it made his gut wrench. He knew that he only had himself to blame for it because of his withdrawn behavior, so now it was up to him to fix it, and thankfully Sting moved closer without any objections.

Not close enough, so Rogue draped the other end of the blanket over him and curled up against his side. "I'm sorry," he spilled, hoping to get some conversation going and needing to get at least this off his chest, "for uh…kneeing you."

"It's fine," Sting assured him, "I know you didn't do it on purpose. I guess I was in the wrong place at the wrong time." He hesitated for a few seconds, tentatively wrapping an arm around him, "You know…If you do feel like you're ready to talk about it, I'll always be there. I'm not going anywhere."

It was everything Rogue needed to hear right now, and he didn't even bother to hold back the tears caused by the sudden rush of emotion that came over him. It would've been like carrying sand to the beach anyway because the “I love you” that followed would've shattered any resistance Rogue might have had.

He somehow managed to get out an “I love you too” and closed his eyes, all of his tension melting away into something as simple as a warm embrace. Mind now at ease, his body was quick to shut itself down, and telling himself that as long as Sting was there, he'd be alright, Rogue had no trouble falling asleep after a nightmare for the first time.

0-0

The opening theme of episode 6 -or maybe it was 5- was playing joyfully in the background, but even though Sting's eyes had been glued to the tv for god knows how long by now, he still had no idea what the show was about. The light of dawn was creeping in through the dining room’s sliding door, and yet he hadn't slept a wink since he'd woken up from his dream.

Snippets of phrases he’d read in the journal kept replaying in his head as he looked down at Rogue’s face, finally at peace in his slumber, and he was gripped with an intense desire to protect him from the world. To search out the person who had dared to put him through this hell and teach him a lesson he’d never forget.

He allowed himself a minute to fantasize about it, but it felt empty. Even though it would be satisfying in the short term, it wouldn’t do anything to change what had already happened, and quite likely might put him on a plane back to Edolas.

No, as frustrating as it was, the only one who could help Rogue out of this situation was Rogue himself. All Sting could really do was to offer him as much support as he was able to ride out this new awkwardness they were experiencing and not let it drive a wedge between them.

And as much as he respected that Rogue didn’t want to talk about it, he did. He needed to talk about what had happened and to work out his own role, if any. To know how to help his boyfriend without being always worried he was making things worse, and that left him in a very uncomfortable place. But how was he supposed to process this without betraying Rogue’s trust, and how could he coax him towards a point where he would consider getting help? It wasn’t hard to see, now that he knew what to look for, that Rogue was going to need it to find himself again.

More than anything, Sting wanted their relationship to work out, he’d moved to Magnolia with lots of ideas and dreams of a shared future after all, and he’d be damned to see it all collapse a week in. He’d find a way, of that he was certain. He was a fighter, and he had no intention of giving up on Rogue without a fight, but he could only hope that that fight wouldn’t accomplish the very opposite of what he wanted.

One thing was for sure: they were in for a rough ride. Some of the worst was yet to come, and as he held on to Rogue as tightly as he dared, Sting tried to catch some sleep, hoping it would give him the energy needed to walk through the emotional minefield again when he’d wake up in a few hours.

#fairy tail #ftdadsau #shadowlightweek2020 #stingue #ftlgbtales #fics #update #prompt: duality

12 notes · View notes

paladin-andric · 6 years ago

Text

An Enemy Within

A sequel to Darkest Hour! A short story set in an alternate, grim future where the human race was nearly annihilated, the last known holdout being a small colony in a bunker deep underground. In this, we learn of the surprising fate of one of the previous characters, and more about the survivors! This bunker-colony is pretty heavily influenced by XCOM. Speaking of which...mood music!

“So that’s the plan.”

The group of officers leaned over a round table of metal, staring up at the mystifying scene above them. Floating above the table, a holographic globe of the planet sat silently, ever so slowly spinning.

They were in the command room, the heart of strategic operations in the resistance. Though humanity was relegated to a small group of survivors in this underground bunker, that didn’t leave them helpless.

The best and brightest they had to offer had invented so many useful things, both on their own and using the stolen technology from the monsters above.

The bastion of humans were extremely militarized, acting more like a special forces division rather than a colony. That was born of necessity, though.

With such low numbers, they needed as many people able to handle themselves as possible.

It had been hundreds of years since the vile sorcerer succeeded in his plot. He poisoned the very air of the world, and all who were exposed turned into hideous abominations, utterly obedient towards the dark sorcerer, who now ruled the world in an iron grip.

Those scant few who managed to seal themselves away waited. They hid and hid for generations, until technology allowed them to seal themselves in suits that could keep them safe from the elements above. Now, they carried out a guerilla campaign against the sorcerer, determined to send him and all his mindless slaves to hell.

In the most recent operation, the survivors investigated a tip of a possible other bastion of survivors, still untouched by the infectious air on the surface. On their way however, they were ambushed by the sorcerer’s minions, and none survived.

Well, except for...him.

He stood with the officers, observing the hologlobe along with them, nodding along and acting as if nothing was wrong.

The fact that he WAS one of those monsters, however, made the scene very unsettling for Albert.

The “man” was a biped with two arms, but that was where the similarities ended. He was covered head to toe in black scales, towered above the others, looked wide enough to stop a car in its tracks, had monstrous, clawed hands and feet, a long tail, and bore a terrifying reptilian visage.

He looked like any other one of those horrible beasts up above...and yet here he was, standing in the beating heart of the last holdout of the human race, somehow not being gunned down right where he stood.

Ah, but that was because he was still sane.

That’s what they had told everyone when he returned, his suit in tatters, clutching his head and groaning quietly, before he was tied down and dragged off into the medical ward, and everyone else was ushered back to their posts.

It had been over a week since that day. Apparently, he was all good now...but was he really?

As the officers all disbanded and walked off to wherever it was they were headed, the monster remained behind, still staring up at the hologlobe. The young soldier approached, causing the beast to turn its inhuman eyes toward him.

Albert felt his heart thud against his chest, half expecting the thing to surge forward and tear his heart out in one swift motion.

But he WASN’T an “it”, and he didn’t do anything of the sort.

“Ah, Albert.” the voice was unlike any the man had ever heard, deep, warbling and distorted...almost as if a demon was standing before the human, speaking to him.

It threw him for quite a loop, and he was certain he failed to hide his fear, but Albert nodded. “Err, Captain Fields, sir.”

“Please. Jacob will do.”

He couldn’t discern the look on the creature’s face. Of course he couldn’t. He could read humans, not...these things!

“Uhh...alright, Jacob.”

The reptilian beast drummed his claws against the metal table in a steady rhythm. “Is there any reason you’re here? I don’t dare imagine you came to see my good looks.” Jacob followed that up with a short, shallow laugh.

“No sir. I just, well…” he hesitated. It was a stupid question, and he was an idiot for bothering with it, but he went ahead anyway.

The soldier cleared his throat. “I was just wondering…” he leaned in close, voice dropping to a whisper. “...what’s it like?”

“What do you THINK it’s like?!” Jacob countered. Even though his visage was utterly alien to him, Albert could tell from the way his brows furrowed and eyes narrowed that he was angry.

The soldier didn’t have any reply. He couldn’t think of anything to say at all.

The monstrous thing sighed and shook his head. “It’s horrible. I keep thinking this is some nightmare I’m gonna wake up from, but every morning I open my eyes, and every morning I’m still THIS,” he said, sweeping his clawed hands over himself.

Albert could almost swear the lizard-thing looked crushed as he finished. “This is hell.”

The soldier struggled to find words. “T-that’s...shit, man.”

The creature turned back to the table and resumed leaning, head lowered. He nodded. “Yeah. It is.”

The once-human’s words were nearly inaudible, he spoke them so quietly

Albert felt a pit in his gut. He really didn’t know what he was expecting, but...this was difficult to stomach. Despite how monstrous and terrifying the creature next to him looked, he could only imagine the man he once knew, looking crushed and forlorn as he stewed over his fate.

There was a lengthy period where both men stood in silence, leaning over the table and staring down at nothing in particular. After a while longer, Albert finally found his voice again.

“I was wondering something.”

“Mhm?”

“Well...from what I’ve always been told...there’s no coming back from this. Once you turn...you’re a monster, a mindless animal, a killer. No one’s ever...turned...and come back.” The soldier finally looked up and over at Jacob. “How did you do it?”

The reptilian tapped his claws against the table once more. “I’ve told this story a million times before.”

“Shit, man, I’m sorry-”

“No, no,” Jacob said sadly, “It’s...it’s fine.”

With a deep breath, the former human repeated what he’d told all the doctors and officers before.

“We got ambushed...I took a shot and went down. I lost consciousness. Dunno how long went by, but by the time I woke up, the things were gone...and everyone else was dead. I-I realized my suit got torn open from the hit, and I started hobbling back. My mask ran out of reserve air, and so I started breathing in the surface air...by the time I got back...I was already one of them.”

Albert grimaced. “Oh God…”

“I heard voices, screaming, had these urges. It was...I guess it’s the same stuff everyone else feels when they turn...but thank God, I was already back here. Nearly got plugged full of holes, but I surrendered and by some miracle, they took me in instead of shooting me.”

“Voices? Urges?”

“The dark one’s corruption,” Jacob answered, “Doctors said the infection shatters your mind, and rebuilds you into a beast that answers only to him. I couldn’t have resisted much longer. If we were any further away when that happened...they’d know our location by now. If I hadn’t blown my brains out before the infection broke me, anyway.”

“Lord in heaven…”

The beast nodded. “I still hear them, you know. They’re quieter now, but I still hear the voices. Still have those insane thoughts. Still feel those...urges.”

Jacob noticed that those words had caused Albert to take a step back, eying him fearfully. He held a hand out and shook his head. “T-there’s nothing to worry about! They’re just...little thoughts now. It’s easy to suppress.”

“I-I just…”

“If I was a threat, would the doctors have let me go?”

The soldier shrugged. “I guess not…”

“Albert, look. I know it’s...hard to believe, but…”

“...you’re still you,” the soldier finished.

The way the lizard winced was quite extreme. “W-well...not exactly.”

Albert’s stomach churned, dread settling over him again. “B-but I thought you…”

Jacob shook his head. “I told you, they’re still there. Faint, but there...and the only reason I haven’t become...feral yet…”

The reptilian dug into a pouch on his belt, pulling out an orange, transparent bottle with a white cap.

“...are these.”

Jacob raised a brow. “Pills?”

“Meds, yeah. They’re used to help people with schizophrenia.”

Albert was more confused than scared now, and Jacob could tell. The lizard shrugged, the pills inside the bottle loudly shaking as he did so. “Docs figured since this infection causes so many of the same symptoms, they might as well try it...and it seems like it’s actually working.”

“Shit, man. You lucked out.”

“You can say that again,” the beast agreed, tucking the bottle away in his pouch again, “Still, it’s not perfect.”

“What do you mean? Seems as good as it could be.”

“I mean, it is, kinda...but still. The boys in the lab can only make these so quickly, and uhh, can only grow the ingredients so quickly. Plus...it’s not like I have a cold. I’m not just taking these and waiting for it to go away. It’s not a cure, Albert...it’s a treatment. Plus, if anyone else gets infected like this, and they can’t make enough meds for us in time...”

“...we’re in deep trouble,” Albert finished knowingly. Jacob nodded.

“That’s right.”

The soldier sighed. “Well, at least you’re okay for now. Glad you’re back.”

“Thanks, I am too. I just wish Irene…”

“I know,” Albert answered with a deep frown, “We were friends, too.”

Jacob looked down, that same pained expression from before clearly visible. Albert crossed his arms.

“Hey, if you ever need someone to talk to...I’ll be all ears, alright?”

The transformed beast’s frown slowly turned into a grin, which was rather terrifying on his serpentine visage. “Thanks. That’s...nice to hear. I’ll have to take you up on that. It’s been pretty lonely in the medical wards.”

“I can’t imagine. Sitting in a bed alone all day…”

“Yeah, it really sucked. Thanks again.”

“Don’t mention it.”

With that, the pair smiled and nodded at one another before the soldier turned and began to walk away.

There was a brief moment of hesitation before Jacob called out.

“Albert!”

The soldier quickly stopped and looked back. “Yeah?”

Jacob approached, appearing...conflicted? Albert was still getting a handle on how the former human’s face worked.

The serpent put a hand on the man’s shoulder, claws hanging over and onto his back. “Listen. I’d rather die than let anyone here get hurt.”

The soldier’s face warped into one of confusion. “Err...yeah?”

“Look. If what I said comes true...if they run out of meds...if I lose it...if I stop being me…” the lizard furrowed his nonexistent brows and gave the man serious look. “Promise me you’ll take care of it. Don’t hesitate. Alright?”

Albert swallowed hard, unwanted thoughts running through his head of his friend going berserk and tearing him in half. “Ah hell Jacob...I can’t make a promise like that.”

The reptilian appeared distressed by that response. “Albert...please…”

“I’m just saying...I don’t know if I’ll be able to.”

“But if it happens-”

“It WON’T happen,” Albert said firmly, his own expression now one of serious resolve, “You’ll make it though this, alright?”

The beast’s face softened as he stared back at his friend, hand still on his shoulder.

“...you’re a good man. Fine. If you can’t promise to put me down, and I can’t promise not to lose it...let’s both just try our best, alright?”

“Deal.”

The large creature slowly stepped back, wearing what appeared to be a smile. “Thanks, Albert. Thank you. Take care of yourself.”

“You, too.”

Tag list: @thereisnothingwrongwithbeingmad, @lady-redshield-writes, @paper-shield-and-wooden-sword, @sheralynnramsey, @tawnywrites, @writer-on-time, @oceanwriter, @zwergis-spilledink, @fluffpiggy, @elliewritesfantasy, @homesteadhorner, @laurenwastestimewriting, @elaynab-writing, @the-ichor-of-ruination, @candy687, @fierywords, @shewrites-sometimes

5 notes · View notes

jeonsolar · 6 years ago

Text

Miraculous Ladybug Catalyst Commentary

I keep telling myself I’m not gonna do this, but HERE I AM! The whole Lila thing had me talking, and I had to start writing.

So… yeah, I’m three minutes in. Usually, by now I would have written an essay about how thirsty and devilish Nathalie is. And Gaybriel. Sorry.

Where am I starting at? Marinette banging the table cuz Lila basically back-handed slapped Ladybug, and Adrien looks embarrassed for everyone.

Chloe looks like she fell in love. (3:51)

Now I start:

Spoilers

Ladybug wants to choke her, not thank her.

… The sun is setting…?

Bitch! That looks like a backdrop!

I feel ya Marinette. Lila ain't good if Hawkmoth thinks she’s good.

I. WAS. RIGHT.

HA. BOYFRIEND. HA.

Why are girls so stupid and desperate? I’m a girl. Stop tarnishing our reputation!

A girl that lies this much about the things she’s lying about isn’t good. And for now, I will fight any Lila-Apologist.

*laughing* The balloon…. *snickers* the balloon!

If she’s in such a high position to talk to the embassy, how is she so stupid to not know anything that’s going on?

Also, LET ME SEE THE REST OF THE BALLOONS!

Teachers should never start their sentences with “It’ll be hard to be as good as blank, but who’s next?”

WHO DID THE PHOTOMONTAGE OF THESE HEROES? WHEN WERE THESE PICTURES TAKEN?

The only one that looks legit is Chloe. And maybe Lady and Chat (they’ve been doing this long enough that I can %100 believe there was once a photoshoot). But Rena and Pace? No.

Do people in Paris call her Chloe Bee or Queen Bee? They know she’s Chloe.

This entire story has only been one year? … Yeah, I guess that makes sense.

I want the next shot to be Mari and Adrien’s faces as they smile like parents proud of their baby, but it’s about Paris and how they’ve changed (ALMOST) everyone for the better.

Nino has done his job. Next.

LORD! MY GOD! HOW HAVE THEY NOT BEEN FIGURED OUT YET WHEN THEY BOTH HAVE THE WORST POKER FACES?

Adrien has done his job. Too much. Next.

Alya has done her job. Next.

Girl, don’t be insecure about your cookies. You save Paris. Just flip them a finger and tell them they’d be screwed without you.

MARINETTE HAS DONE MORE THAN HER JOB. SHE NEEDS VACATION. MOTHER FUCKING NEXT. CHLOE?

Chloe has barely risen to the occasion. Chloe needs to shut up and try harder next year. Next

(Now I’m seeing what Chloe is bringing to the table) Chloe has gone back to ground zero. But I guess is ok, because Lila is back. And now it kinda feels like they’re competing on who can be a bigger pain in our asses.

I don’t know if it’s my subs but what the fuck is degustation?

Mari. Shut up. Please. I’m begging you. You are sinking quickly!

Guys, I’m only six minutes in and I’m panicking. What has this show done to me?

Oh, Mari.

Bitch. This takes time. Like…. A week. Not a day.

They have done no progress in what I can assume is 4 to 8 hours. (4 if its lunch, 8 if it’s after school) Maybe … they’re not as good as they appear.

They have a poster of their daughter. I’m happy again.

There’s no one in the store. And zero progress on that cake.

MOMMA THIS IS NOT THE TIME FOR DUMBLEDORE CRYPTIC BULLSHIT.

What a diet. There’s no residue on that plate. And I’m daring there was near-to-nothing to begin with.

Are they just staring off into the distance?

Is this fanart? This is fanart.

“And what you see right here is an awkward Ladybug. Don’t get too close, you might scare it and it flies away.”

Gaybriel smiling? Stop! Burn it with fire!

Damn Gaybriel. Damn.

… WAIT THERE’S A LADYBUG MOVIE?

THE MOVIE WAS MADE ALREADY?

LILA NEEDS TO CHILL HER CUNT! (Yes I said it. Lila is the definition of petty. Go. Look in the dictionary. You’ll find her face there.)

The music is different.

I … I just can’t.. understand why now… she gets to be there with the butterflies? I just imagine there are some butterflies going all like “Yo, bitch! You in my spot!”

Where does his cane go when he’s making the akumas? Nathalie’s not there all the time to hold it…

God… Lila is easier than the multiplication table for zero.

… Couldn’t reprise the outfit? Same lame one? Ok.

There’s no one on the streets…

So many people must be happy. So many fanfics…. Well, not that many. I’ve checked. But all of those who were asking. Now we know. The anti-bug outfit looks dumb on Ladybug. Now stop using that one.

Let's play the game, “What is real?” Is this Chat Noir real? If so where’s the real Ladybug?

Is this chat? If so why is he there when Lady is not? I believe this is all fake.

I don’t… think … this is how .. it would work on humans? Also, what is Lila gonna do when Chat Noir comes out later with Ladybug all like “… You killed me? But I’m still here? Guess you didn’t think this plan through.”

Yo…. Murder just happened in front of all of Paris. This is a kids show. . . Ok.

Did he just abandon her on top of the Eiffel tower?

The subs are great! (Ms. Ladybug I don’t feel so good.)

I just… I can’t.

Nathalie. … No.

We all rooted for you. We all did.

HE’S NOT GONNA FUCK YOU IF HE SUCCEEDS!

If he could do that… why … wait? Why.

YOU LOOK WORSE!

So MANY fanfics are coming true. SO MANY!

It is lunch.

… tikki has a tiny chef’s hat… I repeat TIKKI HAS A TINY CHEF’S HAT!

Except Ladybug who just shat all over the party.

IS NOT ABOUT YOU ADRIEN, IS ABOUT EVERYONE.

ALSO, HOW DID THESE TWO AVOID THE WRECKAGE THAT MUST BE PARIS RIGHT NOW?

ONE OF THEM WALKED!

Sigh.

News: Chat Noir is dead!

Adrien: I am?!

News: And Ladybug works for Papillion now.

Marinette: I do?!

Everyone else: ???????

Now they’re all red?

Adrien and Marinette: Fuck. No vacation. Not even on my special. NOTHING.

If anything, they all just look like Ladybug followers.

Damn Adrien. Damn.

Just.. *replay* This is the shit I came for. This. *replays* Yes. Always protect the girl who flings you across Paris and just technically killed you.

Damn, Chloe must be feeling good.

Miraculous Ladybug: REMIX!

NINO. NO!

Nino… I love you so much! XD

Nino: With the power of love I defeat you!

Ah. Alya’s sisters have redeemed themselves.

Adrien: NOT AGAIN!

Damn, Gaybriel. Damn.

This episode is good.

The subs: This episode is the episode where HawkMoth gets smart.

I hear ya. I don’t like it, but I hear ya.

PLAGG. MY BEAUTIFUL KITTEN. I LOVE YOU!

Yeah! You are a good kitten, Plagg! Good kitty!

Thank god!

Now do that… 100 more times.

Really? That’s hard to believe? The two kids who have foiled your plans a gazillion times?

AND WHY DIDN’T YOU WARN THEM?

*whispers* please tell me Adrien shows up looking for help too, please tell me Adrien shows up looking for help too, please tell me Adrien shows up looking for help too, please tell me Adrien shows up looking for help too, please tell me Adrien sho~

AVENGERS. ASSEMBLE!

TEEN TITANS. GO!

WHATEVER THEY SAY IN POWER RANGERS!

…

IN THE NAME OF THE MOON I WILL PUNISH YOU!

… Nah. Should’ve stopped at power rangers.

Mari: One? Bitch, did you see what’s going on out there? Undress!

Tikki knows what’s up!

What kind of leader are you? Rise up!

Oh, that’s what she meant by not all.

MUSIC. YEAH. SEASON FINALE. YEA- no.

I’m gonna have to wait for the fight aren’t I?... Sigh.

*gasps, whispers* Are Alya and Nino gonna find out?

I mean we all know about Chloe, so that was an easy one for Adrien.

Damn Alya. Damn.

She just cockblocked them. I LOVE THIS EPISODE!

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

We all knew she knew. We all knew he didn’t know.

All I gotta say is:

Dreams do come true.

I have no new commentary because I’ve been replaying this scene over and over again.

Trixx: Your identity is supposed to be a secret.

Alya: Shut up and transform me, Trixxie.

Do we have to see all transfomations?

Nino: You’re not surprised about me?

Alya: Who was? You were just as obvious as Chloe.

Nino: Huh. . .

Ladybug being a third wheel over here.

Honestly, this is all we want for Ladybug and Chat Noir. This. And if we’re getting it from RenaPace that means we’re not getting it from LadyNoir… So… ready the tissues.

THEY HAVE A HANDSHAKE? THEY WERE TOGETHER FOR LIKE TEN MINUTES!

There’s so much new music.

Oh, Chloe… Nah, take me back to Ladybug being the third wheel.

*gasp* Damn, Adrien’s taking no shit from anyone.

Sometimes I wonder how can they not figure it out, and then Adrien does shit like this. Is almost like they’re two different people.

He just threw it at her!

♫If you wish upon a star, your dreams will come true♫

Ok, so let me get this right:

Chloe: Knows who she is. (Yup. That’s all she knows.)

Adrien: Knows who Queen Bee is. (But everyone knows. Poor boy)

Nino: Knows who Rena and Queen Bee is. (One of them before this episode, and not his gf)

Alya: Knows who Queen Bee and Carapace is. (Knew all before this episode)

Marinette: Knows everyone but Chat Noir. (So close to having the full set.)

So… Chloe knows nothing, Adrien knows little, Nilya knows half, and Marinette is short of Chat Noir.

HE’S… OUT????!!!!

WHATTTTTT?????????????????

Nah. I just remembered. Volpina.

…. Wait….

Oh, it’s only ten per person. I mean, it’s not like some of these weren’t so hard that they needed outside help…

Also, shouldn’t Papillion be exclusive to LadyNoir? Is them who Papillion keeps trying to fuck up.

I stopped at 22:48 and all I can think is

Chat Noir: One day that’ll be me and Ladybug.

But also.. is no one gonna ask why they are acting like they know each other even though they ‘just met’?

Ok. I was told to thank @tetra-paec for the English subs, so here are my thanks.

And here’s the link to the video with they’re subs. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ep4qPlU8waI&feature=youtu.be

36 notes · View notes

hellyeahnerdout · 6 years ago

Text

Here’s my Truth or Dare fic!

It was the Friday night after finals week and everyone had decided to let their hair down and have a bit of a celebration party. Mina had somehow convinced Iida to let her supply the drinks, the majority of them being alcoholic of course; and Jiro had set up an awesome sound system in the common room and was currently blasting loud dance music. Everyone in class 1A was already a few drinks in and having a blast.

Uraraka flopped down on the couch a drink in her hand and a smile on her face as she surveyed the lively scene. She couldn’t believe that they were all so close to finishing school. Her smile turned bitter sweet at the thought that in a short time they would all be moving on, either to colleges or getting signed to pro hero agencies.

“Why the long face Ochaco-chan?” Came the singsong voice of Yiyun as she sat down next to Uraraka, a drink in both hands and a bubbly smile on her face. Di Yiyun was a foreign exchange student who had transferred in to UA half way through their first year when her father had become stationed at a small army base in Japan. A shock to the whole school when it had first happened, Di quickly made it known how she had achieved the spot. Even though she was a petite delicate young girl with a truth telling quirk that made her seem the furthest thing from a top pro hero, she had proved everyone wrong. She was deceptively quick and agile from years of acrobatics and gymnastics classes, and from a young age her father had drilled combat training into her, showing her how to use her opponent's strength and size against them. And through her quirk was more suited to gathering intel and helping the police with interrogations, she was quick witted and often thought outside the box which led her to start using it as a way to distract and disorient whoever she fought against. A small touch was all it took and her opposition was forced to answer any direct question she or anyone else asked them for a set amount of time. And she was not above using crass low blow questions to distract and embarrassed her foes. That was something no one ever expected from the normally sweet bubbly little curly haired blonde. All of this combined made her a formidable hero with many sidekick apprenticeship offers already rolling in from high ranking pro hero’s.

“Oh I’m just thinking about how were all going to be graduating soon Yui. It just got me a little sentimental is all.” Ochaco told her friend.

“Oh no! Ochaco-chan, don’t think of it that way! This is a happy thing, a new beginning. Plus its not like we’ll never see each other again. I’ll always be just a quick phone call away, and I’m sure more than a few of us will be working at the same agencies.” She told her with a big tipsy smile before leaning in and half whispering with a slight blush, “Guess what I heard? You, Izuku-kun, and Bakuchan are all being scouted by the same agencies. Aaaaaand, Shoto-kun and I are gonna get offers from a few of the same agencies, including his father's!”

Uraraka laughed at that and asked, “And how did you come by this information?”

“I have my ways.” Yui told her wiggling her eyebrows for emphasis.

The two of them sat together and talked for a while as the party began to wind down, and the majority of their classmates went off to find their beds. The only ones left had all gathered around the common room couches quietly conversing and siping their drinks. The musics had been dimmed to a low background noise and the mood had shifted to something almost somber. Then out of nowhere, Di who had been lounging across Ochaco and Tsu’s laps, quietly but adimantly talking to the green girl, suddenly shot up and proclaimed, “Oh oh oh! Guys we should play this old kids game I used to pay when I was in America! Truth or dare! It’s so much fun.”

“We have that game here too airhead” Bakugou told her gruffly.

“Oh good! Then I won't have to explain it to you Bakuchan.” Yiyun said with a smile. “Come on guys, it will be super fun, pluuuus I can make it so no one can cheat!” She told them waving her finger in the air.

The group let out sounds of agreement and arranged themselves in an oddly shaped circle. The games members consisted of; Uraraka, Midoriya, Asui, Todoroki, Bakugou, Kirishima, Ashido, Di, Iida, Jiro, and Kaminari. Yui made her way around the gathering touching everyone gently on the nose with an accompanying “boop” noise, touching herself last as she sat back down between Tsu and Ochaco.

“I can keep my quirk up for about an hour and a half with this many people, so who wants to go first?” She asked the group.

Denki’s hand shot into the air and he said, “Oh I will.”

“Hold on, I think we should lay down some ground rules before we begin.” Iida spoke up. “First, no dares that force people to have sex or do anything too demeaning. Second, there should be a penalty if someone chooses not to do a dare; I suggest kissing someone the person who gave you the dare tells you to. And third, nothing we say or do here leaves this circle of trust.”

Everyone spoke up in agreement to the rules and the game began.

Denki looked around the group for his first victim, eyes eventually locking on Mina. With a wicked smile on his face he asked her, “Mina, truth or dare?”

“Man you’re gonna make me do something really stupid if I choose dare, aren’t you. So you know what better make it truth.” She said.

“Okay… If I kissed you would you kiss me back?” He asked after a moment of contemplation.

“Yes!” Mina exclaimed instantaneously, eyes widening as her hand shot up to cover her mouth. “Oh shit Di, that quirk of yours works quick.” She complained her cheeks turning pinker than the rest of her face. Yiyun gave her a little shrug and a smirk as if to say “what did you expect”.

Kaminari had a huge grin on his face as he made kissy noise toward Mina. “You like me don’t y-” he was about to ask her before Jiro smacked him on top of his head.

“New rule only one question per person.” She stated.

“I second that!” Mina said. Another round of agreement from the group followed. “Okay, my turn now. Hmmmm, Kirishima, truth or dare?”

“Dare of course! It’s the only manly answer.”

“I dare you to sit in Bakugou’s lap for the next five turns.” She said with a snicker.

“Put your ass on me and I’ll blow you sky high shitty hair!” Bakugou told him threateningly.

“If you don’t do it I vote he has to kiss Bakuchan then!” Yui called out with a laugh. Mina nodded in agreement to that. Everyone burst into giggles as Katsuki and Eijiro turned beet red.

“Fuck it fine, just don’t move around too much idiot.” Bakugou grumbled. Kiri quietly climbed into his lap still blushing furiously. “Don’t get any ideas.” He whispered into Kirishima’s ear. This made Eijiro blush even more again.

“Oi, are you just gonna sit there flustered or are we gonna continue this game?” Jiro asked.

“Both.” Kiri blurted out, flushing an even deeper red. “Shit! Ummm, quick Di, truth or dare?”

“Truth!” She said with a wide smile.

“Um, do you have a crush on anyone?”

“Man you should have asked her who instead of if. Ribbit.” Tsu told Kiri.

“Yes I do.” She said with a little blush. “Iida, truth or dare?”

“Dare.” He said without hesitation. “I've been on the receiving end of your questions before, and it is not something I would like to repeat.”

Yui laughed at that. “Awww, Tenya-kun, our match at the school festival was fun though. But fine, I dare you to run a lap around the outside of the campus buildings in just your underwear, without using your quirk.” Gasps and laughter filled the room at her suggestion.

Iida straightened up a slight flush coming to his cheeks before he asked a series of questions. “Do I get to still wear my glasses? Can I hide if someone comes along? Will everyone be watching me? And who must I kiss if I refuse?”

“Yes, no, yes, and I think you should kiss Izuku-kun!”

“What why me?” Midoriya asked in alarm.

“Cause I know Iida won’t kiss you, and I think it would be really funny to watch him do my dare.” She stated frankly.

“Yiyun-chan is correct. I can not bring myself to kiss you Midoriya.” Iida said as he stood up and began to remove his shirt. With a sigh he removed his shoes and socks, unbuckled his pants and let them drop quitely muttering the whole time that this was “just like being in his swimsuit”. The room erupted in cat calls and laughs as everyone got up grabbing their drinks, and followed Iida out to the front of the building.

“Nice bottoms, speedy.” Jiro teased noting the ingenium boxer briefs that he was sporting.

Iida, instead of acknowledging that statement and the following chuckles, took off running on his voyage around the buildings. The night air was rather chill, and everyone knew that it would be at least a few minutes before Iida made it back, so everyone started to huddle together for warmth. Uraraka had convinced Deku to share his sweatshirt, and was happily nestled under his chin with his arms wrapped around her. Di had dragged Todoroki over to stand next to them and waved Tsu over as well.

“Shuoto will keep us warm!” She told everyone snuggling up to his left side where he was emitting a low wave of heat. She opened her arms and let Tsu into the little circle of heat. “I wonder how much longer Iida is gonna be.” She mused out loud.

“Probably not too much longer, but I don’t mind, this is kinda nice.” Izuku said, resting his chin on top of Ochaco’s head. Yui and tsu exchanged a quick glance and smiled at each other knowingly.

Just after that Iida rounded the corner of the building next to them and everyone sent up a triumphant cheer. Shouts of encouragement and claps filled the air and he made his way back toward the group.

“How was the victory lap, Tenya-kun?” Di asked with a laugh as they all followed him back inside, still stuck to Todoroki’s side.

“Brisk, embarrassing,and uncomfortable. Now shall we continue the game.” He said as he got dressed and sat back down. The rest of the students sat back in their seats with Kirishima still in Bakugou's lap, and Di now sitting next to Todoroki on the floor instead of where she was previously. “Well then, Jiro, truth or dare?”

“Let’s keep the dares rolling, give me your worst, class prez.”

“Very well then, I dare you to let Yui-chan pick out the girliest dress that she, Uraraka, or Tsu has, and you must wear it for the rest of the evening; and on the next group outing we go on.”

“Shit, that’s evil Iida. I don’t think I could physically bring myself to do that, so tell me, who do I need to kiss?” She asked thoroughly defeated.

“Tsu.”

Both Kaminari and Mina let out gasps as Jiro simply shrugged and made her way over to Tsu. “You okay with that Tsu?” She asked before leaning down.

“Yes, we did all agree to the rules of the game.” She answered with a little blush.

Jiro hesitantly closed the distance between their lips and gave her a chaste little kiss. It lasted for no more than a second but even so Denki let out a cheer and Kiri gave a wolf whistle. Kyoka’s face flushed even more as she sat back down and quickly asked, “Uraraka, truth or dare?”

“Oh umm, I guess truth?” She said a little flustered.

“Alright, what’s the weirdest dream you’ve had about someone here?”

“We were all in class and Bakugou had spiders coming out of his eyes. And Senpai, who was a giant flying pork bun, said that the only way to stop it was to have someone kiss him, and he said I should do it. But I said I can’t. So then Deku kissed him instead, and he really kissed him, like they really went at it for a while and everyone was just watching this, and then the spiders stopped after they finished kissing. But because I refused to kiss him I got expelled and spiders started coming out of my eyes, and no one would kiss me, and it was all very weird and scary and I didn’t like it at all.” She told the group as they all sat there in stunned silence. She quickly hid her face in her hands as her cheeks grew pinker than normal.

The silence was finally broken by none other than Bakugou when he burst out laughing and said, “Man round cheeks, you really need to check your imagination. I wouldn’t let Deku’s lips near me even if I had spiders coming out of every hole in my body.”

Everybody else soon joined him, cracking up at the bizarre dream. Uraraka even found herself laughing along too. Finally they all calmed down and she was able to ask, “Bakugou, truth or dare?”

“Eh, give me whatever lame ass dare you can think of.” He told her.

“Okay, I dare you to kiss Kirishima whenever someone says the word dare for the rest of the game.” She stated smugly.

“Why do we always get grouped together for this.” Kiri lightly complained.

“Cause you're always together.” Denki told him.

“Cause you two are so cute together.” Kyoka added.

“Cause you’re the only one Bakuchan likes enough to allow it.” Yui continued.

“Cause you li-” Mina started but was cut off by a very red and flustered Kiri.

“Okay! I get it! Enough!” he choked out.

“Who would I have to kiss?” Katsuki asked begrudgingly with a small blush.

“Deku, of course.” Ochaco stated with and evil grin.

“Fuck fine, looks like I’m kissing shitty hair. Fuck, half and half, truth or dare?” He asked Todoroki before giving Kiri and quick little peck on the lips. Both of them turned bright red. Neither of them had even realized that Kiri’s dare was over, too preoccupied with this new situation.

A small malicious smirk crossed Shuoto’s lips as he began to muse aloud, “Hmmm, should I pick truth or dare. If I pick dare, you’ll probably give me something stupid to do for a dare, but I really think I want to pick dare, dares are more fun. I really like dares. I think I might go with dare.”

Bakugou’s anger grew in him with each word, and by the seventh kiss you could practically see steam rising from him. “You think your really funny don’t you bastard. Fine you want a good fucking dare,” kiss “I’ll give you a good fucking dare!” kiss “Go swap clothes with airhead there, and I mean swap everything underwear and jewelry and all!” He demanded.

Todoroki gave an indifferent shrug and took a stunned Di by the hand and lead her to the bathrooms. They came back to the group minutes later, Di with a bright pink coloring to her cheeks, desperately trying to hold up Todoroki’s way too big jeans. She had rolled up the bottom of Shuoto’s pants to keep from tripping and his shirt and sweater engulfed her small frame, one side falling off her shoulder and the ends of the sleeves flapping uselessly beyond the reach of her hands. She had too much clothing and didn’t know what to do with it; Todoroki had the exact opposite problem. Yui’s white off the shoulder sweater was certainly being stretched to its limit, the sleeves only came midway down his forearms, and the edge barely made it to the top of his naval. The thigh high stockings came to rest tightly just below his knees. Her short pink ruffled skirt managed to cover everything necessary but it was no way decent. And to top it off he was now adorned with a little floral headband and pink ribbon collar necklace. The group went wild with laughter at the sight.

Yui quickly grabbed Todoroki’s arm as he made to sit back down on the floor in his cross legged position like before. Her face flushed brightly as she whispered, “If you’re gonna sit the same way as before can I be in front of you so no one else sees my panties?”

“Oh yeah, sure. Sorry, I didn’t even think about that.” He responded a small blush coloring his cheeks.

“Thanks.” She told him sitting down first then letting him settle in behind her.

“Man, Todoroki you should wear that more often.” Kirishima teased with a laugh.

“I don’t know, I mean I like it and all, but pink's just not really my color.” Shouto joked back with his deadpan sarcasm. “Asui, dare or truth. Oops sorry, said that wrong, truth or dare?” He asked.

There was two quick kissing noises accompanied by low grumbling from Bakugou, and the sound of snickering from Mina and Kyoka. Tsu ignored them and thought for a moment before choosing dare.

“I dare you to camouflage yourself, sneak into 1B’s dorms, and steal a pair of Monomo’s boxers, and if you can’t complete the dare you have to kiss Iida.”

“How do I know which room is his?”

“Oh! I know which one! Third floor first room.” Di told her excitedly. “I may or may not have gotten the info from Pony-chan so I could do a little prank on him last year. Us transfer students gotta stick together, and she may have wanted a little vengeance from all the weird things he taught her to say.” She explained at everyone’s look of confusion.

“Okay, no problem then, ribbit.” Tsu said getting up and making her way towards the door.

While they waited for Tsu to return, Mina topped off everyone’s drinks. After Denki slyly asked her about it, Yui told them all about what the prank had been and how she pulled it off. Then Iida began to scold her on proper school edicate and how she shouldn’t take class rivalries so far, causing her to go into a fit of giggles. But before he could finish is lecture a triumphant Tsu returned, a pair of hot pink boxer shorts in her hand, her face entirely red.

“What happened, did you get caught?” Uraraka asked worried.

“No, ribbit. He wasn’t sleeping alone, and I don’t want to talk about it.” She stated, tossing the underwear onto the coffee table before sitting down. “Midoriya-chan, truth or dare?”

“Oh, um, dare I guess.” He told her before really thinking about it.

“Good, then I dare you to call All Might sensei and leave him a detailed voicemail about how you just lost your virginity.”

Midoriya let out a shocked noise and couldn’t help the intense blush that came over him. “Oh my god Asui! What kinda dare is that?” He asked all flustered.

“A pretty fucking good one! Finally, greenie over here’s really stepping it up.” Bakugou said barking out a laugh after once again kissing Kirishima a few times.

“You know I can’t do that, right Tsu? Wh-who do I have to... kiss?” Deku asked reluctantly.

Tsu pretended to think it over for a moment, even though she already knew what she wanted to do. “Ribbit. I guess you could kiss Ochaco-chan instead.” She told him with a little smile.

A nervous peal of laughter was ripped from Uraraka throat and her eyes widened. “What?!” She asked dumbly. She had to have heard wrong. Her sweet friend Tsu wouldn’t have set her up like that. Sure all the girls occasionally gossiped about which boy they had a crush on, but she never expected to have that information used against her so blatantly. Tsu just sent her a little knowing smile, not even trying to play innocent. Ochaco looked around the group for help, to no avail. Both Mina and Jiro were snickering quietly and Yui and a huge unashamed smile on her face that just screamed this was all planned out. It wasn't like she wasn’t super excited about this, she had been pining after Izuku for years. Her crush secretly tucked away whenever the two would hang out together. But this, actually being able to kiss him, even if it was just a dare was almost too much for her. Without the added courage of her drinks she was sure she would have fled the room by now. unable to face the reality of something she had fantasised about countless times.

While Uraraka was having her internal dilemma, it was clear to the group that Midoriya was doing the same exact thing. He had that dark aura of overthinking that he constantly got when planning or worrying over something. He began quietly muttering to himself, “Crap, what am I supposed to do I cant call All Might and tell him something so embarrassing, especially when it’s not true, and i'm not sure I can kiss Uraraka in front of so many people, and what if she doesn't want to kiss me, and what if I kiss her weird, what if she doesn't like it and never wants to kiss me again, what if she tells everyone I kiss weird and then no one will ever kiss me again, how can I become the number one hero if everyone knows i’m a bad kisser…”

Yui leaned over from her spot in Shouto’s lap and gently poked Midoriya on the side of the head. “Hey Izuku, stop worrying and just kiss the girl, it’ll be fine.” she told him gently as he finally snapped out of his trance.

A look of determination came over his face as he nodded and stiffly got up from his seat and walked over to Ochaco. He leaned down and hesitantly put a hand on her shoulder snapping her out of her thoughts and she looked up at him with wide eyes. “I- Is it okay if I kiss you?” he asked.

She gave him a very small almost indiscernible nod not trusting her voice in the moment.

The room was silent all eyes on the two of them as Midoriya slowly closed the distance between their lips. He had ment it to be a quick little kiss like what Jiro had done to Tsu, but all his thoughts and plans when out the window the moment his lips met hers. Ochaco seemed to melt into him, her hands instinctively reaching up to grasp the front of his hoodie pulling him closer as a small gasp parted her lips against his ever so slightly. His body reacted to her automatically, one hand coming up ro cradle her face the other moving from her shoulder to the base of her neck angling her head for better access as he deepened the kiss. His tongue swept across her bottom lip gently asking to be let in, and she happily accepted, determined to explore every inch of her mouth, searing the feel and taste into his memory. Uraraka made a small noise of pleasure and he just about lost himself, forgetting about everything around him.

Then all too abruptly reality came crashing back in as mina called out “Woo! Get it girl!”

The two of them immediately broke apart, eyes wide, flushed from head to toe, and sporting big happy yet embarrassed smiles. It was adorable to say the least.

“Oi Deku! You done sucking face with round cheeks over there?” Bakugou asked with a snicker.

“No.” he blurted out and flushed again before saying “Yes! Yes I can be done.” He sat down next to Denki on the sofa, still rather stunned, and snuck a quick glance at Ochaco who seemed to be in the same state.

“Well then let’s get on with it nerd. Ask short circuit over there the question, he’s the last one left.” Katsuki urged.

Midoriya nodded his head absentmindedly, and asked “Kaminari, truth or dare?”

“I think we’ve had enough dares for a while.” he said giving a suggestive look at Izuku and Uraraka. “I’ll go with truth!”

“Laaame.” Ashido teased.

“Dude, you picked truth too.” he retorted.

Izuku thought for a moment for a question, but all he could come up with was one, his brain really wasn’t functioning properly right now; if it had been he would have asked some interesting questions about Denki’s quirk and how it worked. But what came out was, “Sorry Kaminari, this is the only question I can think of, are you a virgin?”

Denki flushed and tried to cover his mouth before anything could slip out, but Di’s quirk was too quick and a strangled “Yes.” fell through his lips. He slumped forward and muttered, “That as a low blow Midoriya my man.”

Both Jiro and Bakugou started to laugh, and Katsuki barked out, “You’re so full of shit! Always bragging about getting ass! Ha!”

“Alright alright, let's just forget about this and move along. Jiro, truth or dare?” Denki asked, quick to cover up his embarrassment.

“Give me a dare, Mr. innocence, i'm not revealing anything about myself tonight.” she told him with a smirk.

“Okay, go around the room and lick everyone.”

“Man, that’s gross, does it matter where I lick them?”

“Dealers choice.”

“Whatever then.” she started and before he knew what had happened she lent over to her left and licked Bakugou on the cheek.

“What the fuck!” he shouted while Kiri laughed in his lap.

Kyoka shrugged and said, “Dares a dare.”

He scowled at her as he gave Eijiro two quick kisses, still forced to complete his previous dare.

She quickly moved around the group liking everyone in various spots. Kirishima, Iida, Tsu, and Shouto all received little licks to the hand; Uraraka, and Midoriya also got licks to the cheek; Mina got a very showy and intimate lick to the side of her neck, causing Kiri and Kami to wolf whistle and Mina to laugh; Yui got a lick to the tip of her nose and she started to giggle. She saved Kaminari for last, she took his hand like she was about to lick it normally but instead lick his index finger in the most sensual way she could, just to tease him, know he would get super flustered. She left him red faced and sputter as the group laughed, and took her seat again before turning to Bakugou and asking, “Truth or dare?”

“Eh, i'm tired of having to do shitty dares, give me a truth.” he said gruffly.

“Alright, do you like kissing Kirishima, and why?”

“Yeah, he’s got soft lips and he really hot.” Katsuki said to everyone's surprise as his cheeks and ears turned red. “Oh fuck you that was two questions!” he yelled at her.

“It was technically one, I just asked for an explanation behind your answer.” she told him smuggly.

“I- Just- Fuck! Oh whatever, lets just keep playing.” he said quietly. “Ashido, truth or dare?” Bakugou asked and immediately took Kiri’s face in his own hands and pulled him roughly to meet his lips in a searing kiss. “No point in denying it anymore.” he muttered to a shocked Eijiro.

Mina smiled at them and said, “I guess i’ll choose dare.”

This time Kiri wasted no time in pulling Katsuki's face to his and kissing him.

“I think you’ve all inadvertently created a monster.” Todoroki muttered.

Bakugou flipped him off lips still attached to Kirishima’s. Then he said, “Pinky, since this games started to loose its steam, why don’t you do a little stip tease. Or you could kiss sparky over there, I know he’s dying for it.”

“Well someone's in a nice mood now.” she said with a laugh, and got up to walk over to Kaminari. She sat down on his lap, threw her arms around his neck and gave him a big showy kiss on the lips. She quickly hopped off him with a wink and retreated to her own seat. “Ochaco, truth or dare?”

Uraraka had only been vaguely paying attention to the game since her kiss with Deku. She shook her head slightly to snap out of her thoughts and said, “Oh, um dare?”

A wicked smile passed over Mina’s face. “I dare you to do a body shot off of Midoriya!” she exclaimed happily.

“I can do that. If you explain how its done.” Ochaco said with a smile, “If that’s okay with you Deku?”

“Yeah that’s fine.” he said a little too quick.

“Okay! Everyone, grab your drinks off the coffee table.” Mina commanded, and everyone followed. She pushed the discarded and forgotten pair of pink underwear off the table with her foot then said, “Izuku lay down on your back and lift up your shirt!”

He did as he was told with a small blush. Mina ran off to the kitchen to grab what she needed for the dare, and came back a moment later with a bottle of tequila, salt shaker, and a lime wedge. “Okay, so what you do is drink the shot out of Midoriya’s bellybutton, lick the salt off his stomach then take a bite of the lime that he will be holding with his mouth.” Mina explained step by step as she put everything into place.

“That’s what a body shot is? I thought I was going to have to take drink from a shot glass off of him.” Uraraka said a bit surprised.

“That’s the lame way of doing it, this ways more fun.” she explained. “Oh and you’ll want to do it was together as quick as you can.”

Ochaco took a deep breath and steeled herself for the task ahead. She quickly leaned down, not letting herself think about what exactly she was doing and just went for it. Her mouth wrapped around his navle and she slurped up the small amount of alcohol in there immediately moving to run her tongue along the ling of salt that traveled up his well defined abs, the finally moved up to his mouth where she took the lime from his and bit into it. She just a quikly stood up after completing her task, a blush coating her cheeks, and took the lime from her mouth.

Midoriya got up, once again blushing as well, wiped off his stomach, and sat back down next to Denki.

“Well, that was something.” Ochaco said quietly and mostly to herself with a smile as she sat back down as well. “Um, Kirishima, truth or dare?”

“Give me a truth, I don’t feel like moving.” he told her with a big toothy smile.

“Would you want to date Bakugou?” she asked bluntly.

“Hell yeah I would, especially if he keeps kissing me like he has been.” he told everyone without a hint of embarrassment or hesitation.

“Well fuck it, I guess that settles it shitty hair, you’re mine.” Bakugou replied.

“What? Really?”

“Yeah, why not.”

Kirishima broke out into an even bigger smile, practically bouncing in Katsuki’s lap.

“Dare!” Yui shouted at them with a little laugh.

Bakugou gave Kiri the most amazing smirk that was just full of promises before claiming his lips.

“Dude, release your boyfriend and lets get back to the game, then you can continue sucking each others faces.” Denki complained lightheartedly.

Bakugou flipped him off, and Eijiro gave him the ‘in a minute’ finger.

“You were right, we’ve created a monster.” Di told Todoroki with a laugh.

“This right here,” he said gesturing vaguely to the two young men making out, “is all your handiwork.” he retorted.

“Were kissing not deaf.” Bakugou barked at them when he finally pulled back.

Kiri laughed and said, “Hey Tsu, truth or dare?” and gave Katsuki a kiss on the cheek.

“Truth. Ribbit.”

“Who was Monoma sleeping with? I’m really curious.”

“I think it was Kuroiro-san, but i’m not sure, all I saw was white hair, and thats all im gonna say.” she told the group.

“No!” “No freaking way!” “That's ridiculous!” “I thought he had a thing for Kendo!”, Kirishima, Ashido, Kaminari and Di all spoke at once, practically jumping at Tsu for this bit of gossip.

“I said, I’m not saying anything else.” she told them all again. “Now, ribbit, Iida, truth or dare?”

“Im feeling rather adventurous tonight, lets go with dare again.” he told her with bravado.

Tsu thought for a minute, a small blush coming to her face. She looked at Yui for a moment asking a silent question that she knew the other girl would understand. Yiyun got the message and gave her an enthusiastic nod and semi discrete thumbs up. Asui took in a big deep breath and slowly let it out before she turned to Iida and said, “I dare you to kiss me.”

Iida sputtered, turned bright red, and became very stiff. “Asui-san… I-I didn’t know… are you certain you want your dare to be that… I certainly wasn't prepared for that…” he said stumbling over his words.

“Please, call me Tsu-chan, ribbit. You know I prefer that, and yes, that's my dare for you. I’ve been trying to work up my courage to confess to you for a while now class rep.” she told him shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and looking up at him.

“Well, I suppose it is only proper that you call me Tenya then.” he told her still flushed.

A big smile spread across her face. “Okay, I dare you to kiss me, Tenya.”

“Very well… Tsu-chan.” Iida said before slowly leaning down and giving her a gentle kiss on the lips. He pulled back just as slowly a soft surprised smile on his face. Yui let out a happy squeal, clasped her hands together, and started bouncing in her seat from excitement for her friends. Shouto had to placed a hand on top of her head to keep her from moving so much.

Iida cleared his throat and said, “Kaminari, truth or dare?”

“I’m not answering anymore truths tonight, so give me your worst Prez.” he said.

Iida sat there for a minute trying to think to no avail before saying, “I apologise, i’m having a bit of difficulty coming up with a dare.”

“Oh don’t worry! I’ve gotcha covered.” Mina told him as she bounced up and went over to whisper in his ear.

“Oh! Well that is a very interesting dare. Thank you Ashido. Alright, Kaminari, I dare you to strip down to your underwear and go profess your love to Sero.”

“Please tell me I can kiss Mina as my punishment instead.” Denki begged.

“I’m afraid not. If you don't do your dare you'll have to kiss Bakugou.”

Kami groaned and looked to his friend with pleading eyes.

“Don’t even think about it pikachu.” Katsuki said.

“Sorry, bro. Not happening.” Eijiro told him.

“Awww what is this, pick on Denki night?” he complained.

“Suck it up, strip down, and go tell Hanta how much you love him already.” Jiro teased him with a laugh.

Kami stood up and started to grumble under his breath as he quickly stripped down to his heart covered boxers. “Well you guys coming or not?” he demanded as he began to walk to the dorms. Everyone got up and began to follow him to the fifth floor. He trudged down the hall and banged on Sato’s door. “Oi, Hanta, wake up, its important.” he called out.

There was the muffled sound of a moan and shuffling around in the room before the door was pulled open and a half asleep Sero peaked his head out rubbing his eyes.

“Denki, what the hell man, it’s like two am. What’s going on? And where are your clothes?” Sero asked with a yawn.

“Were playing truth or dare, and my clothes are in the living room. Now shut up, I gotta tell you something.” he said before falling silent.

“Dude, go on.” He prompted rubbing the back of his head, desperate to go back to bed.

“I’m in love with you. Desperately, wildly, head over heels in love with you man. I don't think I could live without you in my life. You’re my soulmate. You’re the first thing I think about in the morning and the last thing I think about at night. I just love you so much. I never want to be without you. I love you, I love you, I love you.” Kami proclaimed overly dramatically.

Sero laughed and said, “Dude, you’re wild, im going back to bed.” and turned around and shut the door.

“Good enough for you guys?” he asked with a raised eyebrow to the group huddled down the hall.

“That was beautiful, and I’m gonna cherish this video for a long time.” Mina told him with a wicked smile.

“No, you didn’t. Tell me you didn’t record that.” He begged.

“Recorded, saved, and uploaded onto my backup device.” she said still smiling.

“You delete that right now Ashido!” he demanded stepping toward her to do it himself if necessary.

“Nope!” she said merrily and took off running back down to the common room, Denki right behind her.

Everyone else took their time getting back down stairs, and thankfully the two had settled down by the time they got there. Kami had even managed to get redressed. Everyone settled back down into their seats, and focused on Denki to continue the game.

“Hey Di, truth or dare?”

“Oh lets do dare this time.” she said excitedly with a big smile.

Kirishima thought for a moment then got a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “I dare you to take back your underwear from Todoroki.”

Her smile faltered for a second before she asked, “Do I physically have to take them from him, or can he just give them back to me?”

“Oh my darling Di, where would be the fun in that, you have to take them.”

“Who do I have to kiss as punishment?”

“I’ll go easy on ya, you can kiss Midoriya.”

“Shit, I can’t do that.”

“Why no-”

“Don’t ask that question. It’s not my reason to tell, and I don’t want to spill someone else's secret.” She told him cutting him off before he could ask. “Can I give Todoroki his underwear back?”

“That’s up to Bakugou, seeing it was his dare that made you swap in the first place.” Kami said enjoying this all too much.

“Hell no.” Katsuki told them.

With a resinged sigh Yui stood up and grabbed Shouto by the hand. “I’m sorry about this Todoroki.” She said her face burning as she pulled him along to the bathrooms. They reemerged a minute later both faces bright pink, with Shouto holding down the front and back of the skirt.

Bakugou, Mina, and Jiro were all in hysterics over this. Katsuki even looked like he was about to tear up from laughing so hard. The rest of the group tried to restrain themselves but ended up laughing lightly as well. Todoroki really did look ridiculous.

“Well where's the proof?” Kaminari asked Yiyun.

“I don’t actually have to show you my panties do I?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes you do.” he said smugly.

“Pervert.” Yui teased him. She sighed and pulled out the light blue lace panties she had in her pocket. She held them up for everyone to see her face flushing again as she asked, “Satisfied?”

“Yep!” Denki said still all smiles.

“You’re an ass you know that.” She told him as she put the underwear back in her pocket, but there was no malice in her words.

“Hey, come on, this was my last chance to see some girls underwear tonight, I had to go for it. Plus, you saw mine, only seemed fair.” Kami said with a laugh.

“Whatever.” She said rolling her eyes at him, but her smile was back to its full force. She quickly skipped over to the kitchen and poured two shots, coming back and offering one to Shouto. “Liquid reinforcements.” she toasted as he took the glass, and they both drank it down. “Plus, who knows, with enough of them, maybe we can forget how embarrassing what I just did to you a moment ago was.” she teased him with a laugh.

“You’re gonna need another one of them before you can sit down aren't you?” she asked him quietly and sincerely. With his quick nod of affirmation she ran back over and just grabbed the bottle of clear liquid, bringing it back with her before pouring them both another shot and knocking it back. She looked up at Todoroki and gave him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, i’ll make sure you don’t flash anyone else.” she told him with a flirty wink already feeling the effects of the added alcohol in her system. They both somehow managed to sit down again without incident. Shouto pulled Yui as close to him as he possibly could without letting anything indecent touch, thankful to have her there to keep his modestly intact.

“Okay! Let's continue, my quirk’s almost at its limit, but I think I can stretch out one more round after this one. So, Shouto-kun, truth or dare?” Di asked, twisting her body halfway around so she could look at him.

“As long as I don’t have to get up, i’ll choose dare.” he told her.

Yui hummed to herself for a second, debating what to do. She really shouldn't have had that second shot on top of all the other drinks she had had that evening. Because of it, she was about to do something that would either end really badly or really really well. She hoped for the latter. Pivoting on her butt, she turned herself fully around to face Todoroki, still making sure that she was shielding everyone else from what needed to be covered. She felt her cheeks heat slightly as she smiled up at him with what almost looked to be an innocent smile.

“Don’t worry, you won't have to get up for this dare, yet.” she told him sweetly. Yui beckoned him to lean down so she could whisper the dare in his ear.

The only indication of the nature of the dare that the group got was the slight widening of Shouto’s eyes and the way his cheeks flushed just a little darker. When she was finished speaking he pulled back a skeptical look on his face. “Is that really your dare?”

“Yep, take it or leave it.” she told him with false bravado.

“I’ll do it.” he told her much quicker than she thought he would answer.

A radiant smile spread across Di’s face. She once again quickly turned around to face the group. They were all looking at the two of them with open curiosity on their faces.

“What was-” Izuku began to ask, but was quickly cut of by Yui.

“Nope! Nope nope nope. Neither Shouto or I will be answering that question. But I can tell you that I have stuck to the original rules of our game, and there was never a rule in place saying that the dare had to be announced to the group, so this is a secret dare. And if any of you guys even think about trying to ask either one of us I will shut my quirk down quicker that you can say ‘plus ultra’.” she told them all.

“Awww you’re no fun Yui.” Kami complained.

“Yeah, but you still love me.” she shot back.

“I’d love you more if you’d tell me what you just whispered in Todoroki’s ear.”

“Not gonna happen sparky.”

Shouto cleared his throat, and said, “I believe it’s my turn to ask Midoriya a question. Truth or dare?”

“I’m going with truth, I couldn't handle another dare like the one Tsu gave me earlier.” he said.

Before Shouto could say anything Di turned halfway around in his lap and beckoned him closer so she could whisper in his ear once again. Ochaco watcher her friend do this, a queasy feeling in her gut. This was bad, she knew her friend all too well, and she knew that whatever question she was telling to Todoroki was going to be either really blunt or really embarrassing and more than likely had something to do with herself. To her it really seemed like Yui had suggested this game just to play matchmaker.

Todoroki raised an eyebrow at Yui, but with her encouraging nod asked, “Midoriya, are you in love with Uraraka and do you want to have sex with her?”

Ochaco was going to die of embarrassment, she just knew it. She would drop dead any moment now and her spirit would watch the chaos unfold before her as she slowly drifted away into sweet safe oblivion. She barely had time to glare daggers at Yui and prepare for the inevitable catastrophe.

The room was filled with absolute silence for half a second, all eyes swiftly shifting from Todoroki to stare at the green haired boy in question. The heavy anticipation in the air broke as Izuku blurted out, “Yes! And god yes!”

He immediately stood up, red from head to foot, stiffly bowed, quietly apologising profusely to the group yet completely unable to acknowledge Uraraka, and practically ran out of the room and up to his dorm. It was the most painfully awkward anyone had seen Midoriya in years.

After Izuku’s form disappeared around the corner, all eyes flew to Ochaco who was staring off into the distance in a daze as if her spirit had feld her body. The girls in the room exploded into a cacophony excitement, eager to shake her from her befuddlement.

“You need to go after him!”

“Ochaco, let him know how you feel!”

“Go get him!”

“Oh my god we told you he like you back, now we officially know!”

“Snap out of it, and go to him.”

All of this clamoring barely registered with Uraraka, she was so lost in her own head. She had never thought that her feelings would be reciprocated. She had resigned herself to just be Deku’s close friend, told herself she didn't want to get in the way of his training, of his ultimate goal to be the number one hero. Told herself that he wouldn't feel the same way for her; but there it was. He had just confessed to loving her and wanting her, and she had no idea what to do with that information.

Yui signed and quickly stripped off Shouto’s sweater, placed it in his lap, and got up and made her way over to Uraraka. She knelt down in front of her best friend, took her face in her hands, and forced her to look at her before quietly but firmly saying, “Ochaco-chan, you need to go up and talk to Izuku-kun. You know how he feels, but he doesn't know how you feel, you need to tell him. This is the opening you’ve been hoping for. Yes I know it’s not quite what you expected, and I apologize for that, I really didn’t think he was gonna respond like that. Now get your tushie up and go talk to your man!”

Yui’s little pep talk was exactly what she needed. She nodded to the smaller blonde in front of her eagerly and said, “You're right I need to talk to him. I’m going to talk to him!” She gave Di a quick hug before jumping up and making her way to Midoriya’s room with a newfound determination to let him know exactly how she felt in every possible way.

Yui stood up with a satisfied smile brightening her face. “ Well my quirk is thoroughly diminished. Sorry to anyone who wanted to keep playing, but I’m done for the night. I’m pooped.” She announced to everyone before turning to Bakugou and Eijiro. “E, Bakuchan, congrats, you’re now my favorite power couple, but for the love of god please get a room.” She teased them with a laugh but a sincere smile, then turned to Iida and Tsu who were sitting just ever so slightly closer together she winked at them and said, “You two don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Di bid a simple night to both Mina and Kyoka.

She walked over to Todoroki with a devilish smile. “Come on Shouto, you’ve got a dare to fulfill.” She told him as she took his hand and pulled him to his feet. They started to quickly retreated to the dorms, but Yui stopped and and pointed a finger at Denki, “Kami you better not blow my phone up in the middle of the night, I will tell you nothing, and if you try I’ll make you tell me all your dirty dark secrets.” she threatened but patted him on the head the next second and told him to have a good night. Yiyun and Shouto then quickly disappeared upstairs.

“Man for someone who’s ‘pooped’ she sure seemed lively.” Mina said with a snicker.

2 notes · View notes

nightcoremoon · 3 years ago

Text

I love horror, I just have impossibly high standards

anyway some of my favorite is the kind that is totally normal from the start, there's nothing off kilter or weird, everything is fine. it's mundane. but then maybe something strange happens and it's less mundane, maybe it's more colorful or lively. but it's not like it's scary or anything. maybe it's a little left of center but it's still fine. life goes on as normal.

but then suddenly it's not fine.

and it recontextualizes everything up until now and you realize oh my god it wasnt mundane at all, it was just pillars of foreshadowing and you realize this is the most terrifying thing you've ever encountered.

maybe it goes on with the weird scary shit and things resolve themselves later, but that gives you time to breathe and get accustomed to the horror.

maybe it just ends. maybe it's just suddenly "surprise, shit is fucked!" and then ~fin

that would be ideal. like, in the sixth sense, you find out Bruce Willis was dead the whole time, you see him making peace with his death, and then the movie ends. except without all of the overreliance on shock horror and the visually disturbing (for the 90s) shots of the entire rest of the everything.

but if the twist happens at the halfway point and things stay absolutely horrible for a while that's also good, like coraline. started off pretty normal, got a little weird, and then suddenly boom ITS HORRIFYING OUT OF NOWHERE.

a perfect example of the last line twist would be the girl with the green ribbon on her neck. aww the boy likes the mysterious girl and they fall in love and get married, really normal the entire way. and then oh surprise HER HEAD COMES OFF. simple yet effective.

I don't mind if it starts out the gate with being seven levels of fucked. dead space 2 opens up with nicole, narratively speaking just moments after she end jumpscares you in the first game, so we're already off-put. then 60 seconds in we see isaac in a straitjacket being questioned and in the background there's flashes of being on the ishimura and nicole's ghost walks up to you and slavsquats and her eyes light up and she whispers, then SUDDEN WHITE oh cool it's ok look it's franco from dead space ignition that's cool aww he's saving Isaac oh wow it's a really creepy atmosphere OH MY GOD IS HEAD IS GETTING STABBED AND HIS FACE TURNS INTO A GODDAMN ZOMBIE HOLY SHIT THEYRE EVERYWHERE RUN BITCH RUN CHAOS LOUD MUSIC BLOOD GUTS FEAR QUICK MASH THE A BUTTON OR DIE!!! oh everything is quiet now. good job you survived, now walk down the corridor to the next intense scary part. lather rinse repeat.

I like horror when it's well executed or creative and not schlocky and relying solely on savini's gore or unnecessary carnage.

friday the 13th is like, oh wow that person just got an axe in their forehead, I sure am quaking in my boots. oh wow the tall stuntman picked up a sleeping bag and slammed it into a tree, this sure is realistic. oh the scantily clad teen girl is running slowly through the forest while cain hodder slowly walks towards her, and he somehow catches up and stabs her with the machete. wow the effects sure look like foam core and wax got cut in half and is squirting ketchup everywhere. the music is sonically engineered to force my pulse to increase and I guess this is horror? oh look someone else got murdered. oh look another murder. I'm sure glad we spent the first 45 minutes of this movie getting to know the shallow garbage characters before they all get merced. wow crispin glover sure does know how to shake his head when a prosthetic attached with fake blood is on his head. oh look a dead body with arrows in it, the scream queen is piercing my eardrums, I guess this means I should be scared too. yawn. it's so fucking boring just watching people die over and over again. at least the later installments were either hilarious or batshit crazy. punching a dude's head clean off was the funniest thing I've ever seen in a movie given the context, and JASON GOES TO SPACE is the dumbest shit in any film but that's what makes it awesome. it had a stupid fucking robot fight. yet everyone hated it, so they rebooted it and surprising literally nobody it was the same shit but with more cgi so it looked even less real (not that it did in the first place). yet this franchise made hundreds of millions of dollars in ticket sales alone. nowadays there are people who see hockey on tv and ask "why the fuck is that guy dressed up like jason voorhees".

tell me why a free swedish gold source mod with blocky graphics and muddy textures and the worst lighting engine in 20 years and some bad questionable design choices in an almost direct ripoff homage to silent hill 2 and resident evil 2, crammed with bugs and bad collision and hard crashes if you die in a specific level while holding a flare which you literally need to always have lit because that's the mechanic the entire level was built around, by a team of like 6 people (half of whom were the voice actors and navmesh modelers), is still one of the best and well-crafted pieces of horror media I've ever consumed, while trash like the fucking craven-less elm street remake gets its dick sucked by everyone else because OH WOW ITS SO SUBVERSIVE AND EDGY AND GORY WOW COOL THIS IS REAL TRUE HORROR!

of course I'm approaching this from a purely american lens. japan's horror is phenomenal. mainly because it's not built around buckets of blood and literal pig carcasses and abusing actresses and actual rape scenes (although it's funny that people are totally okay with all of the graphic murders because killing people is okay and indulging in torture porn is fine but oh, god forbid a film shows something skin-crawlingly uncomfortable for the sake of making you feel disgusted and wanting a cold shower, no, the line is drawn there, you can stab a naked girl with a power drill or drop a chainsaw on her body and that's fine but if a snowman slams her body into a wall while his carrot nose is inside her hoohah that's when it's going too far? seriously? whatever I've beaten this dead horse). but eurocanadamerica's obsession with gore porn in horror and blumhouse's shitty jumpscare factories have reduced it to just... loud noise, stabbing, loud noise, stabbing, lather rinse repeat. this is horror now I guess.

nobody takes coraline seriously as horror. nobody takes the green ribbon seriously as horror.

the monster chasing you isn't horror. it's terror. horror is when you step on a bear trap while the monster is chasing you. the monster chase without the bear trap has no impact, it's just "watch this person fear for their life and die". yeah, if I wanted to watch a snuff film I'd look outside of mainstream markets. "oh but if it's just a movie it's not real" so says the people who suicide bait cyber bully and harass teens who ship a 17 year old with a 19 year old, or two people who work with batman, all over fictional alleged pedophilia and incest. because it's all bad unless it's violence. only sex is bad but not violence.

the violence cannot stand on its own. it needs to have narrative purpose. resident evil, all of the zombies and monsters were bioweapons being manufactured by a corporation. silent hill and cry of fear, all of the monsters are just the embodiments of the protag's inner demons. dead space, the batshit crazy religious cult wants to turn everyone into the undead since that's their idea of heaven, and you have to fight them and stay alive so you can prevent the universe from getting omnomnommed by the blood moons. f.e.a.r., a little girl with some psychic powers is studied, tortured, abused, and :/ raped (at least you don't see it) and she naturally responds by lashing out at the ones who hurt her and trying to reunite with her baby, who is... you! (spoilers).

what is the plot of friday the 13th? dumbass kids get drunk and have sex and let a little kid go missing and his mom has a psychotic break and starts killing them all, then they kill her and the kid kills more people and then he kills more people and then he dies and comes back and kills more people and then he dies so someone else starts killing people and then jason comes back again and kills more people again and he gets arrested and they try to execute him but he won't die so they cryogenically freeze him until he kills people in the future, and in a different timeline he kills people and fights freddy krueger. it's pointless. popcorn. drivel. there is no narrative purpose, it's just murder for murder's sake. and that's scary???

like I said. impossibly high standards.

I love horror. but holy shit is a lot of horror bad.

0 notes

saintbalor-blog · 7 years ago

Text

“ THE BAD BOY ALWAYS GETS THE GIRL ! “

REQUEST: hey, love your blog! I have a request: so Ben has a crush on te reader (kinda like his crush on Bev) but reader is Patrick’s girlfriend, but he’s new so he doesn’t know. Ok so Patrick catches Ben “flirting” with her and he gets pissed and shows him she’s his? Reader finds it funny because Ben is tiny and adorable, the exact opposite from her bf. i’d really like that, thanks!!!

AUTHORS NOTE: i was listening to ‘la ocasíon’ while reading this and it reminded me of how hot owen is so there’s that + i love ben sm so this genuinely hurt to write yikes ??

“Alright, on the count of three, I’m gonna shove you into her, Benny boy.”

“Richie, I don’t think—”

“Three!”

Richie Tozier’s hands pressed against Ben’s overly stuffed backpack and handed him a hard shove in the direction of where Y/N was peacefully heading out of the school’s north entrance. The force was a hair too much on Richie’s part, on purpose, sending both awestricken Ben and his oblivious crush tumbling to the grass laying in front of the school. Ben’s usual dose of panic shot through his veins from the collision into the girl, immediately regretting telling Richie about his little crush, the shock from the impact leaving him laid across the ground even as Y/N had already rushed in getting up.

Pushing herself to her feet with ease, dusting the dirt that found its way to the short skirt she had worn specifically for Patrick’s plans after school, her narrowed eyes fell on the boy planted on the grass who looked up at her like she was a celebrity just striding through the school’s hallways for fun. The glower on her face had morphed into from the shove softened up when she read the obvious lovey-dovey signs that Ben had smeared across his adorable face at the sight of her, a look she wasn’t used to receiving anymore since she linked herself to the infamous Patrick Hockstetter.

“You okay there?” Her soothing, velvety, voice pulled him from his loving thoughts surrounding her; putting a pause on the numerous amounts of poetic verses he was already conjuring up in his brain at the sight of her lovely facial features under the warm April sun.

Outstretching a genuine helping hand down to the shoved boy, the corners of her baby pink lips twitching into a coy half-smile at the thought of finally emitting the same effect Patrick always had on her onto someone else. It gave her a sense of control, making someone be as love stricken like she was with her boyfriend, a feeling that wasn’t familiar with her. Her freshly painted red nails heavily contrasted Ben’s pale skin when she curled her fingers around his palm, pulling him up with ease and nodding down at him in acknowledgement.

“Uh, yeah. I’m so sorry about him, he has this stupid thing where he thinks pushing his friends is hilarious.” Ben hastily apologized, his shy tongue stumbling over his words and his clammy hand rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.

The familiar flush of scarlet stretched across his cheeks when the girl didn’t bother breaking her intent gaze on him, feeling as if all the innocent thoughts he had since he first saw her were written all across his skin for her to publicly view. Instead of from disgust at his obvious liking towards her, which is what he had anticipated since he first took notice of her in the halls, Y/N accepted his crush on her with open arms — in desperate need of the ego boost and lacking the bone in her to torment the poor boy like her boyfriend would if given the opportunity.

“Trashmouth Tozier? Yeah, I don’t find that hard to believe.” She softly laughed he situation off, glancing back at where Richie and his friends were watching the spectacle and quickly turned their observing eyes away when they she looked their way. “I’m Y/F/N, by the way and you’re Ben Hanscom, right?” She inquired, cocking an eyebrow at him with friendly interest.

“Yeah, I just moved to Derry a few weeks ago.” Ben explained, even though, he was sure that it was a known fact around the school now.

“So, I’ve heard.” Y/N nodded, not bothering to mention that she had heard that little fact from the group conversation her boyfriend and the gang were having; talk of what to do to put Hanscom in his place being the topic circulated throughout the car. “How’s it going for you, so far?” She asked him, the attention she was throwing his way not something he was used to from people other than the Losers.

“Well, it’s—“

“Here, let’s sit.”

Y/N interrupted what she expect to be a long reply by leading him over to the concrete, now empty, steps of the school and taking a seat at the bottom step. Patting the empty spot beside her, eager to have a normal conversation with someone other than the gang, she looked up at him with expectant eyes that Ben just couldn’t find himself saying no to. Hesitantly seating himself on the step, leaving a safe distance between them, he beamed at the sight of her sweetly grinning at him as she urged him to continue what he was saying.

“So, tell me about your stay here so far.”

Some luck seemed to oddly be on the girl’s side as Patrick stood a few yards away with his back to her, unaware that the person he was waiting for was seated at the school’s entrance with another boy at her side — a sight he would’ve put a stop to immediately if he was present at the scene. Not all luck was on her side, though. The rest of the gang were leaning against the car with their gazes set on their friend’s girlfriend and their ears forced to listen to the explicit details Patrick was given them on his plans for tonight; Y/N, undressed and in his bed, being the focal point of his words.

“Oh, yeah?” Henry rudely interrupted Patrick’s obscene words and pushed himself of the car. He stared down the much taller kid and smirking at him in the way Patrick had seen him do many times when he was ready to tear down a kid’s self-esteem like his father always did to him at home. “How come she’s whoreing it up with the new kid then?” He smirked, nodding over at the school behind him and snickering at Patrick’s bewildered expression, a rare sight that he always treasured.

“The hell are you talking about, Bowers?”

Patrick lecherous leer fell into a frustrated frown at Henry’s words, eyebrows furrowing and narrowed, deadly, eyes landing on Henry’s amused face — daring him to repeat his last statement. When Henry met him with silence, the boyish smirk taunting him to reconsider his words, Patrick turned on the heel of his combat boot and looked back at where Y/N appeared to be having the time of her life. Scoffing under his breath when Y/N swatted Ben’s chest with her melodious laugh filling the minimal space between them, Patrick scowled at the sight of her attentively hanging onto every word the smaller boy was saying, an action that Patrick had only permitted her to use on him.

“I guess it’s time we introduce ourselves to that new kid like you said, huh?”

Patrick sauntered back over to the desolate school, the scowl on his face contouring back into his usual smile that screamed danger. His hands fell to his sides, balling themselves up into fists and the sweet idea of connecting them with Ben Hanscom’s face filling him with each step he took in their direction. The rest of them followed in suit, more so excited to have a fresh body to lay their hands on than to help Patrick, not having met their daily quota of kids to bully. The Losers’ gazes turned wary when they first caught sight of the lanky, looming, figure heading towards the school.

“Shit, Hockstetter’s headed their way.” Richie cursed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and looking over at the other two for ideas on what to do; knowing the three of them wouldn’t be enough to stop the deadly blows the gang had planned for Ben. “I forgot she was seeing that freak!” He exclaimed, desperately wishing that Beverly and Bill would hurry up whatever they were doing inside the school still.

“Fuck, you think he’ll be okay?” Stan asked, his question hanging in the air when the other boys refused to acknowledge the bitter truth, never leaving his eyes from the lethal storm approaching Ben’s romantic scene.

“No.” Eddie boldly replied, speaking the truth that the other two boys were afraid to voice, knowing that they needed the missing pair to be an effective distraction for Ben.

“Well, what do we have here, guys?” The laughing pair glanced up at the source of the new shadow looming over them, blocking the friendly sunlight they previously had. “New kid trying to get in my girl’s pants? Without my permission?”

Ben felt the blood in his veins turn cold at the sight of the group of boys that had it out for him since day one, his many attempts to steer clear of their path thrown out the window as he was forced to meet their most dangerous one in the eyes. Sadly taking sight of Ben’s frightened body, his once gleeful eyes drenched in fear because of her boyfriend’s mere presence, Y/N hurriedly stood up from her seat and stood in between them to serve as a makeshift barrier.

“Patrick, cut it out.” She weakly tried, crossing her arms over her chest in a defiant manner and forcing herself to stare up at him.

“Cut what out?” Patrick asked, glancing around the faces of his friends to see that they were enjoying this as much as him before jutting a thumb in Ben’s direction. “Putting this tub of lard in his place? Someone’s gotta show him Derry’s ropes, baby”

“That’s not funny.” Rolling her eyes at the usage of a pet name, knowing it was all for show, she grimaced at the sound of the gang snickering from Patrick’s crude comment.

“Did I tell you to tell me if it was funny, Y/N? Like I didn’t tell you that you could be a little slut with other boys.”

“He was just being friendly.” If it had been another scenario, Y/N’s words would have wounded Ben’s fragile ego but in this situation, he would rather want Hockstetter to believe that he was just being a friend.

Y/N coming to another person’s defense irked Patrick even more, the cruel intentions in him growing on the ruthless scale as he looked from his girlfriend to the enemy in his mind.

“That true, faggot?” Patrick’s attention falling on him caused Ben to hastily stand up from his once comfy seat, his pupils darting from threatening face to threatening face before landing back on the worst one. “Were you just being a friendly little shit to my girl or were you thinking of what she would look like under this ittt bitty skirt? Want me to give me you a peek?”

A long arm hooked around her neck, her hands desperately moving to pry it off due to it’s tight hold against her throat threatening her breathing, he pulled her back into the front of his body. Ben helplessly watched from where Vic and Belch were now holding him down as Patrick wrapped his other arm around her squirming waist, fingers curling around the bottom of her skirt and inching it up to reveal more skin than Y/N had intended. The gross whistles coming from the boys at the sight was the pushing point for Y/N to heavily push her elbow against his skinny torso, sending him stumbling back and freeing her from his hold as her hands flattened her skirt back against her thighs.

“Fucking asshole.” Y/N viciously spat at her stupid boyfriend, charging at his grinning figure with an intensity he adored but stopped by Henry Bowers roughly pulling her back in place by her shirt, stopping her mid punch and earning a sneer from her as she tried to swat his hands off of her.

“Look at what you did, now she’s all pissy with me and won’t do me later.” Patrick dramatically exclaimed, letting out an exaggerated huff and crouching down to where they had Ben held down by the soles of their shoes. “Thanks for screwing up my plans.” He lightly slapped his hand against Ben’s cheek in a taunting manner before shooting a look at Henry, the raise of the eyebrows and tongue running over his bottom lip giving Henry the go to take out his knife and let go of his girlfriend.

Pushing the girl off of him, Henry darted over to where the new kid was being held down by the other half, knife glimmering from the once innocent sunlight in his hand. Hopelessly watching as Patrick sauntered back over to her, his large hand cupping her saddened face, enjoying the sight of her pretty eyes glazing over from the threat of tears spilling from frustration.

“I only do it because I don’t want them to think they have a chance with you, I need to teach them a lesson. Don’t think you’re being let off easy, though.”

Patrick’s threat of her own ‘punishment’ were hidden underneath the sweet tone he forced himself to have; though, not fooling her one bit since she knew him all too well. “Head home, I’ll meet you there in thirty.” Softly pushing her away from him in the direction of her path home, Patrick shot her one last boyish smirk before he headed back to where his group of buddies were.

#patrick hockstetter one shot #Patrick hockstetter imagine

253 notes · View notes

satire-please · 7 years ago

Text

My Teeth are like Swords - Part 2

Summary: (I’m tired and can’t transfer this in a way to keep my italics in dang it.) Tim is a detective...who lives with detectives. The other Bat's start noticing something different about one of their own. And Tim realizes that he can't hide forever.

Part 1

Dragon Tim on Ao3

Like finding gold dust on a blood moon, there are times Tim will hear about his Mother. It’s difficult to encounter another drake, they’re too rare, too widely spread that it’s a miracle that Tim has met two. But it’s always a surprise to hear that Janet Drake is considered a romantic, sentimental imbecile to other dragonfolk.

To mate with a human is one thing, but to shift and willingly live beside them in their pitiful metal ant hills? Preposterous.

And to carry young on that state? Inside of their own bodies instead of in a proper shell as hard as diamonds? Unheard of.

What foolish unnecessary risks.

Tim felt his core bubble in warmth whenever he hears such slander. That Mother would care that much. Once, he did approached her on the subject.

“I spent many centuries as a upstanding, model drake.”Janet sniffed disdainfully, steering Tim from a fuming man at one of Gotham’s many galas. The drake from the east is starting to show, smoke passing from his nose uncontrollably. How embarrassing, her Timothy showed more restraint when he was three. “Now I find it much more valuable of my time to do as I please. Besides, the fact remains that my line will continue to endure and adapt unlike most bloodlines that will taste stone and dust.”

Tim summed it up to, ‘I do what I want. Leave me alone or burn.’

She glanced behind her to give the man a subtle sneer. What a fool to think that she would accept such an inadequate betrothal for her son. And, to add insult to injury, the man’s daughter hadn’t even bothered to present herself. “A dragon is a dragon, Timothy. It doesn't matter if you are half, a quarter or only possess a single drop of our blood. Magic doesn't care. It will still take, you will still shift, you will still fly. And if those incessant pathetic hair ribbons say anything different, show them there are still ways to make a dragon fry.”

Tim loved his Mother.

It’s...a shame he’s the only one who knew how she died.

And it wasn’t from that stupid water Obeah left, no matter how traditional to dragon slaying poison is. True it weakened her to the point of inducing a death-like coma, but if Tim lifted an eyelid the iris would still flash and respond. If Tim pressed his hand to her chest, he’d still feel the hint of fire tucked within.

Robbing the cemetery had been a pain though. It’s not like he could just tell Dad that, ‘Um hey, mother’s not dead. No, I know she seems like she’s dead. Yes, I know she doesn’t have a pulse, but you see–’

Yeah, not happening.

He abused his connections for a nice cave carved out of the cliff face next to the manor. It’s not like Mr. Wayne was using it. It could be accessed from the rocky beach if necessary, the entrance tight until you were a couple meters in. Then it stretched enough for his mother’s body to shift unconsciously, so the dragon could heal and sleep in peace.

Tim had thought it was perfect.

It didn’t matter much in the end.

Not when Mother finally woke and could smell Tim’s lie about Dad. Not when she stopped eating. The young teen would find, hunt, and drag dead deer and antelope into the cave only to rot around her body as she stared emptily at the stone walls. She waited for death. Nothing could change her mind...no matter how much he begged and pleaded.

“Please!” He stroked her rough eyelid, thoughts racing for any excuse for her to stay with him. To not leave him alone. “Isn’t there something you still have to teach me?”

His hand falls away as a lazy violet eye cracks open. It’s bigger than his head and the pupil focuses so achingly slow. “You’ve known all since you turned twelve, my pet. Our race never repeats themselves, not with memories like ours.”

“B-But I need–”

“You have my hoard, you will not go without means. You have my brain, you will do well and even thrive. You have a territory, a perfect environment for your future form and most of all you possess a purpose to keep your heart beating. Even if it is as ridiculous as looking after those silly humans. I am satisfied...now let me die in peace.”

“No please, m-mother, stay with me.”

“Oh, my darling. One day you will understand. Our love...is a terrible thing.”

And with that she stopped responding. Tim reasoned, screamed, cried while the reflection of his distraught face became clear in those unblinking glassy eyes. His throat raw as he hit and scratched uselessly at the black scales going grey, like the ashy rock dripping behind them until the camouflage of her skin was truth and she was stone.

Like all dragons when they die.

That’s how Timothy Drake inherited Gotham, sobbing on his knees as the refuge became a crypt.

It takes several years before Tim raids another grave...his father’s.

After all, Mother would appreciate his skeleton crystallizing next to hers. She would have liked that.

Timothy still loves his Mother.

It's a slow night and Jason’s gonna explode. He's stopped four muggings, seven car thefts, and a couple of kids trying to make a molotov cocktail. Okay, Jason felt bad at stopping the last one, come on what is he turning into? A twitchy cop? Geez, let kids be kids and fuck the police. He’s about to shoot his own damn foot for some excitement when he sees something in the corner of his eye as he hits the next roof.

Oh-ho? In the curve of hanging gargoyles menacingly scowling at those is a hint of red that tugs a smirk on Hood’s lips.

Replacement.

Well, alright, he hasn't meant that name in a bad way for a while. It's not like Jay wants to carve a new one in Mr. Serious anymore. Sure, he’s an annoying prude with the biggest stick up his ass, hangin’ off Bats’ every word like the good guard dog, the good tool he is, but, hey, he ain't a bad guy. Saved Jay from enough pinches that he feels right and guilty about the whole almost bleedin’ him out thing. So he makes it up the only way he can..with tough love. Plus, the more Jay can shake that Babybird nice and loose, the better. He takes in the former Robin’s figure, how he’s hunched in upon himself. His head of black resting on his knees as the crouch tucks him right under one of the silent stone guardians.

Babybird snoozing on the job? Have some shame.

Not that Jay has any of that. He barely stops himself from snickering, giving himself away when the helmet goes static for it, and creeps closer. Close enough to get the best view of the little shit’s face. It takes a Bat to sneak up on a Bat, you know. A grin spreads wide on his cheeks as he pulls his gun from his holster (it’s only rubber bullets now, calm the fuck down) Then, he aims to the sky and fires.

The crack of the bullet gives Jay the most beautiful flinch and jerk you ever did see–

Boom.

–but the returning blast of burning hot possible death that floods the ledge is not.

It takes every scrap of speed he has to not singe his fucking eyebrows off. It’s more fire than force, but thank Batman for quick reflexes and the tell tale click near Red.

“What the hell, Babybird?” Smoke billows, curling around the two and Jason coughs, waving his arms madly.

“I could say the same for you, asshole.” In the black mess, a spark sputters between Tim’s teeth, just like an annoying lighter that flickers and hurts your thumb the more you try, as he tries to control his shaky breathing. Inhale. Damn, that really startled him. Exhale. His fangs sink into his lower lip, drawing blood over the rude awakening. He shakes his head like a dog, forcing what was sharp canines into blunt square human teeth. “Gunshot really? Gosh, you always have to be a dick, don’t you?”

“Do you always have to throw something flashy when ya wake up? Ain’t that Robin’s way?” Jason brushes his clothes, disgruntled. He didn’t see a flash grenade or anything, but Bats right? More prepared than a Girl Scout.

“Maybe.” Tim wonders how long he’s going to get convenient excuses.

“What? Ya sleep with them or something? Didn’t know ya needed a teddy bear, Replacement.”

Tim smirked, “Oh, come on, Hood, didn’t you learn to let sleeping dragons lie?”

“Ha, ha. Whatever, call it a night, you pyromaniac piece of shit.” Jason puts his gun away and fishes for a peace offering under his collar. He thrusts the white cigarette at the other, “Smokes?”

“Not right now, Hood.”

“Your loss, Replacement.” Jason lights it, dragging a puff to cover up a pout. Hmpf, stuffy princess. Doesn’t drink with him (I’m not legal to drink, Jason). Never smokes with him (We have set an example to Damian, Jason). Jay should be offended cause nowadays Tim carries the hazy scent round like a club’s perfume and Jay knows he’s hiding the good stuff somewhere.

He’s just never seen Tim do it.

Tim observes the turn of Jason’s mouth and jerks his head towards the street below, “Not smokes, but you hungry enough for hotdogs?”

“This is Gotham, baby, when I am ever not down for hotdogs?”

The two shoot their grappling lines towards a vendor who’s too used to this shit to give one. But as Tim rattles off their order, something itches at Jason. Something that’s off.

(The Gargoyle they left above bares new marks along its side. The side that Jason couldn’t see. They were not chiseled in, but Tim is sure most wouldn’t notice the new additions.)

Whatever.

He’ll figure it out.

Timmy’s been sleeping more.

Dick is so grateful he wipes at an imaginary tear, sniffs, and whips out his phone to snap a picture again. Tim doesn’t snore, but that’s definite drool on his chin, nicccccccce. Dick takes in the scene and gets another shot from a different angle. He almost has a full album now titled, Behold the Cryptid Sleeps, it’s only fair after all the pictures Tim took of them when he was their cutest little stalker. For now, Dick just calls it karma and texts Babs to back the good stuff up.

But, okay, Dick admits it’s starting to get weird.

And Timmy’s sleeping habits have always been weird. Before he had stolen Bruce’s crown and title of Sleep Dep King. Working on case after case, day after day only to finally pass out, usually with something like,

“How many days does it take to start hallucinating again, Bruce?”

“...Three.”

“Huh, so that’s why you’re purple with seven eyes.”

It usually takes a lot to get Timmy to crash and burn into a bed, usually (always) in the form of Alfred and good food laced with sedatives. It’s not that Timmy doesn’t know that they’re in the food, it’s just that no one says no to Alfred Pennyworth. No one.

But now it’s like Tim is on an egg timer and it’s wonderful.

After about 24 or 26 hours, against his will, Timmy starts swaying on his feet and lurches grumpily towards a safe, soft spot to snooze. True, Dick notes sometimes they’re odd places, like underneath the desk of the bat computer, nestled in much of the wiring. Or head resting on the kitchen table, his angry eyes drooping with, “I don’t understand. Coffee has failed me, Alfred.”

“Our bodies change over time, Master Timothy. One cannot expect caffeine to sustain them forever.”

“You’re...lying. You did something to the coffee, admit it!”

“I have not...this time.”

“You must have I...can’t even–” But Tim doesn’t get to finish the response.

“Master Dick I believe Master Timothy needs to be escorted to his room. If you would–” Alfred leaves the sentence open, because anytime Dick can hold an unconscious, not struggling brother? You know he’s all over that.

Bruce has even started to prioritize breaks in the patrol schedule for Tim. Or, to be more accurate, he’s encouraging (enforcing) Tim to use the breaks that have always been there.

But…really the switch in the dynamic is kinda odd, especially when Dick finds Tim on one of the Manor’s couches after patrol, his skin paler than milk and shivering in his sleep. When the room is set to 75 degrees….and he’s under at least five blankets.

Dick pads over and cups the younger vigilante face in two hands. “Holy Batman, Timmy, you're as cold as ice.” His brow furrows when Tim barely responds to the statement, his eyes half open to blurrily peer at Dick. That’s not a good sign. Plus, he’s is not kidding. Tim’s skin is cool to the touch, it could compete with one of the dripping stalagmites in the cave.

“S’cold Dick…and tired.” The words push out of his lips clumsily. He raises his arms to grasp the Dick’s wrists as if he was going to push the hands off his cheek and then just forgot. The heat’s too inviting. “Just need sleep, m’fine.”

“I think you're a liar that lies, Babybird.” Dick leans back only to pull the covers off enough to slip beside Tim onto the couch. He tugs the boy in with an arm until Tim's head finds a comfy spot on his shoulder. Heck yeah, it's cuddle time. The best way to share body heat ever. He looks around the den and sees the remote for the T.V. It takes a few tries to stretch in a way to get it, especially without moving too far from Tim, but Dick’s not an acrobat for nothing.

Tim huffs a weary laugh against Dick’s neck, “Well, I'm the guy that lies to Batman, you know.”

“Shhhhhhh, he’ll hear you.” Dick pats Tim’s hair, starts clicking channel after channel (a thousand channels is just not enough) for something to watch.

“M’good, you can go.” Tim didn’t expect it would take so long for his core to normalize. Fire might smoulder under his breast, but damn it, it’s sucking most of the heat from his extremities. To his calculations, it may be months before his body can adjust to the change...if ever. Tim can already imagine the mountain of clothing he’ll need for Gotham’s winter. Mother got away with it by layering and calling in fashion. How is Tim going to spin it when he’s jumping off roof-tops fat with every wool item he can find? Oh. Or he could design heaters in his clothing. That could work. But still, this is the reason why most drakes live near volcanoes. Temperature regulation is a bitch.

Dick hums above him and breaks Tim’s line of thought. Oh well, he guesses he’ll stay here for a bit longer, just until he thaws out and stops being an Tim-icicle. It’s not that Dick minds, right? He fades away at the sound of a bad romantic comedy playing in the background.

He doesn’t see the frown on Dick’s face.

Or hear him quietly whisper into his com, “Alfred, could you run some tests for me?”

Alfred would have a conniption.

“Drake, you wretched slob.”

Damian must see to it that the competent butler never visits the former Robin. Ever. The man is old and truly must be spared from any health issues that may occur from witnessing this vile display of chaos. In fact, Damian wishes he could spare himself from the scene, yet Father did request him to fetch the evidence and Dick is off planet. How dare he.

Damian squints pass the entrance only to flinch back. There in the dark, two pinpricks of purple follow his every move...and hiss.

The Robin swallows and forces the door open all the way, allowing the dim light from the basement to flood the room. There are no light switches. It’s...odd. The boiler hums nearby explaining the heat that’s almost sweltering. Heaps of objects litter the floor, making narrow pathways here and there. Fortunately, food must be absent in the debris since the smell lacks rot. Instead what perfumes the air is what Damian associates with his predecessor, the smell of spices burned with a touch of something chemical. Gasoline, perhaps? Damian’s breathing finally evens out when he spots a mess of black hair poking out from a mountain of bedding.

Blearily, Tim focuses on the intruder. “Damian? What are you doing here?” he sleepily grumbles.

Though Grayson might find the tone endearing, Damian does not.

“I have come for the Spear of Enue. Father requires it and has requested me to retrieve it from you. He said it was in your possession?”

“B needs to leave my stuff alone.” Tim sits upright, staring emptily for a moment and clearly displeased about being awake. Then, with a groan he sluggishly works himself out of the bedding. “But a case is a case, I guess. Yeah, I have it, just give me a sec to get it.”

“The spear is here?”

A hum. “Sure, it is, why wouldn’t it be?”

Well, at least Drake seems more amenable when half-awake. Robin crosses his arms and strives not to look too haughty. Usually collecting data from the older vigilante takes more coaxing (threats) and persuasion (heavy bickering) to get the desired result. Perhaps he should lend his assistance.

“Drake, where are your lights? Two pairs of eyes would obviously be quicker than one.”

“Lights?” A confused tone. “Why would I need lights? I can see just fine.”

“Tch, I’m surprised you can locate anything in this outrageous dump.”

“Mother always said I was a messy hoarder, but I have a strong belief that mess is a matter of perspective. Besides, I know exactly where everything is.”

Tim slinks out of bed and makes his way toward a pile that seems to have earned the category of lethal and shiny weapons. Damian attempts to move towards the same direction, but his foot hits an item and he just manages to make the trip look intentional. Of course, Drake was not even looking. Wait.

“Drake, is that my katana?” He points to the hilt barely poking out from the bottom, half of the weapon slithering from under the bed.

It’s a silly habit that Tim can’t shake from childhood to put the most prized things under his bed, like the old cardboard box full of pictures, a few stacks of spanish golden doubloons marked from a toddler’s teething, a cursed ruby the size of a skull, you know the usual.

“...Yes?” Tim’s head bobs up from his search and glances over at the weapon. Then, he pauses for a moment or two, his expression shifting so fast (Mine, not mine, mine, not mine) that Damian cannot place it, “Oh, sorry. I guess you’d want that back. I mean, of course you do, it belongs to you, I only had it because you were gone and–”

Drake cuts off, making no movement towards the old katana. Damian reasons it must have been acquired while he was not among the living. He doesn’t know how to feel about Drake keeping that kind of memento, yet he notes there is a definite lack of rage that usually accompanies such a theft. In addition, Drake looks like a petulant child.

“It does not matter. I no longer require a child’s katana.” Damian waves a hand to the other heaps. “The spear, however, Drake, Father needs immediately.”

“Right.”

It is then he notices Drake’s unusual attire. The vigilante groggily separates the pile for what Damian seeks in boxers and a baggy Gotham U sweatshirt that keeps sliding over a white shoulder. How peculiar, Drake never went to college so why...ah, yes, Dick. But what really has Damian’s brows rising is the two thick watches on Tim's wrist. One that he's definitely seen on his father once before and a glint of something shiny peeking from the sweatshirt.

“Do you often sleep in diamonds, Drake?”

“They're nice to look at before bed,” Tim muttered absentmindedly.

“Is that a slogan for this new fashion statement?” Damian walks over and curiously pulls down the collar to look at it more closely. Many of the gems are larger than an egg as they lace together in the metal filigree. It covers a wide band over Drake’s collarbones before cascading towards his sternum in delicate chains. “This piece is familiar to me. Drake, are these the jewels we recovered from Catwoman?”

“One, I demand the fundamental human right to always be pretty, witty, and gay. You’ll understand when you’re older. Two, I bought these from that auction fair and square, so Selina should have keep her mangy paws off them.”

Suddenly, Damian remembers that specific tackle to take down the thief had been...more enthusiastic and vicious on Drake’s part. Usually Father is the one to handle any incidents with her, but perhaps all it takes is emotional investment to pin down the slippery woman.

Tim pries off Damian’s fingers only to press what he seeks in them. “Here, the spear. Now, get out. If you’re gonna mock and insult me, I want four more hours of sleep first.”

The spear is heavy, but Damian manages with a tilt to this lips. “Very well, I’ll skin and eviscerate you later, Drake.”

Drake snorts. “And, hey, you have a spear and everything. All you have to do is be knighted and we’d have the perfect fairytale set up. Farewell, Sir Brat.” He waves to the door before collapsing onto the bed, preparing his nest the way he wants it.

Damian watches the ritual all the way to the door. Stops to take in the scene one a final time. It’s strange, but it does seem like a lair from one of his grandfather’s monster stories. Dark, warm like a breathing thing, full of hidden treasure...and danger.

How right he is.

But he comes to the realization later...much later.

Bruce has seen a lot.

He’s fought aliens on ships millions of lightyears from Earth and tangled with kraken under the sea. He’s negotiated with Circe for Diana’s sake and fed viruses to ruin robot armies for Clark’s. He’s handled witches, sorcerers, and time-travellers from around the world. Every night he tries to plug one of Gotham’s bleeding holes as they gush out the vile and the crazy with the Joker, Ivy, Harvey, and more.

Bruce has seen a lot.

But the universe keeps surprising him one way or another. And sometimes? Closer to the heart then he expected.

“So, you’re the drake that rejected my proposal.”

“And you’re the dame that didn’t even bother to show up to make it.”

Bruces eyes flicker back and forth between his third son and the young, literally steaming woman in front of them. Her pale white hair whips behind her like something alive. The villain of the month does the same. Apparently, Gotham has the perfect waterfront property for the taking, especially with the leyline that cuts right through the city or so the warlock just finished monologuing about.

“What are you doing? I said destroy them.” The fuming sorcerer demands pointing at the Bat-clan. Golems rise in various stages around them being the only opponents beyond the man and woman. They’re all near the Manor by the beach, a few miles from the city but even with the home field advantage...Bruce feels a thread of concern to see Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian joining him to put their backs against the cliff face below his family home.

“Just a moment, Master, I have some unfinished business to attend to.” The woman raises a hand and starts to undo her cloak.

“Master? My, my.” Tim flicks his bo to the side. It’s not going to be useful here. Ugh, this is not how he wanted this to go. “Just how low has your line fallen? Mother was right to refuse to even consider you as a candidate. Do you follow his every command or do you just lick his boots?”

“How. Dare. You.” The woman’s eyes glow yellow and her voice’s pitch becomes grating.

Tim snorts. “Look at you. You can’t even control your shift….pathetic.”

“Red Robin, the situation, now.” Bruce tries striking another golem, but Tim ducks to put himself between the Bats and the newcomers.

“You judge me, when you wear human flesh so much that you stink of it? Your true scent barely bleeds through.” The odor of rancid sulfur strikes the air. The woman peels off her clothes, layer by layer until a pile litters the sand. “Half-breed.”

Rude. The human and dragon are both his scents. Tim thinks he smells fine, thanks.

“I said–” The villain tries to command but the dame strides towards Red Robin.

“How are you different from me? The warlock will save my line and give us power, but you? You play at human.”

“I do what I want,” Tim icily states. “Which is more that I can say for you. Now get out of my territory or burn.”

“No, I think I’m going to put a male in his place. Beneath me.” And the woman lets out a cry that turns into a roar. The other Bats watch as the woman’s form hutches over, makes a terrible crack and then grows. And grows. And grows. Scales take shape as her neck elongates and it’s sickening. Before them a white dragon rises and crashes a claw on the beach. It’s the size of a house.

‘Well…’ Bruce thinks. ‘That’s something new.’

“A dragon, come on. You have to be fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” Jason snarls, shooting at the beast. The rubber bullets do nothing but irritate the overgrown Godzilla-wanna-be.

“Wait, it gets better,” Tim mutters. “So, burn it is. This is why we can’t have nice things between dragons. What a pity...bring it.”

And there is a collective gasp.

Because Tim smirks and the beach is overcome with a violent blast. When the smoke clears...there’s nothing?

Nothing but the golems on the beach, the Bats fighting them and the warlock hissing out commands to a white giant worm, who is diverting much from his cunning plan.

But no Tim.

The white dragon shrieks in fury and raises her giant wings, preparing to crush those on the sand when something large slams into her side. She lurches over and peers over her shoulder. Nothing. But several of her scales are cracked from the impact.

Then, it’s as if thunder booms right in front of them, making their eardrums ring from the force of the sound. Under the blow, the white worm topples forward attempting to steady herself.

It’s shadowy and massive, a heavy body and the thumping beat of wings. It’s slowly moving into the moonlight on the beach, kicking up sand.

The Bats shields their eyes even with the whiteouts down, the gust knocking into kevlar and nomac. Nightwing automatically throws an arm out to keep Robin from falling; Hood makes an unconscious grab to the other arm.

And when he lights down, massive razor-tipped claws digging into the sand, the black scales and shiny leather of wings give the Bats one hell of an answer to all those burning questions.

Timmy’s always cold.

The cave, the hoard.

The night vision.

The ever-ready exploding “pellets”.

All of it comes to a sudden dawning realization.

The baddie of the night looks from one dragon to the other, trepidation leaking in because who would have thought two dragons at once.

Low muttering, winding a spell even as the new dragon throws back his power neck and roars. It shakes them down to their very bones, a sound unlike any they’ve heard before.

The shift of muscle, dark eyes narrowing, and the first lunge is punctuated by the abrupt cries of the Bats who have come to the realization this is one of their own.

But there’s no pause when claws come up to strike, when the first is a good one, raking into his side, putting his first blow into soft underbelly, close to the intended target.

(Only one way to kill a dragon, the heart has to go.)

“Motherfuck--Tim!” But Hood can do nothing but watch the blood, ripe and rich in the night splatter the beach, hoping stupidly it ain’t all Red’s.

“Get to the sides!” the Batman roars, already moving, already reaching for the next weapon in his belt.

He sees the opening when both dragons rear up on hind legs for the next blow, his gauntlet spitting out flash pellets.

It’s go time as the rest of the Robins take it all in and move. Robin pulls a duck and dodge through legs with a batarangs ready for the baddie on the other side.

Hood pulls a whole lotta how ya’ doin’ when the .45s spit a few rubber bullets right on the gouge marks, sliding through the sand as the bigger dragon leans down to latch teeth into Tim’s neck and hold the fuck on.

Nightwing leaps, even with the sand trying to bog him down, both sticks out in a double blow at the exposed weakness behind the white dragon’s ear. He has enough time to cringe at the sound of pain tearing into the night, to see the gleam of claws sinking into her belly in a knee-jerk reaction.

The fight going on behind them, the golem starting to shift and move at the sorcerer’s botched command, and Robin just breathes out a deep damn sigh because honestly, some of us have homework to dumb down. But he shifts, pulling out pellets in rapid succession as he moves closer to the army. The abrupt, “huu,” is just more proof he is a superior marksman. The mental note to pick up the tome from which those accursed spells emanate from is another task on the night’s to-do list.

The abrupt shock of Nightwing’s stick and the barrage of bullets takes its toll, getting the white dragon to jerk away from that black jugular, to rear back with pain.

The claws sink deeper, Red growling low, smoke curling from his maw. His eyes slide to the sides, making sure the Bats are out of firing range before he opens his maw with that familiar and suddenly very telling click.

“Down!” It’s Batman that throws the last exploding batarang within range to the white dragon’s injured belly, so the blast of burning blue flame ignites, sets the soft, vulnerable innards to char.

Red, however, takes the last blow for his own (because she picked the wrong fucking city, the wrong family, the wrong dragon to fuck with), claws sinking in, and the meaty thump in the center is just at the right place to reach.

Low and huffing, “try me.”

“You wouldn’t,” her voice cracks from agony.

“Threaten what’s mine, and I won’t think twice.” He gives just the smallest squeeze to punctuate the point.

“Better not fuck with him, bitch,” Hood’s voice, lazy through the synths while he eyes the army Demon is gonna be taking on, “he ain’t one ta joke.”

The white dragon growls and the iridescent black dragon can feel her tensing up as if to give her last hurrah, to go out with a bang, but he’s having none of that. He snarls, the sound deep from within his chest as he snaps his jaws just in front of the dame’s face, sparks clicking behind his gleaming ivory teeth. “You should know,” he practically purrs, “there are fates worse than death. Don’t. Push. Me.” His words, his threat (a bluff, shh), thankfully, gets the right reaction. She sags with a trailing growl, eyes glittering with malice and defeat.

“Go. Get out of my territory.” The words leave no argument.

“W-Who…” she spits blood, dotting the sand, “who would want...your...shoddy terr-territory anyway.”

Slowly, he retracts, pulling his claws back while the click echoes against the bluff, a warning and a promise. But the dame doesn’t move to start the fight up again. She needs time to heal the grievous injuries. The mage will earn his own fate.

“And now, next on the list,” Nightwing sighs, looking from the dragon to where Robin has starting whipping out the tricks and traps on the moving golem.

“By the way, Timmers,” Hood’s neck cranes as he look up at the massive face hanging low, the chest heaving with that little scuffle. “You ever think, hmm, I dunno to say you might be a motherfucking dragon or some shit? I mean, don’t they say that shit right off the fucking bat?”

The dragon huffs down at him as Hood holds up a hand to demonstrate, “‘nice ta meetcha. Name’s Timmy. Like long flights ‘round the beach, beatin’ the shit outta assholes, and literally roasting my enemies.

Ya know, just the usual shit for Gotham.”

#Dragon Tim #my writing #tim drake #batfamily #I'm tired #iphoenixrising is awesome and helped with the fighting scene #allseer is a sweet beta too

101 notes · View notes