#hate how i fucked up having straight teeth by not wearing a retainer

[wri0thesley]

Nat😫😫😫 I'm just reading your naoya posts and I cant😫😫😫 why do I love this arrogant man😫 is it possible to write something of a connected fic to your arrangement story about how he feels jealous over a similarly docile reader (doesnt have to be connected if you dont want tho!!). like he hears about how the reader has been getting marriage proposals from other men since naoya hasnt given an affirmative to your family,,,, and now the reader is forced to consider other candidates (although she still cant atop thinking about our favourite princely asshole) and naoya cant handle this thought lol he deserves to know what angst and the pain of yearning tastes like😌 I hope this wasn't too confusing aaaa😭😭 I love your writing, and im glad youre in this jjk brain rot too🤧

patience - naoya x fem!reader (1.5k)

arrangement // patience // my jjk masterlist

warnings: naoya remains an asshole. submissive reader, arranged marriages, mentions of murder, talk of adultery. pining/angst. not sfw, minors dni!

naoya hates that he can’t stop thinking about you.

Naoya hates that he can’t stop thinking about you.

Oh, he’d meant it when he’d spat ‘pathetic’ and ‘useless’ and ‘worthless’ at you – your bloodline was unimpressive, your lack of cursed technique tragic, your clan elders absolutely idiotic for sending a nobody like you to tempt him. But . . . something about the look in your eyes, the meek little bow of your head, the way you’d listened to every one of his orders with a soft little gasp and a desire to follow them to the latter . . .

He hasn’t told your family that he’s not interested in you, but word gets around the jujutsu community when someone is looking for a spouse. After all, they’re determined to retain blood purity, to keep techniques in the bloodline – your family soon hear that Naoya is still considering all of his options. That other pretty young daughters from other bloodlines have been to see him.

(Naoya rejects them all, for frivolous reasons that he doesn’t want to admit are frivolous. He hadn’t liked the look in that one’s eyes. He didn’t want his children to inherit the colour of that one’s hair. That one had walked two steps behind him, not three--).

You haunt his thoughts. You and the bow of your head, the bite of your lip, the way you’d looked with tears brimming in your eyes. The suggestive curve of you beneath your kimono.

Ugh.

He hears, too, that your family have been exploring their other options. They’d seemed thrilled, at first, that Naoya hadn’t utterly swept you off the table – but six months have passed, and they want their daughter married and out of the house and fulfilling her duties.

He hears about your marriage proposals through that same grapevine. He hears that other men say you are pretty and quiet and obedient, that you will make a fine wife, that you will listen to commands and give soft smiles and raise children like you ought to--

And once, he smashes a glass from gripping it too hard as some nobody in the Kamo clan mentions that he’s going to ask your family for your hand in marriage.

You say no. He hears, too, that your elders are growing frustrated with your dismissals of proposals. They have left behind the thought of marrying you into the Zenin clan, but clearly you’re still clinging to the idea that Naoya might want you despite what he’d said.

He doesn’t, he tells himself, when he wraps his fist around his cock and pumps it and thinks about your look of surprise as his come splatters across your face.

He doesn’t, he tells himself, when he compares a young lady sent to entice him with you. When she looks him in the eye and he thinks that you would never do that, that you would keep your head bowed, that you’d be deferential as he needs you to be.

He doesn’t, he tells himself, as a servant cleans up the shards of glass that he shatters and he asks the Kamo clan member if perhaps he would like to spar, and he hits him just a little bit too hard so he ends up wheezing and doubled over on the training mats as Naoya stalks out of the room.

It’s not his style to pine. He has the pick of every eligible young lady in jujutsu society; he should not be hung up on such a worthless, pathetic little thing.

He hears of another proposal. This one, apparently, hasn’t been rejected straight-out – this one, you seem to be considering. Other members of the Zenin clan don’t understand why his jaw sets at the news.

“You didn’t want her, did you?” He asks. “You didn’t seem keen after the meeting.”

One of his other distant cousins, an upstart too big for his boots, grins.

“That was before she was hot property, though,” he leers at Naoya. “Our golden boy doesn’t like the idea of people coveting his trash--”

Naoya has struck him before he can think and stalked out of that room, too. Something about you has truly opened the can of worms that is Naoya’s violence, and he refuses to admit to himself that it’s because he wants you.

It’s not because you’re hot property – though, certainly, the way other men talk and laugh about you and the knowledge that you’re wanted serves to set a fire within him. It’s because he can’t stop thinking about you.

He tries courtesans. He chooses pretty, well-mannered ones who look a little like you – but their eyes when they look at him are glassy. They’re not the same as yours, brimming with life and want and confusion at the position you’ve found yourself in and the way your body responds to Naoya.

He doesn’t admit to his mistakes. He doesn’t think ‘I should have accepted the proposal, I should have joined the clans’ – instead, he thinks ‘I should have fucked them then and there. I should have made them scream my name until their reputation was ruined and everybody knew they came apart on my cock. It’s their fault that I can’t get them out of my brain.’

He walks with fists and teeth clenched and snaps at every servant who dare looks his way. Naoya has always been unpleasant, but he’s downright impossible with his spine in knots and his eyes narrowed.

He’s going to have to do it. He’s going to have to contact your family, ask for another audience, if only to get your fucking face out of his mind--

He’s not expecting to come across you before he’s even made the call, standing in one of the gardens of the Zenin estate. You’re wearing the same kimono you had first visited him in, and he hates that the sight of it makes a throb low in his belly as he remembers seeing it crumpled on his bedroom floor. He swallows as he stalks towards you and you turn, your pretty eyes widening – he sees the flash of memory, the flash of desire. He wonders if anybody would dare speak to him if he took you right here, in the garden--

An older man opens a door behind you.

Naoya recognises him only vaguely. The Zenin estate is swarming with various, less important Zenins; this one’s a great-uncle, perhaps? Or a cousin thrice removed? He’s someone unimportant in the grand scheme of things, save for the way that he walks up to you and wraps an arm around your waist.

“Ah,” the man with his hands on Naoya’s property says. “I see you’ve met my betrothed.”

His heart stops cold. He’s nobody. Unimportant. Nothing.

He’d called you the same thing; an ‘act of charity’. So why does the sight of an arm around you attached to a man too old and not powerful enough to be a threat make Naoya feel like he’s chewing rocks? Naoya manages to spit out a;

“Congratulations.”

“Yes,” the old man (great cousin? Naoya doesn’t make a habit to remember people he can’t use later on) says, pulling you closer, groping at your hip through the kimono as you keep a sedate, smile on your face without looking directly into Naoya’s eyes. “You’ll be seeing her around a lot. I hope she didn’t bother you.” A squeeze to your ass, this time, shameless. “Say hello to the future leader of the clan, sweetheart.”

(At least this man’s on Naoya’s side, he tries to console himself, but it doesn’t work.)

“H-hello, sir,” you say, and your voice is as tremulous as he remembers it. His cock stirs. He hates this.

“Sorry to bother you,” he inclines his head politely and tugs on your arm, pulling you away, leaving Naoya kissing his teeth and trying to not simply slit the man’s throat with the knife in his hakama and take you for his own.

What had the scum said? ‘You’ll be seeing her around a lot’. He supposes, then, that you’ll be sequestered in one of the other chambers in the Zenin estate--

A slow smile spreads across his face.

You wouldn’t say ‘no’ to your clan leader, would you? And . . . your future husband is old. Any Zenin is a Zenin, is it not? Even if a son is born with Naoya’s features, Naoya’s technique . . . nobody would say anything to him about it. And you’re in reach. Close to him.

He only needs to get you alone before the wedding to make sure he gets to take your maidenhead. He hates the thought of another man’s filthy hands on you, but accidents happen all of the time--

And then you’ll be a widow. You won’t be expected to marry for a while. And if you’ve already borne fruit and proved yourself – perhaps Naoya will even play the chivalrous leader and lower himself to take you for his own.

Yes. Just a little patience.

This is an arrangement he can get behind.

[theravenkin]

hii!! i have a hc that like neil obviously never got correct dental care so he has crooked teeth and and a gap between the 2 front ones and andrew thinks it’s like the cutest thing??? idk i imagine neil starting to cover up his smile because he is self conscious or maybe just getting braces/invisalign and absolutely hating it. you don’t have to do anything with this but i wanted to share :)

OMG I LOVE THIS

ok i definitely do agree that neil's teeth are probably fucked, because yeah he was always on the run but also a) isn't it like a british thing to not do braces n stuff? and b) he's probably gotten his teeth knocked in at least a few times. however, i disagree that he is self conscious; i don't think he really cares. he couldn't care less about how his teeth look. one time someone makes a mean comment to him about his teeth and he's like huh. okay.

alternatively: maybe braces/some other correction was a part of his disguise on the run. maybe because of that neil sort of resents when someone comments on how straight his teeth are. maybe wearing his retainer ever single night was one of those habits mary drilled into him just like dying his hair; maybe post-canon, he throws it away and lets his teeth go crooked again like they were. andrew notices (because of course he does) and is like that little fucking train wreck. with his crooked teeth. ugh. *aggressive show of affection*

anyway i love this idea, thank you for bringing it to my attention 😊

[kbstories]

Entangled

en·tan·gled (adj.) Twisted together; interconnected.

Eustass Kidd joins the Flying Six. The Kidd Pirates go to war.

(Or: Welcome to the worst timeline.)

Tags: Canon Divergence, Blood and Violence, References to Brainwashing, Rescue Missions, Hurt/Comfort (It’s a solid 80% hurt you have been warned)

Set in Wano, Act Three. Spoiler warning for all of Wano. This is an AU where Kidd is imprisoned on Onigashima and Killer doesn’t eat SMILE.

Content warning for some torture, some blood and references to brainwashing.

***

They’re dead, they said.

Wiping blood from his mouth, Kidd had laughed. “My crew? Dying to cock-faced cunts like you? Never.”

They fought to get to you and they died, they said as cruel hands dug into Kidd’s hair and put him under, over and over.

“They didn’t”, Kidd bit back. “They’re alive”, words fractured by the water in his throat, his lungs. Again – they will come – and again – they’re fine – and again – they’ll come for me. By then he couldn’t catch enough breath to speak but it was there, conviction burning bright in his chest.

They said, he’s dead, and even though his eyes could barely see and his ears were ringing, Kidd recognized blue and white and Killer. Kidd’s veins ached with whatever they pumped into him, his brain struggling to tell truth from lie, dream from reality.

The mask is there, real. The seams Kidd worked a full day and night on to get them just right, cracked apart and caked with blood where Killer’s temple would be–

They’re dead, they say and Eustass Kidd’s world shatters apart.

***

The Victoria Punk strains against the raging of the sea, waves mighty as mountains crashing against her skull and bursting into a thousand pieces. Killer doesn’t turn his head away from the spray, lets the ocean sting every inch of exposed skin.

Under his mask, his eyes stare straight into Onigashima’s soulless gaze.

“Hey, you there! Spikey’s friend!”

Strawhat’s voice rings true through the winds and the rain. Killer keeps his arms crossed and nods, the gesture over-articulated to carry despite the storm. “Stick to the plan, Strawhat! We’ll catch up to you on the other side!”

A smile and a thumbs-up from Strawhat to his right, a sardonic laugh from Law to his left. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for an optimist, Massacre Soldier.”

All Killer gives him is the bird. Kidd would’ve laughed at that, he thinks.

Wire is at the helm, hands steadfast and solid. “Keep course”, Killer tells him as he hops down on deck. “There’s a spot at the bottom of the bay. The Punk should be safe there.” Heat flanks him as the rest of the crew gathers, every face around him retaining that grim sort of tenacity that carried them through the past month.

There’s exhaustion there too, so keen Killer can sense it: None of them can quite shake that phantom presence permeating the Punk, the constellation of their very being-together fundamentally incomplete.

To sail into battle without Kidd is… wrong, inconceivable, almost. Killer has endured all magnitudes of that feeling while they scoured every corner of Wano Country in search for that element that will make them whole again, that unique gravitational pull that makes their individual parts click into each other like carefully-crafted machinery.

(It doesn’t get easier, being without him. Missing him. Killer can’t tell why he ever expected it to.)

“Stay low”, Killer reminds his crewmates, his voice as steady as it’s been since this nightmare started. “Find the Flying Six, that’s our priority. We have to get to Kidd before the raid starts, or things will get messy.”

For years, Killer’s mask has been a comfort; the immediate “Aye, Captain” he gets in return makes him wince where the crew can’t see it. It’s a necessity, for them to remain in the dark about his weakness – about the visceral fear that shot through Killer when he realized Kidd is gone and all eyes fell on him to make the next step.

(This has been a possibility since the very beginning yet Killer never expected to live long enough for it to become reality. Always together, even in death, that was the plan.)

*

From the moment their boots touch land, all Killer can think of is Kidd. Find Kidd, save Kidd, a near-obsessive mantra playing in his head on an endless loop as they leave the Punk behind.

For weeks he lived as Kamazo the Manslayer, every scrap of intel extracted in crimson splatters under moonlit skies. Alliances made and information combined for one purpose alone, and it’s worth it to pass by hordes of drunks and people-soon-to-be-drunks unnoticed. Every step the Kidd Pirates make on Onigashima is accounted for, their approach methodical sans the perpetual chaos Kidd’s mere existence brings.

Killer hates how easy it is, to become something other than themselves. There is no time to waste on regret, not here. They have to keep going.

Finally: There is the fortress, there are the Flying Six – and among them, a flash of red Killer would recognize anywhere, anytime. His vision narrows down to the shape of Kidd perched on the parapet, dressed black-on-black like the rest of them, and a murmur goes through the crew behind him. By some animal instinct, Kidd’s head turns and he stares right at them, too.

And for the first time in a month Killer inhales and feels his lungs unfold, his chest swell with a full breath. Kidd is there. He’s right there, and Killer’s too far away to pick up any details but Kidd is alive and now he knows they’re here, too. All that’s left is to get him out of here and regroup and–

“Soldier, watch out!”

–the shout is almost drowned out by Killer’s instincts. He tears his scythes up in the last second to deflect the little bits of something raining down on them. Shrapnel, the ground littered with it in moments.

What the…?

The thunderclap of Conqueror’s Haki precedes a furious roar he has heard a hundred times, a hundred battles over. Killer catches sight of Kidd, and how scrap gathers and swirls around him, the eye of a silver-tinged hurricane about to hit, and his mind stalls as that murderous glare locks on him.

Then Kidd is upon them.

Metal screeches against metal, the air turning sharp and heavy with Kidd’s will as his fists clash against Killer’s scythes. There’s not a shred of hesitance to the strike: A fraction of a second is all Killer gets to seek out Kidd’s eyes, glowing with the sparks exploding in all directions between them, and Killer’s gut drops at the cold fury he finds there.

That, and bloodlust so strong he can taste it. Oh fuck.

The force of the attack has Killer’s heels skidding back a few feet – motherfucker, Kidd isn’t holding anything back, is he? – before Kidd’s gaze flicks to the side and he scoffs, a pissed-off tch.

A breath, drawing deep. Flames engulf them both, then, the fire throwing up a wall that gives Killer some room to breathe.

“Heat”, he gasps, and they motion for him to move. Wire isn’t far behind, grabbing Killer by the elbow and dragging him away from the inferno swallowing the person they came to save. “You okay? Killer. Did he–?”

Killer can barely look elsewhere. “No. I’m fine, Wire, let me– What the hell did they do to him?” The last part is little more than a snarl, something venomous and ugly within him stirring. Just a glimpse of it sends Killer’s heart on a warpath, beating hard enough to throb even in his fingertips.

Wire’s expression is drawn, lips a tense line. “I don’t know but this is bad. There’s too much metal on all of us.” Which is by design, to help Kidd get around in a fight and– Fuck. Fuck.

A handful of seconds, that’s all Heat can buy them. Fire can’t hold Kidd, not for long, the man himself forged in heat and pressure just as the metal he commands. Killer grits his teeth to see Kidd emerge from plumes of smoke wiping soot off that same look on his face, lethal and so cold, and he pulls both Heat and Wire behind himself.

“Leave him to me. Take the others and–”

Wire’s hand goes bruise-tight on Killer’s arm. Heat hisses, “Killer–”

“Listen to me. Kaido’s forces will follow him here any minute. Keep them off our backs. Buy us time. Whatever this is, Kidd will fight it. I just have to make him listen.”

Two little words stick to Killer’s tongue, almost making it out of his mouth. Captain’s orders. He doesn’t have to say them, though, the tense sigh Wire exhales an answer in and of itself.

“Fine, just– Stay sharp. Let’s go, Heat.”

“Yeah”, Heat says with a final glance Kidd’s way, and they’re gone. Disappearing from Killer’s limited field of vision, and Killer trusts they will keep the crew safe. It’s not like he can turn and check, not with Kidd stalking ever-closer.

Coming for him, not the crew. Just him. A joyless smile stretches Killer’s lips wide. Good.

“Care to explain what game you’re playing, Kidd? We’re here to take you home.”

Kidd snaps at him, “Shut the fuck up”, teeth big and white against the backdrop of black leather Kidd is wearing. His face is bare for the first time in years, his hair slicked back like he couldn’t give any less of a damn how it looks. Killer’s gaze falls on the symbol of the Beast Pirates on the thick belts crossing over his chest and his heart lurches, skips out of rhythm–

“I don’t care who you are. I’ll fucking kill you for wearing that mask.”

Killer stares.

“Who I…? The mask is mine. It’s mine, Kidd, you made it for me. I’m–”

Oh shit, the earth itself shakes from the pulse of magnetism Kidd draws in every last bit of metal with, Killer’s arms threatening to snap out of their sockets as his scythes are pulled in, too. “Don’t you dare”, the words are a growl more than anything. “Don’t you fucking dare say his name”, and the pressure drops to be replaced by brute physical force as Kidd lunges.

Killer doesn’t stand a chance against Kidd, he knows that. There’s his Devil Fruit, his natural strength, his skill with damn-near every weapon he’s collected – ever since he unlocked the Haki to match, Kidd has shrugged off any and all limits imposed on him. Killer knows what Kidd can do, knows his body better than his own, some days, knows every emotion that flashes in that rust-red gaze of his.

And, with Kidd hellbent on ripping him apart, Killer knows he’s but one misstep away from a very violent death.

Countless times they’ve fought yet this is an entirely different beast: The only advantage Killer has is speed, and even that is rendered meaningless in the face of Kidd’s powers turning the metal on his body into anchors, his wrists and neck aching trying to withstand that particular gravity. Time and time again they collide, a spray of sparks and panted breath as Killer stares into the hate-filled eyes of the man he loves and doesn’t back down.

As he tells him, “It’s me, Killer, it’s me, I came back for you”, and Kidd snarls, beyond words.

Something has to give and for a moment there, Killer thinks it might not be him. Kidd is panting, growing pale and covered in sweat. This close, Killer can see the fresh wounds left to scar, dotting his chest with sickening precision, and the mottled bruises blooming on his neck, right over his pulse point.

Whatever they put him through, it’s recent enough for Kidd to look like he’s on the verge of collapse once he’s burned through his rage, and Killer despises himself for drawing hope from that.

Then Kidd stumbles, Killer hesitates – and Kidd nails him in the side, a punch too swift for Killer to block, and the taste of copper spills on Killer’s tongue as he feels his ribs give before he twists. The second fist is inches from connecting when Killer slips his hand out of the metal guard slowing him down and elbows Kidd in the face, stomach turning at the immediate gush of blood that clearly spells broken nose.

They fall apart, Killer holding the scratched-and-bruised mess of his midriff and Kidd groaning with his face tucked into his elbow. Struggling to breathe through the pain, Killer fumbles for his second scythe, throwing it to the side where it lands with a dull thud, unseen. Kidd is staring at him, mouth open and painted crimson.

Then Killer’s fingers hook into the back of his mask and he pulls it off, the world suddenly too-bright, too-loud, overwhelming – it all pales against the fear choking him, smothering any ounce of reason Killer clung to without Kidd there to guide him.

“Kidd, it’s me”, he says, the words small between them, on the brink of vanishing altogether. Well and truly lost, for the first time since they met. “Your partner. Please. I don’t know what to do. Please come back to me.”

And Kidd– He staggers towards him, like he can’t help it. “You’re dead”, he whispers, helplessly hoarse. “You died. You’re dead, Kil.”

Killer’s eyes sting as tears well up; he bites the inside of his cheek until it bleeds. Thinks, oh, and his mind puts together the puzzle pieces even if all he feels is his heart break.

“I’m right here. Right here, Kidd.”

Step by step Kidd’s fists lose their substance, metal falling to the ground in chunks and pieces and loose gears. Kidd asks, “…Killer?”, and it sounds so painfully uncertain, so threadbare and fragile that Killer throws caution to the wind.

Kidd’s knees give the moment Killer reaches for him. He doesn’t manage to catch the fall but it doesn’t matter, the feeling of Kidd’s arm sliding around his neck like breaking the water’s surface, like coming home at long last. His stump is left bare, bandaged and sore-looking, lacking the mechanics that have become Kidd as much any other part of him. Killer holds that shoulder before he does anything else, the tension there beyond unbearable to watch.

“Killer”, Kidd rasps, and Killer kneels so he doesn’t have to strain himself so much. “K-Kil, fuck, I didn’t– I thought–”

Half-realized words turning to heaving gasps, and Killer wraps himself around him as his shirt grows wet where Kidd’s head is tucked against his neck, equal parts blood and tears with how fucked up Kidd’s nose is. Murmurs against his hair, “It’s okay”, rubs a hand up and down the groove of his spine.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m here. We’re all here, Kidd. Not leaving you behind, ever, got it?”

It’s there, with Kidd in his arms, that Killer becomes aware of their surroundings once more: There’s distant cannon fire, and battlecries cut short; the cracking of rifles and ringing of blades being drawn and crossed; bit by bit, the world reshapes itself into the beginnings of a war around them. The first thing Killer sees is a loose circle of backs turned towards them. Dead ahead, the signature woosh of Heat’s breath-turned-fire illuminates the silhouette of each and every member of their crew fighting tooth and nail to uphold the perimeter.

Closest to them, Wire’s trident blurs with motion as he smashes a volley of arrows out of the air, aimed directly at Kidd’s vulnerable back. A glance over his shoulder, and Wire’s eyes widen as they meet Killer’s.

Properly catching his gaze, for the very first time. Killer nods at him, mouths, we gotta get outta here. Wire reads his lips and smiles, unwavering.

Kidd is stirring as well, eyes red-rimmed and weirdly naked without the heavy black around them. He wipes at the blood that hasn’t quite stopped dripping down his chin before he looks up. Stares at Killer like he can’t quite believe he’s there, and then:

“Shit. Fuck, Killer, your mask”, Kidd mumbles urgently, an exhausted motion of his hand pulling closer the scattered remnants of their fight. “Where’s– Ah.”

And something in Killer breaks a little more at the gentleness with which Kidd handles his mask, his fingers unsteady as they wipe dirt and blood off the blue-white stripes before offering it to Killer, those red eyes tender with unspoken emotion.

Kidd doesn’t do apologies, mostly because there aren’t many actions he deems truly reprehensible, but... If apologies were Kidd’s thing this would be it.

Killer exhales a soft breath and presses a kiss to the line between Kidd’s shaved brows. “C’mon”, he says, and he hides his face before hoisting Kidd up to his feet, a breath shuddering out of him as his ribs shift in his chest. Kidd’s hand brushes over the furrows he left on Killer’s skin, frown deepening yet he doesn’t speak.

Piece by piece, they put themselves back together until they’re Eustass ‘Captain’ Kidd and Massacre Soldier Killer once more. There is hell to pay, a war to win and an Emperor to kill – when Kidd steps forward to rejoin their crew, he doesn’t waver and neither does Killer, following close behind.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #443

“it’s not a life sentence, but a death dream for you”

When was the last time you were in the hospital? Me personally, uhhh sometime in 2017? Why were you there? I had a cyst removal surgery. Do you like Cheez-Its or Cheese Nips better? Cheez-Its. Have you worn headphones at all today? Yeah, I pretty much always do because YouTube is always open and on a video. When was the last time you had blood drawn? A few months ago or something? I'll be getting some drawn shortly though for genetic testing; due to my mom having some dysfunctional cancer prevention gene, all her children are getting tests to see if we inherited it. The last time you got blood drawn, what was the reason? I want to say I was tested for anemia most recently. What color eyes does/did your father have? Brown. What do you daydream most about? Things I wish I didn't daydream about. What is your relation to the last child you spoke to? They're my niece and nephew. Do you believe the Holocaust happened? No fucking shit? Do you prefer zebra stripes, tiger stripes, or leopard spots? Tiger stripes, ig. When did you last see a dog? At my nephew's b-day party a couple weeks ago. Nicole brought her dog Zeke over. Have you ever been in the mountains when the moon and stars were up? No, but omg I wish!!!!!!!!!! Do you know anyone from Canada? Yep. Has a cat ever licked you? Yeah. Roman especially loves to give kisses. Where would you most like to go in your state, etc. that you haven’t been? The Wizard of Oz park, probs. Are you scared to look at your own organs on x-ray or ultrasound? No, that shit's rad. o: Have you ever walked on a frozen lake/river? No, that sketches me out. I'd be afraid of the ice breaking and me falling in. Have you ever seen a volcano? No. Have you ever met an Alaskan? Met in-person, no. But I do have an online friend who's from Alaska. Or may still live there? Idk. Have you ever mowed the lawn (even a little bit)? No. Have any unpleasant public transit stories to tell? Nah. Do you know any German words? Seeing as I took four semesters of the language in high school, I know a good deal. However, my skill has definitely atrophied with time and lack of application. Do you have a passport? No. Are your teeth straight? I mean, mostly. I had braces for too long, but I didn't wear my retainer, so they've moved back some. Would you mind dating someone significantly shorter than you? Yeah, sure. I've never understood why height is an issue for some people. Can you quote the movie Mean Girls? No. I personally never got the craze. Have you ever swam in the Atlantic Ocean? I have. The Pacific? No. Can you make yourself cry? No. Have you ever held a starfish? Not a live one. What would you do if you found out your ex was pregnant/fathered a child? Faint or vomit. Wail. All three. Are you very close to your siblings? No. :/ Can you do CPR? No. Favorite sport to watch in the summer Olympics? I don't care. Ever flushed a fish? Yes. Ever been paid for sex or a sexual favor? No. I wouldn't agree to that. Last friend you talked to online? Sara. Has anyone ever said you looked like a celebrity? No. What is the best ice cream flavor? Vanilla. You have so many topping options. What’s your favorite thing to do outside? Photograph nature, especially wild animals. What would you spend $1,000 on? A big, really pro tattoo. What was the best (non-romantic) night you’ve had? Hm. I don't know. Who did you last lay in a bed/couch/recliner with? Mom and I sat together on the couch some time ago. Do you keep a planner? No. What are you craving right now? I've got a seriously random craving for shell pasta with a nice, meaty tomato sauce. Do you want kids anytime soon? DEFINITELY not soon, but also never. Has anyone ever drunk called/texted you? No. Have you ever slept in the same bed with the last person you kissed? Yeah. What’s the best feeling in the world? Knowing you're in love and really feeling it. What’s something you really want right now, be honest. There's a lot of things. Who in your family do you act like the most? I don't know, really. Who has made the biggest sacrifice for you? My mom, 100%. Do you believe that your first true love can be your only love in life? Of course not. Have you ever kissed under water? Yes. Is there that one guy that you’ll always have feelings for no matter what? Suuuure is. Wish it wasn't like that, but I don't see it ever changing, to be real... Are you 100% over the last person you kissed? 100%? No, I can't say I am entirely. Have your parents ever caught you kissing a guy? "Caught me?" How old is this question meant for? Yes, they've seen me kiss a guy before. If you mean like, seriously kiss-kissing, no. Which one of your exes hates you the most? Probably Jason. Are you named after anyone? No. Well, my middle name has been passed down, but "Brittany" wasn't from anybody else in specific. What reminds you the most of your last relationship? The song "The Only Exception" by Paramore. Have you ever rejected someone but they still wouldn’t give up on you? In elementary school, yes. When growing up, did your family always eat at the dinner table together? Usually, yes, at least when growing up. Sometimes we'd use little tables to eat in the living room though while watching TV. What is the greatest source of happiness in your life? My mom, best friend, and pets. What was the last charity/cause you donated to? I'm unsure, actually. Who was the last person you got a handwritten letter from? Sara! :') Did your parents read bedtime stories to you when you were little? Mom did. Have any of your worst fears ever come true? Yes. The greatest fear I've ever had was losing Jason, and that happened. Is anyone in your family divorced? My parents, for one. My older half-sister has also be divorced because her ex is an absolute piece of manipulative horse shit. Has anyone in your family gotten pregnant as a teenager? I think my mom? No, maybe not... Idk. I ain't doing the math. What’s your greatest talent? If you want a serious answer and not something self-depracating, I suppose writing. Would you ever want to get a master’s degree? It'd be cool, but I've never *actually* wanted to pursue that. Have you ever worn revealing clothing in order to get attention? No. Have you ever been falsely accused of being racist? I've never been accused of being racist, because I'm not. To you, is sex just about physical pleasure, or do you see it as an expression of love and commitment? Absolutely the latter. I could never engage in sex without deep emotional commitment. How many times have you been drunk in the past 6 months? Zero. What’s your favorite French food? I have no idea. What’s the most elaborate recipe you know how to cook? Nothing. Which rooms of your house have doors that lead outside? The living room and kitchen. Best purchase you ever made? My snake. :') Is there anybody you think is hot over the age of 40? I haven't seen him a long time, but boy did I have a thing for James Hetfield in high school. There are defs others, but no one else immediately comes to mind. Have you ever been caught sneaking out? No, because I've never tried to. How many Facebooks have you had? Just the one I still use. Have you ever been punched in the face? No. When was the last time you talked to the first person you kissed? The beginning of February, 2017. What is the latest you have ever slept in? Past 5. Do you have to watch yourself in the mirror while you brush your teeth? No. Do you text when you drive? Fuck no. You couldn't pay me to. What movie do you really want to see that’s out? I don't even know what movies are out right now. Did America really put a man on the moon? Eventually, yes. Call me crazy, but I do believe the supposed first one was faked, though, to "beat" Russia in the space race. Do some research and it's pretty shocking. Would you like to date someone a lot purer than you? Idc. Do you turn your phone off at night when you go to sleep? No, but I turn the brightness down for if I wake up in the middle of the night and want to check the time. Have you slept in a bed with the last person you kissed? Yeah. Has anyone ever told you that they loved you, and you didn’t say it back? Yes. Has anyone ever played a prank on you? What happened? I don't believe so. Do you like tattoos and piercings? Helllll yes. :') What are you really into? Animals, art, some weird Korean guy on the Internet... Do your parents like your best friends? Yes. Have you ever taken a nap with a member of the opposite sex? Yeah. Do you have weak upper body strength? Yes. What color was the last cup you drank from? It's just clear glass. How old is your oldest sibling? I actually don't know her exact age. 30-something. What was the last thing you ate that had nuts in it? A Nature Valley cashew bar I had earlier today. How many pieces did the last puzzle you completed have? I have no idea. Who did you last shake hands with? uhhhhhhhh Has anybody asked you out on a date recently? Nah. When was the last time somebody asked you to be their girlfriend? When Girt asked me out a few years ago. Name something you’re picky about: Food. Who did you last ask for help? My mom. Do you like corn? Yeah. If you were offered to smoke some weed right now, would you accept? Right now I honestly probably would, believe it or not. Honestly, who is the last person to tell you that they love you? My mum. Have you ever made out for more than a half hour straight? Yeah. How do you earn money? The only occasions where I ever and very rarely earn money is if someone (non-family, of course) pays me to take pictures for them. Where were you raised? All you need to know is a crappy town in eastern NC. Are your ears gauged? No, but I want the first holes in my earlobes to be, but only with very small gauges. I just can't figure out how to do it myself, at least with the gauges I have. I think I'm missing something. Explain what triggered your last kiss? We were saying goodbye. Could you go a month without talking to your best friend? I mean I could, but it'd seriously fucking suck. Have you ever made out in a park? No, because I don't do that in public. What are you listening to? "Paint You With My Love" by Marilyn Manson. I wasn't big on the album when it came out, but this is one of the songs that's aight to me. Last thing you said out loud? I gave Venus a little wave and said "hey babe" or something like that like I do sometimes when she's slithering around and looks out towards me. Are you sad? Always at least a little bit. I have been kinda down this evening. Where is your dad? I would hope at home. He's probably watching TV, or maybe in bed.

[emmies-archives]

Sweaters

Todoroki Shoto X Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: You go for a bath in a river at the forest training camp, Mineta pervs on you stealing your clothes. Todoroki ends up saving you, giving you clothes to wear. Which happened to be his, it leads him to be real flirty.

Word Count: 2.1k

 The first night at the forest training camp did not offer you a very warm welcome, literally. The air had an odd chill to it, making your bones ache slightly. You paid almost no attention to it though, preferring to focus on the views around you. They were breathtaking, you rarely ever were able to see the stars clearly since you were admitted into UA. Every summer break, you and your parents always took a camping trip.

You used to be able to sit by the edge of the lake for hours doing literally anything, sometimes you would read an entire book without realizing it, most of the time you’d bring a sketchbook and graphite trying to capture the wondrous scene in front of you. There was something incredibly calming about watching the small ripples from whatever wildlife ventured on the water clash with each other. The river at the camp had the same effect on you as the lake from your memories.

Today's events exhausted you to your core, it wasn’t just the fight through the forest to get to the camp that took everything out of you. There were also all your classmates’ different energies bouncing off of each other. Even though you were friendly with every person in your class, dealing with all of them at once for a long amount of time was so tiring. You treasure your alone time so you snuck away before everyone went to the hot springs, hoping no one would follow. After a while just admiring the way the trees moved in the wind you started towards the river.

You hadn’t really had a chance to rest after fighting your way through the forest. You started to undress, setting your clothes neatly in a pile next to a tree. As you stepped into the water you were surprised to feel that it was actually quite warm, in contrast to the cold air it was amazing. You realized it was probably coming from the hot springs. You sunk down until the water covered your chest, letting out a sigh. You were in bliss.

It didn’t last long however as you heard a squeal. You turned around towards the direction of the noise, thinking it was one of the girls from your class. Oh, how you wished it was one of the girls from your class. Your heart dropped straight to the bottom of your feet once you saw who it was. The pervy purple goblin of class 1a stood at the edge of the trees staring straight at you, seconds away from his soul spewing from his nose. Both of you stood frozen for a moment eyes locked until you noticed how Mineta was slowly inching towards your clothes.

“Don’t. You. Dare.” You grunted him through gritted teeth. On the inside you were terrified, if he took your clothes it would be a disaster. It would probably even be better if he were to just sneak a peek at your naked body. Mineta was absolutely sweating from head to toe so bad his balls for hair were literally dripping off. His entire body was trembling from either excitement or in fear of your deadly gaze on him. He didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was shifting towards your only ticket to safety. As he got closer, his eyes started to rapidly shift from you and your clothes. It was almost too fast for you to see, throwing one last glance at you he scooped your clothes up and ran at the speed of light back to the camp. “MINETA! WHEN I FIND YOU, I SWEAR TO GOD YOU’RE DEAD!”

You truly could not believe what had just happened. You stood in shock staring at the spot Mineta just occupied. “What the actual fuck just happened.” You muttered to yourself. What were you going to do, you were absolutely stuck. You only had a handful of options. You could stay in the water waiting for someone to somehow wander across you and help, you were sure Mineta only found you due to his ever-running boob radar. From his actions, you weren’t sure if his quirk was the weird little purple balls on his head, or the ability to sniff out the female gender in utter perfection.

You could walk back to camp, but that would mean the utter embarrassment of every single student and teacher seeing you in all of your naked glory. There was only one plausible option, use part of your quirk. It was very similar to Mandalay’s quirk, except for being able to spread information to many people at once, you could only send your voice to one person at once, if you weren’t familiar with someone’s energy it was quite hard in figuring out who they were. This made you more susceptible to energies, you could even detect the smallest change in energy due to it.

Seeing this as your only option, you took a deep breath and started to send your energy out trying to find other people. You were still very tired from the day and shocked from Mineta, you were having a very hard time trying to feel out whose energies were who. You were starting to become very cold, the water was cooling down as the night’s air grew colder. You decided on an energy to reach out too, every persons’ energies were almost flowing as one and you couldn’t figure out who they were separate. You just desperately hoped it was someone that would be helpful, anyone but Mineta really.

Due to your exhaustion, you could just barely send a thought out. You sent the path to your location with a single sentence. “Please, I need your help.” In your tired state, you failed to notice that whoever received your thought would most likely think you were being attacked. You’ve contacted almost every single person in your class by sending your thoughts to them before, so no matter who you reached out to they’d be at least a bit familiar with it.

At least ten minutes went by and you were starting to get worried, maybe your quirk didn’t reach anyone. The water around you now was practically ice and you were desperately hoping for someone to come save you. You really really didn’t want to walk back to came stark naked, in front of everyone and give Mineta the victory. You were just about to give in when rustling sound from the path you took, someone ran from the tree line and in the dim starlight you could just barely make out who it was.

“L/n?!” It was Todoroki. Of course, it was Todoroki. Of all the ways this situation could get worse it had to be Todoroki who had received your message. Its as though fate had planned this whole night just to embarrass you.

You so desperately wanted to pretend you weren’t there, but he clearly knew you were. “I’m over here…” You mumbled just loud enough so he could hear you.

“Are you alright? Why are you in the water?” He started to walk closer to you, and you sunk deeper into the water, your cheeks burning. “Hold on I can’t see anything.” Before you could say anything, he ignited a flame in the palm of his hand emitting enough light for him to see clearly. It took a moment for it to register in his brain why you were in the water and a slight tinge of pink dusted his cheeks once he noticed you were not clothed.

“I’m sorry if I made you panic!” You cried out, trying to get his attention off of you being nude. “I’m just so tired from today that I couldn’t think clearly…” You trailed off, you were shivering now the water felt like it could freeze you.

“What happened?” He walked closer to the water’s edge keeping his gaze on anything but you.

“That little twerp Mineta!” You squealed, “I just came out here for some peace and quiet, and that hobbit stole my clothes! He didn’t even hesitate either!” You threw your hands up in the air standing just enough that your chest was exposed above the water, at the exact moment Todoroki turned to look at you again. Both of your eyes widened and you squeaked covering your chest. Todoroki just muttered a soft ‘oh’, you saw the flame in his hand jump a little higher and brighter for just a moment. The heat probably matched the burn that covered your features.  The tension was so thick you could probably wrap it around you as cover. You mustered enough courage to talk to him again, making sure that nothing was on display.

“Do you have anything I could put on? I hate to bother you but I’d really like to get out of this water I’m almost an ice cube.” He turned again making sure you were covered before he looked at you. He just blinked at you. “Please, Todoroki.”

Without a word he took off the sweater he wore bringing it close to the water’s edge and set it down. You saw that he wore a tight blue tank under it. You thanked the stars, knowing if he were to be shirtless you probably wouldn’t be able to leave the water. He turned around before you could get the chance to move. The only sound that was heard was the water splashing as you made your way ashore. You took the sweater in your hands admiring the warmth it held and slowly put it on. Thankfully, you were a good amount shorter, and smaller than the boy so it fell all the way past your backside, covering you completely. He was still turned away from you, so you placed a hand on his arm catching his attention.

“Thank you, and again I am truly sorry if I worried you. My message wasn’t too clear.” You smiled up at him, still shivering slightly from the cool water.

“It’s not a problem, I’m glad I could help you.” He smiled back at you until he noticed how the sweater clung to your wet form. He blushed again and shifted his gaze, you didn’t even notice what was going on due to the exhaustion you felt. “We should start heading back to camp. I’ll retrieve your clothing from Mineta. Don’t worry.”

As the two of you started to walk back to the others, you found yourself still unable to retain any warmth. Unable to think clearly at all, you laced your hand in Todoroki’s left seeking warmth. His arm tensed a bit, but when he saw your teeth chattering and relaxed and sent a pulse of heat through his hand to yours. You sighed at the warmth and leaned into him a bit. “You know, I couldn’t tell who I had sent the message to earlier. Everyone’s energies were flowing together, but I’m really glad it was you Todoroki.”

He glanced at you and a small smile dawned on his features at your confession, “I’m glad it was me too, L/n. I don’t think I would’ve liked knowing any other guy would have seen you like that.”

Your cheeks burned at his words and you laughed nervously. “Oh, and I’m sorry about your sweater getting wet, I hope that I don’t ruin it. That’d be a shame, it really is a nice sweater. It looked really good on you. Wait. Nope. Ignore I said that.” You clasped your hand on your mouth to stop your tired rambling.

“No, its alright.” He spoke squeezing your hand a bit. “You look really cute in that sweater, wet or not.” You smiled and leaned into him further, as he took his hand out of your grip and wrapped his arm around your shoulder instead. The two of you finally entered the camp and you let out a sigh of relief. Before you could head to the girl’s tent, Todoroki leaned in close, his mouth right by your ear his voice just barely above a whisper. “Although you look amazing right now, I think I prefer you without it on.” With that, he placed his hand on your side and a kiss on the corner of your lips, turned and walked away, leaving you a blushing mess. You didn’t know if you were going to kill Mineta tomorrow or shower him in kisses.

[mshermia]

Are We Out Of The Woods Yet?

Whumptober Prompt No. 12 - I think I’ve broken something Broken Down | Broken Bones | Broken Trust

AO3 Link

###

“There are so many reasons why online classes are better than going to school.”

Peter shook his head. “And there are plenty of reasons why learning in school with other students is preferable. How it helps retain the material better than—”

Morgan groaned without even looking at him, her nose in the air, eyes on the leafy trees above them. “You can learn the same things at home, only then you could have dinner at night with us instead of in your stinky room in Boston.”

“Hey,” he craned his neck to see where she went, then walked after her. “My room doesn’t stink.”

“It’s a boy’s room.” She said it like that alone was a valid argument, when it couldn’t be further from the truth. In fact, the girl’s dorms he had been in—

He stopped himself. Not the time and place.

“Or you could go visit May!”

Peter had his hands in his pockets, trying to keep up with her. “Right.”

“You should!” She turned towards him and pointed her phone at him. “You should come with me and mom. She’s taking me next time she flies out to HQ.”

That startled Peter. “She is?”

“Yeah, in like two weeks or so. You should come, Pete! It’d be so much fun.”

Peter pulled a grimace, even if her excitement was infectious. He hadn’t been in LA since before the semester had started and he did miss May, but he’d also been looking into a weekend or two at Yale, wondering, hoping, that things with MJ—

“So, what do you think?”

He forced his mind back to the present. “I think you shouldn’t run off that far, Morg.”

She cocked her head at him, then blinked and made her eyes roll up high towards the treetops. A performance that was only second to the master, her dad.

“You sound like Tony,” she groaned.

Peter pulled a face. “Don’t call your dad by his first name. That’s just weird.”

Her eyes were scanning the trees, hoping to pick up the last couple of tree species that she needed to catalog for her biology project. “You call him Tony.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Well, what’s the difference?”

Peter screwed up his face at the question. “That he’s not actually my dad?”

“Oh please…”

She vanished behind some undergrowth and for a moment Peter’s Spider senses tingled and his heart jumped into his throat. That olive green jacket she was wearing didn’t help her stick out either. Sure, he had the nano-housing units secured on his forearms, but those were only the last resort. The very last resort. The gig would be up if he popped up as Spider-Man from behind a tree and Morgan, she couldn’t know. Not yet, they had agreed. Hurried steps through the trees had him almost fall over a large root until he found her, crouching down on the ground. Her phone still in hand, she took a picture of a random weed.

“What are you doing? I thought we were looking for trees.”

“We’re looking for biodiversity and this is rare basil-mountain mint, which will likely win me this thing.”

Peter blew out a long breath, telling his pulse to calm the fuck down. He just hated not having her in his sight. “Just don’t wander off like that.”

“I didn’t wander off. I just walked.” Morgan stood up, wiping the dark forest soil off her knees. “Plus, don’t change the subject.”

“What subject?”

“Why it’s okay for you to call daddy Tony and not for me?” She didn’t even look at him, eyes on her phone screen. “Is that a weird boy thing?”

“No, it’s…” Peter shook his head. “It’s a your his daughter and I’m the weird dude that comes around to eat out his fridge thing.”

Morgan’s eyebrows were pulled up not unlike Pepper would when she was arguing with Tony. “Harley calls him dad…”

“Not to his face.”

“Ya-ha!”

“Nu-uh!” Peter turned his back, not interested in discussing that in the slightest. Harley, well, was Harley. It wasn’t the same. He had years to build that bond with Tony, when Peter had had, well, fewer years.

“I’m 8, not an idiot, you know.”

“I don’t know, you’re giving a great impression of one…” He had said it louder than he meant to and he hadn’t really meant to say it at all.

Morgan stood up straight like he had taken an actual shot at her. Her lips were pressed into a tight line and she swung around, explicitly away from him, and stalked in the opposite direction.

“Morg…” He blew out a long breath that had his overly long hair blow across his forehead. “Come on, you know I didn’t mean that.”

She turned on her heel, eyes sparkling - which he hoped was with annoyance, anger even, and not with tears - and gave him the finger. Two of them, actually.

He was a horrible influence on her. Well, it was him or Harley. Probably Harley.

Still, he shouldn’t have said that. She was struggling as it was, being called names and such at school, though Tony refused to get her some tutors instead. Went on and on about the social skills he never had the chance to develop in a regular school environment. Peter had to roll his eyes as his father’s words echoed in his own head.

Wait… His eyes widened and he physically shook that train of thought from his mind. That girl was putting ideas in his head that he didn’t need in there at all.

“Dude, the car is in the other direction…” he called after her.

Morgan still walked away from him, only tilted her head all the way back, and screamed towards the sky. “I STILL NEED TO FIND TWO MORE TREES, ASSFACE!”

He groaned, shrugging his arms in surrender as he started to follow her. “I thought that weed thingy will get you the win.”

She didn’t even turn, just held up the same two fingers once again as she stalked further away from him.

“Change that attitude or I’ll have to bring it up in your dad’s exit interview when we get back.”

Not that he actually would.

“Don’t you mean your dad, ASSFACE?!”

Or maybe he would bring it up…

But like a loyal puppy dog, he followed right behind her, and like a loyal puppy dog, he couldn’t help but hold his nose into the wind and…

He sighed under his breath, teeth gritted as he scanned the endless forest around them. He had this feeling and that feeling never meant something cheerful. They were in a remote part of the national park. Very remote. Odds were, he might just be sensing wildlife that could get to them. Boars or… or something bigger maybe?

“Can we just… hey… Morg…” He cursed as he followed along after her. “Morgan!”

“What?!” She had stopped and turned, both her hands balled into fists.

“Can we just walked back towards the car at least?” He pointed behind himself. “I don’t want to get lost in the middle of the damn woods.”

He wouldn’t get lost. He knew where they were, where the car was. That it would take them an hour and 10 minutes to get back to it. What he didn’t like was that girl stalking deeper and deeper into the forest. He shuddered with a sudden wave of goosebumps at the thought. No, they really had to leave.

“Let’s just… let’s just head back. We can take a bit of a curve.” He shot a glance over his shoulder, but it was just the wind ruffling the leaves above them. “I’m sure we’ll find your trees on the way back.”

“But I don’t want to turn around yet!” She was properly mad, foot-stomping and everything.

“Hey!” Peter pulled his shoulders back, his head held high, one finger pointing at her like Tony would do to him. “When I say we go back, we go back. This is not a democratic decision.”

Again, she threw her head back and groaned, but slowly trotted towards him. She had just moved past him as his ears pick up how she quietly muttered “You suck and I hate you!” under her breath.

Peter bit his lip, pretending like he didn’t have any enhanced hearing whatsoever as he followed along behind her. He tried to remind himself that Morgan was just a kid and how kids sometimes say things they didn’t mean because he knew she didn’t really mean that.

His eyes on the ground, head bowed low, trying his best not to fall or have his eyes scratched out by any of the low hanging branches. This wasn’t an environment that he excelled in so maybe that was where that queasy feeling in his stomach came from.

“How’s it going, Morg? Any luck with the rest of your—” He had looked to his left, then to his right, but he couldn’t see her anymore. “Morgan?” He hurried a few steps ahead, craning his neck but there was no sign of her. She must have rushed ahead. Must have stormed of that sulky, little—

“Morgan!” He cursed when a branch hit him in the face, leaving a stinging cut just above his eye. “Dude, seriously, this is not funny any—” His stomach fell into a deep hole as to his right, Morgan’s voice echoed only faintly through the forest, screaming his name.

He hadn’t run this fast ever. Never before, tripping over branches and roots as he went. He only just saw her brown hair disappear through the door of what appeared to be a little hunting cabin, worn down enough to seem deserted. It was just right there mid-among the trees. His feet carried him closer and closer until he reached the edge of a little meadow right in front of the small house. There was a guy next to the door, standing guard or something, openly showing off the handgun he was holding though it wasn’t pointed at Peter. Not yet.

“Nothing to see here,” he called across the distance. “Move along.”

He had stopped, about 50 feet away from the front door, his breathing was fast and shaky, not so much from the run, moreso from his nerves. “How about you get my sister back out here and I’ll think about it.”

“Go’ the wrong house, boy.” The man pointed the gun in the direction that led back towards the main road. “No girl here. Pro'ably went ahead. Waiting at you car.”

“Get her out here right now,” Peter hissed through gritted teeth.

“Nobody here, move along.”

The guy could play all old-man-in-the-woods he wanted, his eyes were sharp and Peter could see it. Without his senses, he might have never heard Morgan cry out earlier. He might not have seen well enough to spot her being dragged through the door frame, but he was still Spider-Man.

“I’ll give you a last try. One more chance to let my sister go or—”

Peter ducked and turned, sought shelter behind the closest tree as he heard the shots that were fired in his direction. It hadn’t been the old fool whose hands Peter had been watching like a hawk. No, there was someone else. Two guns that were shot at him simultaneously.

Not that it mattered. It didn’t matter how closely he had thought he was watching, not to his arm that was painfully burning. Deep breaths. In and out.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he cursed under his breath.

“You’re not welcome here, boy,” the guy at the door hollered in his direction. “Fuck off!”

The door creaked as it was pulled open and then slammed shut with a bang. He cursed himself. Morgan was counting on him. What the fuck was he doing? One quick look determined what he knew to be true. He was dripping blood onto the forest floor. Quickly, he pulled his sweatshirt off and ripped a string of fabric off it, then did his best to one-handedly tie it around his arm.

He was still hiding among the trees but he had no doubt that whoever had shot at him was still up there.

“Fucking bastards.” He didn’t even think about it, just tapped the nano-housing unit on his lower arm and the Iron Spider engulfed him within seconds. It didn’t matter now, his identity wasn’t worth shit as long as Morgan was in danger.

“Peter, I’ve registered severe trauma to your left arm. Calculating closest medical—”

“Karen, stop. It doesn’t matter. It’s just a graze. I need to get into that house over there. Read out heat signatures. Anything you can give me. Morgan’s in there. We need to get her out.”

“Heat sensors are activated. I record six individual signatures within the parameter of the house, one of them Morgan.”

Fuck. Five of them. Peter closed his eyes, concentrated on his pulse, his senses. He was fine. He’d done this a thousand times. Something like this.

“There is no reception but satellite connectivity is now active to send a beacon out to Mr. Stark and the rest of the Avengers.”

He was breathing hard. “Just.. just hold off on that Karen. It’s… it’s fine. I.. I got this. I got this.” It wasn’t… wasn’t that bad. He couldn’t have the team come out for some dudes in the woods. Mr. Stark… Tony would murder him in cold blood for this. It… this wasn’t all that bad. He would just… just get her out and… and then they could tell him together and they would be safe and all of this wouldn’t even be such a big deal.

“Alright, Karen. Here goes nothing.”

As soon as he came out of the trees, there were more shots fired right at him. None of that phased him though. The Iron Spider was bulletproof. Karen made out both shooters, one of them hiding behind the back wall of the building, the other one had crept up onto the roof. His webs hit the one on the rooftop first, immobilizing him completely. The other guy had bolted as soon as he’d seen the suit.

From there on out, the things happening around him were a blur. A weird mixture of slow motion and an out-of-body experience where nothing mattered, nothing except Morgan. It didn’t even matter that this wasn’t just a random cabin in the woods. Maybe it was the fumes from the meth lab they were running in that room that were messing with his mind. Maybe he was losing more blood than he had realized.

None of it mattered, not when Morgan was kneeling on the floor, her eyes red as she cried, cried out for help, for her dad and for Spider-Man. He was winning this. He had to. And for the longest time that he was in that cabin, he thought he really was going to win this. It wasn’t until he stood right in front of Morgan, the man behind her pressing a gun against her neck while she was ringing for air, that he realized the flaw in his plan.

He would never risk her. He… he couldn’t risk Morgan.

Peter was frozen, couldn’t do a single thing, paralyzed by fear. What if he would be too slow? What if they shot her before his webs could bind them? He wouldn’t be able to live with himself. It wasn’t until Morgan had started whispering his name over and over again that he realized he had let the suit retreat far enough to reveal his head at some point. That was right, they had made him do it. Said they’d kill her if he didn’t. He couldn’t risk that. Couldn’t risk his sister.

It was the old guy, the one that had been at the door who was pointing his gun right at Peter’s head now, no nanites to protect him from the impact if the man were to fire. They wanted money. Of course, they did. Not like Peter had a lot of that. Some, sure. They told him to go and get as much as he could carry and maybe, if it was enough, maybe they would let Morgan go.

“I’m… I’m not leaving her here…” His voice was cracking just like his nerves. “I’m not—”

“You’ll leave her here, either breathing or not,” the guy behind Morgan hissed as he pressed the barrel of the gun even firmed against her skin. “Your choice. Try anything, she’s dead.”

His vision was swimming, eyes burning. He had been such a fool. He should have never let her leave his sight, should have grabbed her and bolted the moment his senses had started to pick up the smallest thing. He should have called Mr. Stark. He should have…

“She’s just a child. Just… let her go and… and you’ll keep me.”

The old guy snickered next to Peter. “Who’d pay a dime for you, huh?”

Then everything changed. A cold shiver ran down his spine. Dread and… and hope. The men couldn’t hear him but Peter did. He would know those thrusters anywhere. Just as he was about to call out to Morgan, tell her to keep her eyes closed, the old man’s other hand grabbed him, tightening around his throat. He pushed Peter further away from her, back against the wall right next to the door and Peter… he didn’t do anything. He just let it happened, let the old bastard choke him for if he didn’t, they might hurt her. If he fought, they might kill her and this was almost over.

His knees hit the floor from one moment to the next, as the old man crumbled to the ground next to him. The same was true for the man behind Morgan. Peter was just about to crawl to her, to shield her from… he didn’t know what, but Iron Man blasted in through the door next to him faster than Peter could get up.

The armor around Tony retreated and he almost fell to the floor, crouching down next to Morgan. “I’m here, baby. It’s okay.” He pulled her close, pressed her head against his chest so she didn’t see, didn’t have to look at the mess around them. “It’ll be okay. Don’t worry, baby. It’ll all be just fine.”

He gathered her in his arms and carried her, heading for the door, his armor following behind him.

“You’ll find your way back?”

Peter was still on the floor, his pulse still hammering in his ears. “Yes… yes, Sir.”

He didn’t even look at Peter as he left and it was the worst feeling in the world.

###

Part II is up, Enjoy!

###

This is my first try at a prompt fill and I feel like those are usually supposed to be One-Shots, right? Well, this won’t be. But I think one is also supposed to start on October 1st and do them in the right order… Well, what can I say other than, it is what it is ;)

The Fix-it is based on my Endgame Fix-it “Like You’d Know How It Works“. I’ll likely use this story as the basis for more than one of the Whumptober prompt fills.

[itzasunflower]

“The Three Stages of a Party.” (part three)

-> no warnings, just angst and fluff.

part one,, part two,, part three

The Last Stage; The After-Party and The Truths Untold.

The next morning, you woke up with a heavy headache. The sun was blinding your vision and warming your bare legs. Your body felt so uncomfortable as you still were in your tight dress from last night. Just by this sense of touch, you could remember to yourself that miserable party of that night, and to add more water to your already-full-cup, your miserable drunk self. Shame, you just felt ashamed.

You looked at the ceiling a few seconds, and started to itch your puffy eyes while stretching your lazy body. Suddenly, your legs hit something, or someone to be exact. Haechan? What the fuck, he was shirtless. This boy. If only you had not thrown up on him... that was embarrassing. He was sitting on the ground, his back against the opposite side of the couch, with his head lowered. Ouch, his neck might hurt. You did not want to wake him up. Hence, you sat down beside him, and placed his head on your shoulder. You knew that you should have not done this: Haechan had a girlfriend now, and this thought made you want to keep your distance far from him but you could not retain yourself from taking care of your lover. Hearing the birds singing, you concluded that it was too early to begin the day and put your head on his. You were so eager to put his hand in yours, caress it with your thumb, and whisper him how much you loved him. He was so close yet so far, the world felt so heavy all of a sudden. You sighed and went back to sleep quite easily as you wanted to forget faster how deeply heartbroken you were and how tired you were from the early morning headache.

After what seemed like an hour for you, a voice made you flinch off of your sleep.

“Okay baby, I’ll be home in the afternoon.” Haechan murmured with his husky voice of the morning. You did not want to wake up to him calling another girl baby though. Was their relationship even serious? Whatsoever, you felt like you could never have him, as usual. You were used to this empty feeling, but now it was different, it was a total reality. Your head was on Haechan’s shoulder, and you just wished you could stay like this all day long. His voice, his perfume, his soft skin, you were going to miss it, damn. It hurt how much you wanted to be his, and how much you wanted to be whoever this girl might be. She was lucky to have such a mature, handsome and goofy man as her boyfriend.

“Hi dickhead.” you mouthed as you stood up, and gave him a little awkward smile while he was still on call with his girlfriend. It hurt so much, seeing him talking to his lover, who was obviously not you. You pointed out to your outfit to tell him that you were going to change. You picked two extra large t-shirts from your closet, one for you, and the other one for the shirtless Haechan: buying men’s t-shirt is a big yes. You put the t-shirt on and left your legs naked. Then, you went to take off your ugly make-up from yesterday, wash your face and brush your teeth to look a little less miserable. After that, you went back to see Haechan who was drinking water in the kitchen.

“There, put a t-shirt on sir.” you said coldly, and threw it to him. “Whatever I said yesterday.. it wasn’t totally false though.” You hesitated a second before saying out loud the last part of your sentence, but this situation needed to stop: he deserved to know the truth, and you needed to let go of this to move on peacefully. You bravely looked at him straight in the eye. “Look, I’ve been in love with you for the past few years, but I just can’t handle it anymore. Now that you have a girlfriend.. I’m super happy for you yet I feel so miserable for myself.” you gulped at your own words, how embarrassing. You felt even more miserable when he just walked past you without saying anything. His face was expressionless, and unreadable. An electric shock crossed your body. Your tears filled your eyes, but you just avoided them, closing your eyes as tightly as you could. Were you two over from this moment on? You turned your back to see him wearing your t-shirt and putting on his shoes. He was going to be gone forever, and you could not believe it was going to end like this. “So that’s how it ends? You don’t have the balls to tell me anything? Why didn’t you tell me you had a girlfriend? You made my hopes up, and now you’re going to leave like a fucker? Bullshit!”

“Shut the fuck up!” he yelled, looking at you with his frowned eyebrows. “Were you that blind to see that I felt the same all these years?! Everytime I showed you how much I cared about you, you’ve always taken it for granted. And it hurt me too! Now that I have a girlfriend, you’re complaining? I just need someone who sees the efforts I make for them. How many times I wanted to take you on dates, but yeah, I didn’t have the balls. So what now?! I’m still in love with you, but you’ve waited for me to have a girlfriend to confess?” These words escaped his mouth all at once, as he made some steps towards you. He looked down at you, and it made you panicked. His confession turned your brain off, you could not even think straight, neither your eyes knew what to look at. It felt awkward not to be able to say anything. You were hard-headed, so you were usually always talking back to people, you loved to have the last word. Haechan was the only one to put you right in your place, and that was one of the reasons you loved him: he was brave enough to face you when you were wrong. However, although you were hardheaded, you were really softhearted, you just did not show it often. You could tell Haechan was confused not to see you responding back to him. “Talk to me, we have things to talk about.”

“Why having a girlfriend then? Just, why?” you finally looked up at him, with a tear falling on your cheek. Oh, fuck, not tears. “You didn’t have to move on like this, and to keep on making my hopes up. It’s totally unnecessary and mean.” you erased quickly your tear and waited for his answer. He confessed to you, yet you needed more explanation. How could someone move on so easily?

“I didn’t know my feelings were mutual. And in order not to hurt myself more, I wanted to forget you while dating another girl. I know what I’m doing is bad, but I couldn’t help myself.” he lowered his head, feeling ashamed of his actions. It was the worst solution, and he had chosen it anyway. You felt a bit disappointed, but what could you do? This is humans’ wrongs. You sighed in response.

And at this exact moment, you craved to hold his hand, which was so easy of access, to comfort him. You gave up, and just did it anyway. Your eyes were fixing on your fingers intertwining his for the very first time, and your heart softened. Oh, you hated this side of you though. But, it made you realize that both of you just confessed each other’s feelings. You felt nothing more but relief.

“It’s okay, just tell her the truth. What you did was bad, indeed, but you can’t judge yourself. Okay?” you whispered, while your eyes were still glued to your hands.

You suddenly felt Haechan’s hand on your chin, to lift it up. His eyes were mesmerizing, and you could not take your eyes off of them. And at that moment, you also thought about what you two were going to be, a couple? close friends? how did things were going to turn after these confessions? And when you blinked, you didn’t know how close your faces were. You were getting closer and closer so slowly, and it drove you crazy. Fuck it. You grabbed him by his collar and kissed him tenderly. Your lips were perfectly synchronized, and it felt so good to feel the warmth of his mouth after such a long wait.

What the future holds, only belongs to the future. You wanted to know what you two would become, but you decided to let go of your overthinking and fears to live with the flow. Right now, you were in your lover’s embrace, and it was all that mattered. “I love you.” he shushed, caressing your cheeks and looking at you like you were the eighth wonder of the world. His eyes’ sparkles lighted up your world, and you could not be happier. “I hate you, why would you make me wait for so long, god!” you giggled, hitting his shoulders and went directly for a hug. Fatality, was it so? Who knows.

Hello guys, so that was the last part of TTSP! It’s my first time writing a story with chapters, I’m usually very bad at keeping writing about the same plot, in the long -not so long though- run. I really tend to write one-shots, so it was kinda a challenge for me! It was really interesting to go through this process, I just now can pinpoint more easily my weaknesses and know what I can do to improve my plots, and writing! Thank you for those who have read the three parts and liked it! If you have any request, just tell me! If my writings can be an escape for you, it’ll be a pleasure for me to write for you! -🧸

[breadcaaat]

part one

Jeongguk x hybrid!reader

| part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: violence & gore, human trafficking, bad language, abandoned ramen??

There are few things more liberating than running from your empty, dingy little studio apartment to eat ramen at midnight post break-up. Something about it makes the noodles taste better.

The little shop was quiet this late at night, the sort of modern Gothic quiet that made Jeongguk wanna drink wine and brood at ominous-looking treelines. Not that he likes wine or is particularly good at being handsome while brooding - it's just a concept. There's plenty of room for concepts this late at night. Daydreams and stuff. Night dreams? No, that'd just be a dream. I'm not asleep, so how does that work? Is there a word for daydreams at night?

He's got his nose buried in his phone when two salarymen - off late - slip into the little store and sit down. Google says there is no word for a daydream at night. Lame.

The waiter sets a few bowls of food in front of him and he thanks the old man quietly, setting his phone down and clicking his chopsticks together. What if humans had straight fingers? Like, just five chopsticks a hand.

Two more guests enter. They sit with the two salarymen, and he takes that first hot mouthful of noodles. Wait - if they were fingers they'd be made out of skin, right? So, like, skin sticks.

That's basically like having tiny, hard dicks for hands. Or no-knuckled fingers.

...Gross.

He takes a break from eating (momentary loss of appetite) and takes notice of the table for four.

It's an interesting group - individually, they were mundane as a cup of black coffee - but together they were unlikely. The salarymen seemed poorer now he was looking at them better. Greasy hair, bumpy skin, untailored blazers, slightly off-shade ties. One had a goatee and the other a mustache, neither really solid. Pubescent, kind of, like... like ironed pubes... I'm never growing a beard. Across from them sat a dude with bleached hair and heavy jewelry. He had a yellow smirk on his face that gave Jeongguk the feeling that he hadn't earned those shiny chains without a bit of underhandedness.

The last guest was covered head to toe in baggy clothing. He couldn't see their face, their fingers, anything. They kept their eyes down and their hands to themself.

Mustache - he looked a bit more intelligent than Goatee - smiled at the old waiter as he served them some drinks, and then pulled out a cigarette and held it to him. The old man looked puzzled, to say the least. "It's been a long day, hasn't it?" Mustache prompted, holding it a little closer. "You should take a smoke break. We'll be fine here." He smiled, and Jeongguk noticed his tongue was yellow with nicotine.

The old man's shoulder's stiffened, but he took it without a word and - after shuttering close all the blinds in the room - exited out the back. It took Jeongguk no more than a hot second to realize he should probably do the same.

He started to quietly gather his few possessions, and was about to get up to go for the door when he realized something rather inconvenient; the door was on that group's side of the restaurant. He'd have to pass them to get out. Where he was - at a booth tucked away on the other side of the restaurant, behind the serving counter in their perspective - they hadn't seemed to notice him yet.

He slid back into the booth and held his breath.

Mustache sat back, sighed, tugging at his labels a little. Goatee was putting off some serious I-hate-the-man-I’m-looking-at vibes, and the man he was looking at, Bleach, was receiving them with a smug sort of glee. Jesus, his teeth were yellow.

“Needs some whitening strips or somethin’,” he mused under his breath, and that’s when he got a look at the last one in the group.

At his whisper, she - they were a she - peeked at him from behind her hood with grey-hazel eyes. Like, completely. The color of her iris totally spanned across where the whites of her eyes should have been, and the pupils were huge in the shadow of her hood. They both froze as their eyes met.

What fresh hell?

The hair behind his neck prickled and gooseflesh rippled across his skin. He realized then that this group was more than just a dysfunctional business get-together - this was something completely out of his depth and something he needed to get away from now.

I have ramen at home, he thought, and with that shifted to the end of his booth to break for it, ramen abandoned.

He stopped though, as Mustache stood up and walked around the table until he was stood next to the girl with grey eyes, saying: “Stand up.”

She did, without a noise. Wordlessly, Mustache reached up and flipped her hood off. Her hair had the kitchen-scissors treatment and was matted in places, hanging loose. She was wearing a wide headband, too - this he took off without any permission to touch her, and she didn’t react.

Underneath the band, two ears flicked up - like, legitimate fucking cat ears. Thick, furry, rounded a little and black with a white spot on the back the size of a thumbprint. She bore Mustache’s probing with a dangerously quiet, docile attitude. He took a thin flashlight and checked the insides of her ears, lightly touched the tips to see if they’d flick. “She’s dirty,” he muttered, and Bleach pulled out his phone to play a mobile game. “Nothing a q-tip can’t clean,” he replied. Goatee growled a small warning.

He shined the flashlight in each of her pupils and she flinched, sensitive to light. He seemed satisfied with the reaction, however, and tipped her head up to check inside her nostrils, then pulled her jaw down to check her mouth. “Say ‘ah,’” he said, and she complied, and he shoved a finger in to prod at her teeth. They had some sort of fanged, metal retainer on them; he popped these out for a second and then popped them back in after checking her real teeth. He moved down then and unzipped her hoodie to reveal nothing underneath - Jeongguk flinched and glanced away, then glanced back.

This is a slave trade, he noted mutedly as the examination continued. I’m witnessing a real-life slave trade. Mustache did a couple more things after that - had her jump (holy shit she could jump - her fingers tapped the ceiling,) tested her arm strength and looked at her hands, checked down the back of her pants and reached in to touch something (ew,) probed at her feet and ankles and knees. She bore it all with the patience of a saint. His final move to was to tug at a thick collar on her neck - a pinkie-nail thick band of leather about half a thumb wide.

When he was done - the whole process took about three minutes - he took a step back and just looked at her. Bleach’s eyes flicked up from his game, audio still playing, and scrutinized Mustache with red-rimmed eyes.

There was silence.

Bleach heaved a sigh then and clicked his phone off. “Shit - you buying? I got a kitty at home in bed and I’m fucking tired.” Kitty?

“How much?” Mustache asked.

“Seven million won, in cash.”

“That’s double than what you offered the first time!” Goatee finally speaks, and it’s with barely contained anger. He looks like he’s holding in the fart of a lifetime.

“Tigers cost more than dogs.” Bleach shrugged.

“Aish,” Mustache muttered, and stood and looked at her again. A tense moment passed, and both Bleach and Goatee got progressively broodier. Neither of them had attractive brooding expressions.

With a stretch and a scratch at his chin, Mustache heaved a sigh, picked up a filled purse from beside his chair, and said - "Half now, half by Thursday."

"Deal. Stripes, c'mere." She padded closer to him - that must've been her name - as he took the purse. He then pulled something out of his jacket pocket - it looked like a TV remote but only had two buttons and some print in silver sharpie at the bottom. He handed it to Stripes.

Mustache and Goatee both visibly flinched, and as the remote passed hands Mustache started to protest but Bleach interrupted him by loudly sucking a hiss through his teeth.

"Jungsu-shi," he started, more patronizing than anything else. "Can't give it straight to you or you'll kill me and take your money back, yeah? So just wait until I'm outta here and then she'll give it to you. No problem." This very much seemed to be a problem with Mustache (Jungsu-shi?) and Goatee - now they both looked like they were holding in massive farts from fear and anger, respectively, sweat misting at the temples and red in the face.

The door chimes jingled as Bleach left the restaurant.

Jeongguk was holding his breath and it seemed like everyone else was too. Stripes stared down at the remote, eyes unmoving. A minute passed. Two.

"He's gone now, so give it to me," Mustache said. There was a barely contained waver in his voice.

Stripes looked up from the remote but did not hand it to him. Jeongguk could read a lot of things in those alien eyes. Indecisiveness. Defiance. Calculation.

It was in that moment that Goatee's anger-fart burst forth with all the gusto of a night after Mexican, and as he stood up with a yell commanding obedience and force enough to send his chair screeching and Jeongguk startling in his seat, he read in those grey-hazel eyes something else: anger. Pure, unadulterated anger fueled by bitter blood and killer canines. Which she bared then, sharp grey metal to match her eyes.

When Jeongguk was a kid, he did about nine years of tae kwon do. He took part in a handful of tournaments, too, and one fist fight in middle school. God knows how many action movies he's watched. Fight scenes are cinematic. People get hit and they get back up despite blows to the head and broken bones because they're passionate characters - or whatever. Grunts go down after a punch from the protagonist. People like fight scenes because they're full of energy, not malice. Even the fight scenes that try to be realistic - there's always something held back, always something inaccurate. The fight scene he witnesses is over before he processes it's a fight scene.

He's pretty sure Goatee makes the first move, but Stripes reacts so fast that it looks like they both launch at each other in sync. She tosses the remote away and they tumble down to the floor snarling, Stripes on top and mostly out of sight behind the serving counter. There's a struggle, some kicking, the sounds of flesh hitting flesh, a growl, a gurgle. He stops kicking and she disappears behind the counter. A pool of blood rapidly crawls across the floor. The remote skids over to Jeongguk's feet and Mustache follows it.

They make some really awkward eye contact.

On impulse, Jeongguk grabs the remote and runs for the kitchen. Mustache yells some choice words and chases him.

Shit shit - they crash into the kitchen and he yanks a steel rolling table across his pursuers path, only to take a pot thrown to the head - fuck, ow! Shit! He stumbles, and it's just enough of a delay that Mustache vaults over the table gracelessly and stumbles in front of him, whipping out a butterfly knife. His panting was the loudest thing in the room.

"Listen kid - " he cuffed him over the ear because he looked too dizzy " - Hey, listen - if you don't give that to me right fucking now she's going to kill us both, hear? So fucking hand it over - !" He never finishes his sentence, cut off when a knife enters one ear and pokes out the other.

Jeongguk chokes out what might've been a sob.

Everything's slowed down now. He follows the hand at the knife's handle up to Stripes's face, which is covered in blood up to her eyes and down to her neck, dripping off her chin. Between her teeth, she's holding Goatee's throat, which she lets dribble out with a plop. She lets go of the handle. Mustache sags to the floor. Jeongguk thinks he's choking but he's not really sure; there's a buzzing in his ears.

She shifts so that she's crouching in front of him then, and he tosses the remote at her defeatedly. I'm going to die, he thinks, but she simply grabs it and then crawls towards the pot Mustache threw. Setting the remote on the ground, she takes the pot and smashes it. The effect is immediate.

Her hands fly up to her throat with an agonized cry and she sags to the ground, writhing in pain. Jeongguk's confused but still impulsive. He crawls over before he can think not to, just like before.

"What's - what's wrong?" She bats at him with a clawed hand distractedly and he dodges it " - Hey, I'm trying to help! Show me what's wrong!"

She does so, unintentionally - that same clawed hand joins the other at her throat, tearing and prying at the leather there. "Get it off," she chokes. "Get it off!"

"I will, I will!" How?

He could see the willpower it cost her to take her hands away, instead bunching the fabric of his hoodie in her fist. It was the first good look he got at the collar: thick, ungiving, brutal. And electric, apparently - off to the side there was a plastic box bolted firmly into the leather, with two prongs branching off of it and to the skin of her neck, like a dog's shock collar. He yanked on this, trying to pop it away. "Shit," he murmured when it didn't budge at all, "Okay, not gonna work - roll over - is there a latch? How do I get it off?" She rolled over and pointed at the remote before letting out another sob.

"But that's broken," he hissed, moreso to himself than her but it earned him a pinch to the side with a very sharp pair of fingers. She whimpered something about numbers, moving her hair to reveal where the collar was latched with a three-digit padlock.

...a remote that only had two buttons and some print in silver sharpie at the bottom...

Scrabbling for the remote, he looked at the broken shell and there he found it: 825. "Here!" he said, and then entered it and yanked out the padlock. The heavy leather sagged off her neck and onto the ground.

She rattled out a sigh of relief. Her sobbing quieted to soft whimpers, then to nothing.

Jeongguk must've sat there for a minute or two digesting both his ramen and the events of the night, when police sirens wailed - muffled by the shop front, down the street. Both heads swiveled in their direction.

He heard a pair of car doors thunk shut and turned to look at her with wide eyes, only the tiger girl wasn't there. All that was left to say she'd been there at all was a broken leather shackle and an open back door.

Also, a pair of corpses he'd rather not smell or look at anymore.

A/N: uhhh first fic?? I’m riding a wave of impulsiveness posting this right now. No fucking clue when the next one comes out but if ya’ll berate me the notifs will prompt me into finishing. I am incapable of motivation.

Tag List: (fuck it i’ll make one of these too) @feed-my-geek-soul thamks for beta reading 😘

[redknight3996]

The Demon Lord’s Generals 4

Chapter 4 - The Golden Heir

Fergus snapped his jaws into empty air as Joff ducked his lunge and retaliated by aiming straight for his armored throat, her teeth digging into the reinforced leather before a surprised yip slipped out when her brother twisted and rolled, his larger body easily lifting her up and slamming her into the mat as he rolled out of her grasp and to his feet. She had barely a moment to blink before his jaws clamped firmly around her throat, a warning growl signaling his intent.

Jofrid stared up at him for a moment, her deep brown eyes warring between stubborn resistance and...no, that wasn’t submissiveness, that was violent retaliation. That did track with his sister’s typical attitude, so Fergus growled again, firmer this time. After a few tense seconds, she finally let out a defeated whine, and he let her free. Before promptly smacking her across the snout when she tried to get in a retaliatory bite.

“Hey! Joff, none of that!” Einar growled out from the nearby bench, his deep voice echoing through the otherwise empty training hall, “Bites end when the fights end.”

Joff whined again, then just flopped to the floor, grumbling as she slumped against the mat. Fergus narrowed his own amber eyes at the brat, before changing to full human form, his bones and flesh easily shifting back into a different type of solid muscle while his pale-blonde fur receded back into a thin beard and his naturally curly hair. His leathers shifted with him, settled across his skin as he started to stretch his muscles, winding down from the spar.

“You did do well,” he complimented, keeping his face neutral as one of Joff’s ears perked up, “Though you need to remember, you do have a slighter build than me. You won’t win in a test of strength.” In a slightly lower tone, he whispered. “You don’t need to.”

Joff huffed, settling again as Einar sighed in annoyance. “Don’t coddle her when she’s being stupid.” The balding lycan frowned, scratching at his black beard. “There’s a hundred ways she could’ve used her size to an advantage, but instead she dives for another test of strength. It’s damn stupid is what it is.”

“Your advice is noted. Now shut up.”

Einar frowned, then nodded to Fergus, taking one of the towels from his shoulder and handing it to him, so he could wipe the sweat and spit from his skin. All the while, Jofrid continued to mope.

Then both of them went tense at the all too familiar snarling tone that sounded out from the training hall’s doorway, along with the tell-tale thumps of steel-toed boots and faint smell of ash. “What, exactly, was that pathetic display?” 

Joff visibly tensed, her tail instinctively curling under her as Fergus turned to stare at his scowling father. He folded his hands behind his back, keeping them out of sight as they clenched. “It was training, sir.”

“Shut your mouth, boy.” Father snarled again, glaring at him, then turned his cold gaze at Joff. “Get up, brat. I won’t have even my worthless lackwit of a ‘daughter’ cower like some craven pissant.”

It took a second, but Fergus did have to give his sister credit as she shifted to full human and stood straight to meet their father’s gaze. She almost looked undaunted by the prospect of facing the head of their family in one of his typical, barely restrained rages. Almost.

Father was a large man, broad and strongly built. The type of man that drew attention, if just out of fear for what he might do if angered. Joff had his dark brown hair, though not his long beard, which was braided into three “tails” down to his chest, matched by the single, steel-threaded braid dangling down to his back. Similar steel threads looped through the gambeson he wore, meant more to restrain the wolf in him than shift with him when he turned. It was black, much like the rest of his clothing.

Einar wore similar, though his was brown and lacked the steel-teeth buckles.

“Well? You heard your damn trainer. You should know how to fight by now. So why are you being a fucking moron?” Father continued, his coal-gray eyes narrowed in rage.

Joff averted her eyes, afraid to challenge him, and Fergus felt the heavy weight of resignation settle over him once again. He knew how this would go. Father would whine and rage and yell as though his petulance had meaning to it, as though every harsh bark was somehow conveying messages instead of filling silence. He’d scream insults and invectives and utterly destroy Joff’s confidence so Fergus would, once again, have to go and hold her close as she tried not to cry, because crying was weakness, and Father hated weakness. 

He hated it so much that the instant he’d realized Fergus had grown taller than him, the insecure fool began keeping himself quarter-shifted, just barely letting his wolf out to loom only an inch taller than his eldest son. It wasn’t the first sign Fergus had seen of just how pathetic his father was, but it was the one that killed any false-respect the man had beaten into him.

Einar was looking uncomfortable, so Fergus shot him a warning glare. Their cousin wasn’t a terrible man, but he was a bad one. Uncomfortable with speaking, far too easily bending. He repeated Father’s rhetoric of strength above all and then grew surprised when Joff wanted to prove she could be just that. Strong. Physically capable. A warrior.

Fergus did not sneer. He did not scowl, he did not let loose the growl he could feel bubbling up in his chest. He did not challenge Father because he could still feel that phantom ache in his ribs. 

Maybe he would buy Joff a stuffed otter this time. She seemed fond of those lately.

“Jarl Magnusson, pardon the-” Maj had the slightest moment of hesitation as she saw Father looming over Joff, the fury in his eyes turning from his daughter to his servant in an instant, yet still had the courage to continue. “-interruption. There is a woman from Inrapaba here-”

“What?!” Father snapped, his underlying growl echoing through the room and setting everyone on edge, “You let a blasted bloodsucker into my castle?!” 

“Not a bloodsucker, my lord. She is human, though she claims to hold power over the vampires.”

That earned a scoff. “What tripe are you trying to feed me? A human wouldn’t have power over even the most pathetic of bloodsuckers.”

It was almost remarkable how ignorant Father could be. Maj said nothing to the contrary though. “Regardless, the Marchioness Valondrac wishes to speak with you on diplomatic matters, and bears a number of seals showing she is, indeed, a person of great importance-”

Father snarled, shaking his head. “A woman comes wearing false titles and bearing false seals and you think she has legitimacy?”

Maj did not back down, surprisingly. “She bore the marks of Plague, Blood, and Thirst, my lord.”

...Fergus didn’t actually know what that meant. Did this woman have influence with the Faith of the Three Matriarchs? He lacked experience with them. The most was meeting some Eastern clans that followed Marrow. The other two lacked interest in Olafiba.

“...” Father’s eyes narrowed further. "If this turns out to be nothing but a farce, I will not let you off lightly." 

"Of course, my lord." 

Father looked back at them from over his shoulder. “Stay.” And then walked away without another word.

Fergus watched him go upstairs, and listened, while Einar sighed in relief. Joff didn’t do the same, but he could see some of the tension slip out of her shoulders. She was trying to relax, but wasn’t there yet.

“Well, I suppose if Jarl Magnusson has ordered us to remain here, we may as well start back up with training. Joff, we’ll start with working on your-”

“We’re going, Einar,” Fergus stated. Joff looked at him without surprise, yet some trepidation, and Einar frowned nervously.

“Er, no, no, you should stay, or your father-” There was a thump and a thud as Fergus punched Einar in the jaw, snapping his head back and knocking him straight to the ground. 

Fergus waited a moment, checked Einar’s still present pulse, and nodded to Jofrid. “Why don’t we go visit Astrid?

"..." Jofrid stayed quiet and walked up to Fergus, prompting him to lead the way. Which he did, exiting out a side entrance of the training hall and out into the courtyard of Ota Keep.

Winter had arrived recently, and with the season came a thick snow. It weighed on the overhangs stretching above their pathways and smothered the ground; some would have expended heat and flame to melt away such an “inconvenience”, but those of the Clan Otakin had stronger constitutions. 

Fergus paused for a moment and rubbed Jofrid’s head as she shivered, earning a slight, annoyed whine from his younger sister. “Quiet. Walk naturally, with purpose.”

She huffed, yet straightened and strode out through the gates alongside him with the utmost certainty in her step. And if the guards gave them the slightest glance as they passed, a warning glare from Fergus silenced them as quickly as his teeth at their throats.

The siblings easily made their way down the winding road–past what houses their retainers had on the pathway up–to the main city under the Ota Clan’s dominion, known to all as “God Maw”. Jofrid did shift partially to wolfish form to make it down the hillside somewhat more easily, but that was acceptable.

As to the name of the city, it was dubbed “The Maw of God” for a very simple reason: the front gate they had was shaped like a massive wolf’s mouth.

No, the steep hill next to it–that the Ota Keep rested on–did not have a massive beast locked in its depths. Fergus had checked. Multiple times. Nor were there natural caves that resembled any sort of mouth. The city was set in something of a low point in a valley that formed a natural rock wall, which made it one of the easiest points through which to cross the border between Olafiba and Inrapaba, but the cliffs did not look like teeth, despite what some overly-imaginative poets may say.

Nor was God Maw specifically religious. Yes, they did naturally have a cathedral to the God of Beasts, Therian, but it wasn’t home to the Beast Church, and neither did the city have a particular connection to that deity, praised though she may be. It was not a religious site, nor a holy ground, nor were its populace even particularly pious. While worship was held and most households had altars, the commonfolk were not slavishly devoted to their deity either.

Ultimately, the name came from a simple source: When Ota Clanfounder established the city, she declared it “God Maw”, for no other city named as such had yet existed, and she wanted her new home to have an impressive name.

Thus, the city was founded, and truly, history was marvelous.

But Fergus couldn’t care less about history in that moment. He was more focused on guiding his sister through the city–ignoring any and all curious stares along the way–and to the small chapel Astrid worked at.

It was a humble place, set in a plaza near the city’s edge, yet close to the path up to Ota Keep. There were larger buildings around, homes and shops, and the fountain in the center drew far more attention than the simple, brownstone steeple, but there was still a sense of reverence to the building.

“Astrid!” Jofrid perked up as she spotted the brown-robed monk–her half-blonde, half-brown hair looped and braided into a long tail down her back while a short, thick beard, also blonde and brown, covered her lower face–sweeping the street outside the chapel, before she pouted as Fergus held her by the scruff of her shirt.

“No tackle hugs.” 

“...Mean.”

“You’ll knock them over.”

“I woooooon’t…”

“You will.”

Jofrid continued to pout, but didn’t try to break free as Fergus led her over to the middle-sibling of their somewhat small family, in comparison to many other nobles. The natural result of their father being an utter failure to treat his wife well or even maintain good relations with their aunts and uncles. 

“Hi Astrid,” Joff said as they approached, deliberately hanging limp in Fergus’s grip so he had to partially carry, partially drag her, “Fergus is here too.”

“Heh, I can see that!” Astrid Marcusbarn was, as previously stated, the middle child of the current main branch of the Otakin family, which, as tradition dictated, meant they were to go into the Church of the Beast as one of the faithful upon their eighteenth birthday. Astrid had left home at twelve. Fergus could not blame her for the decision. “Though it’s Astrik today!”

“Oh alright.”

“Hello then Astrik,” Fergus greeted his brother. The middle child of their family was two-souled. Some called it bigender, but Fergus thought that term was less interesting. Essentially, sometimes Astrik went by Astrik and he was Fergus’s brother. Other times, she went by Astrid and was his sister. Astrik was the same person regardless, it was just how he was. “How is your day going?”

“Delightful so far! There was a great sale at the market today, and I’ve stocked up on a month’s worth of dried fish!” Astrik was also odd in demeanor. Very chipper. Fergus was fairly certain he was the only normal person in the main branch.

“What type of fish?”

“I have no idea! Mackerel, perhaps?” Hm.

Joff raised a hand. “Can we talk about something else? This is boring.”

“Oh certainly! Might you wish to hear the word of our Lady Therian–?”

“No.”

“I have stories~!” 

“...Maybe. Do they have seals?”

Astrik glanced at Fergus. He nodded, confirming that Joff indeed had another fixation. “Yup! In fact, wanna hear about the sealfolk from the Frost Lands~?”

Joff’s eyes were getting wider and Fergus frowned as her tail formed and started to wag. “Sealfolk?”

“Indeed! They are a sort of kin to us, a beastfolk race from the far north!”

“Like Helhavn?”

“No, further!”

“Like...Farbor?”

“Further than that! You see, littlest sister–” Joff frowned, but her tail was still wagging. “–they live all the way up in the Frost Lands, the grand, icy continent situated to our northwest, within the sea of-”

“I know where the Frost Lands are. I’ve taken geography. It’s the big horn-shaped one.”

Astrik’s lips twitched. “A horn? Really?” He glanced at Fergus. “Would you say the Frost Lands resemble a horn?”

Fergus’s frown deepened. He wasn’t annoyed. Just...annoyed. In general, not at them. Still, it would be rude not to reply. “What type?”

And Astrik looked back to Jofrid. “He asks ‘what type’.”

“...The curved type. Like goats. Maybe like ibexes?”

“Hmm...And Fergus? Your opinion?”

Fergus resisted rolling his eyes. He really didn’t understand why he had to participate in this nonsense, but it was his own fault–

His ears twitched to attention and he turned, shoving Joff towards Astrik as steam and water erupted from the fountain once behind him, now in front. A plume of steam was still rising from it as splashing and hacking coughs sounded out–Fergus went tense.

Not from the fountain, nor the familiar voice in it. He tensed from the winged woman touching down in front of him, facing the fountain, her crimson feathered wings flapping once before they burst in the familiar reek of blood. “Wow, you flew far. I’m almost impressed you survived. Then again, even the proudest vampire will admit lycans are tenacious and hard to kill, so I don’t know how much credit I can give you specifically, Mags.”

It clicked. That was his father. Not the black-robed woman; the soaked, choking shape pulling himself up out the fountain, clutching to the side as his feet fought for purchase. Father was there, dripping with water and steaming as his korei flitted around his head, chittering with irritation and utterly lacking in concern. The fire spirit had always been a callous creature, more drawn and bound to Father’s sadism than any real connection. No empathy for his pain. No loyalty should things devolve further.

“Y-You f-f-filthy bitch!” And it seemed they would. Father snarled, his teeth sharp and bared as he tried to stand. Tried. He needed to hold the fountain’s side, and even then, his legs shook. Not broken. “D-D-Do you have any idea-”

“I do, Jarl Magnusson. I know who you are, I know how you married into the Otakin family partially out of prestige in battle, and mostly because your father was a friend to Grith Sophusson of Clan Otakin who very conveniently died in the war against Vojteh Hill, leaving you to take power–” The woman held up a hand and there was a brief displacement of air as Father tried to interrupt but clutched his throat instead. “–and I’m not saying you had anything to do with it, necessarily, I’m just saying it’s a point of interest. And my point was, I know your hold is only on this border city and that the sheer lack of respect your position as a ‘border king’ garners rankles you deeply. I know this, and I wanted to have a nice chat about how to leverage your position here to make yourself greater.”

Fergus stilled. The idea of Father gaining more power–No. No, he would wait, he was composed, ignore the ache and listen to her words. Joff was still behind him, Astrik was keeping her safe, they were both fine. He was between Father and them.

The woman continued, “So calling me a ‘miserable, craven slave-bitch of the bloodsuckers’ and threatening to split my chest open and eat my heart right in the middle of teatime was stupid. Really stupid.” She lowered her hand and Father choked, gasping as he tried to suck down air. Then she looked back at Fergus. Her eyes were yellow and her skin was brown. “Aren’t you his son?”

“...Aye.” Fergus nodded. “Why?”

“Curiosity. I can see some of his face in yours, but you have your mother’s hair and eyes.”

“Thank you.” Why did he thank her. What was that response, idiot.

“You’re welcome!” She smiled easily. “Fergus Marcusson then. You inherit your surnames from the warrior-parent, right? Though I wouldn’t say this guy is much of one.” 

She kept her eyes on Fergus and off of Father. It wasn’t wise. He was up on his feet, rubbing at his throat, still silent but hateful in his glare. “That is my name. And yours is?”

“Lady Claire Valondrac. Daughter of Rot, and the Marchioness of Inrapaba.”

Astrik’s voice came before Fergus could stop it. “You’re from the Plague Church??”

“Eh, in a sense.” She shrugged and continued to smile. She wasn’t showing her teeth. She was oddly relaxed. “Why are you so surprised, monk of the Beast Church?”

“Oh, er-” Astrik paused and looked to Fergus. He considered the unasked question, then nodded. “You, um...you’re not wearing white.”

Valondrac snorted. “No, I’m not. I don’t think that’s a requirement when you’ve joined up with other faiths too.” That raised further questions, but she was far too relaxed. Father was–

Her hand raised before he realized and a wall ice quelled Father’s plume of flame before it could hit her. Astrik and Joff were behind Fergus, who was behind Valondrac. Had the burst of fire hit her, passed by her–

Valondrac flicked a finger and Father screamed, collapsing to a knee, a spike of ice piercing deep in his thigh as he clutched it. “Oh calm down, you’ll survive. It’s not even silver.” She looked to them again with a wince. “Sorry.” She wasn’t looking at him.

Joff was shaking. Fergus felt a growl slip before he could stop it and Valondrac’s eyes went to him. They were still yellow. They looked like suns. He stood firm. She kept her eyes on his.

“May I ask their names?”

“...” Fergus kept his gaze locked on her, not giving an inch. He signaled Astrik to respond.

“I am Astrik Marcusbarn. This is Jofrid.”

“Hello Astrik. Hello Jofrid. I have no intention of hurting you, nor your brother.” Even as she spoke to them, she staring at Fergus. He almost felt proud there. She saw him as a threat. “I may further harm your father. Do you take issue with my actions?

“No,” Fergus answered. He hadn’t meant to.

“...No.” Astrik’s voice came quiet, but hard. Valondrac’s eyes narrowed. Her lips twitched down, nearly baring teeth. Anger. At whom?

“But-” Joff cut herself off, clutching to Astrik’s sleeve. She looked small. She was fifteen, near as tall as some adults, and she looked so small there. And Valondrac, slowly, without any hint of glow, showing both her hands, made a gesture. A simple one, a slight nod of her head, for her to continue. “...B-But...he’s dad...”

“Are you serious?!” Fergus had never heard his father’s voice sound so shocked. Father’s eyes were wide, his mouth open. “You-You are the only one to-You are my children! I am your father! And-And the bastard is the only one to-She? Of all people?!”

He was clutching at his knee, one hand still supporting his weight on the fountain. “You are my blood! My kin! And you would-You would allow an invader, an interloper to kill me!?” He looked around the plaza, at the crowd that had gathered from the commotion, the crowd Fergus just now noticed. “GUARDS! WHERE ARE MY GUARDS!? I’VE BEEN ASSAULTED!”

The guards did come at his call, spears and shields and maces at the ready as they pushed through the crowds when a horse came into the plaza, catching attention because everyone knew that speckled brown destrier. “Rescind that order.”

Mother’s voice was quiet, but it carried, and Father’s ire whirled on her in an instant. “WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE-?!”

“You broke guest right.” There were gasps. Fergus felt like laughing. That, of all things, was what they took offense to.

"That…! She's no guest of mine!"

“I was received as one and accepted my host’s offer of food,” Valondrac countered, smiling again, “By all rights, I was your guest.”

“I never agreed–!”

"Enough,” Mother interrupted, “We shall deal with this later. Guards, rescind my husband’s previous orders and lead him away. He needs medical attention." 

"What!? No! Unhand me at once!" Struggling in the grasp of the guards, Father was almost able to free himself. It was a feat that would have once been impressive to Fergus, given his father’s injured state, but as it stood, he merely wanted him gone.

As her horse approached the group and Father was half-carried, half-dragged away–his korei flitting about his head in a series of amused chirps and doing absolutely nothing to help–Mother looked to Valondrac. Her eyes were the same amber shade as Fergus’s. Her pale hair was the same shade too. Her face was narrow. She was generally narrow. She wasn’t a warrior or an athlete. She had a gentler soul than Father, who–despite every saying to the contrary–utterly failed to accept her peaceful ways to soothe his fury. "I apologize for my husband's actions. I shall make sure he is dealt with appropriately." 

"Is that so?" Still grinning, Valondrac turned away. "Well, if that is the case, then I shall be awaiting your word on the subject in the future. For now, I do believe I had some tea left." And without a second thought, her wings formed once more and she took off into the air, leaving as quickly as she arrived as she returned to their manor. 

Hopping off her horse as soon as she was gone, Mother walked over and embraced her children. 

"Thank the maw none of you were hurt. I know he is prone to anger, but what was he thinking attacking like that?” Her grip was tight. Soothing, but tight.

"M-Mom…W-What about dad? Is...Is he g-going…" Joff couldn’t help but stammer. Fergus felt a sudden apprehension, a concern Father would hear, that he stamped down in an instant.

"It's okay Jofrid, you don't need to worry about him anymore. It shall take time, but he will be gone and he won't hurt you anymore." Even with her words of comfort, his youngest sibling couldn't help but shake in her arms. 

"...Can you not banish him now? Not only did he break guest right, but if she was truly from the Plague Church, then we may anger them as well," Astrik said, his voice low but strong. 

"Were it that simple I would have allowed her to strike him down where he stood. But even with his crimes against him, Marcus has many allies, many who would be forced to intercede if we were to act too hastily. He may have failed to show her due courtesy and breached hospitality by openly threatening harm, but he didn’t leave a mark we could use to show fault." Father rarely left marks that would show. “Though, even if he did, there’s no guarantee that would be enough for some of those...people.” 

"...and what shall we do about our guest?" 

"That I am uncertain about…her anger seemed to only be levied at Marcus, but if we were to attempt to negotiate with her, she would have the advantage thanks to his actions…"

"Allow me to talk to her." Mother’s gaze snapped to Fergus, her mouth curled down in displeasure, even as she continued rubbing Jofrid’s back to soothe her. She didn’t deny him though. “I do have diplomatic training. I know how to speak to an individual of equal rank. Or superior rank, as the case may be here.”

Her eyes widened at his frank admission. Acknowledging Valondrac may stand above them in terms of hierarchy was a dangerous move. Even more dangerous would be trying to deny such a thing if she truly was more powerful. “I know you do. I helped tutor you. What makes you most qualified?” 

It wasn’t a challenge. The question was honest. She needed to know he was capable. “She held my gaze. Father was a direct threat, seeking violence against her. She disregarded him entirely. When she spoke to me, she kept her eyes on mine the entire time.”

Mother stared at him, then looked to Astrik, who nodded. “He held her gaze the entire time. Even when she spoke to us, she kept her eyes on his.”

“...” Mother nodded back, and looked to Fergus. “Be careful.”

It felt like far less time passed on his journey back to Ota Keep. His mind was awhirl the entire way up the path, and before he knew it, he could see the hole in their manor’s wall. It was almost funny; Father would get so easily enraged at the slightest hint they’d even scratched something within the Keep, yet he was the one to smash an entire hole through the ancient building.

It also appeared as if their guest did not care about the hole, given how he could see her enjoying tea while she looked out the broken wall.

The servants inside the keep, however, didn't appear to share her sentiment as they rushed around the interior, trying to set fallen tapestries and trophies back in their proper places. Whatever Valondrac had done to Father had seemingly caused a cascade of falling objects. Fergus paid them no heed though. He had more important things to take care of. 

Once he arrived at the room, Fergus knocked on the door to let her know he was coming in. He waited for a moment, then let himself in. 

"Greetings Fergus,” Valondrac spoke, setting down her teacup. She was smiling again, apparently unbothered by the cold. “I must say, I am surprised you came so soon. I would have assumed you’d be busy, given what happened." 

“Mother is with Astrik and Jofrid. They’ll be fine.” He took the seat opposite her. “What do you want from Olafiba?”

“Ha, straight to the point! I like it.” She took another sip, then grinned at him. “I want Olafiba.”

He paused. “The entire country then. May I ask why?”

“You may.”

He did not sigh. He wanted to. “Why do you seek to conquer Olafiba, Marchioness of Inrapaba?”

“Because I have Inrapaba under my control and I want to claim its chief rival next. Because I want to rule the Dark Lands. Because I want to rule the entire world.”

He considered her. She was entirely serious, and there was a zealous fervor in her eyes. “You rule Inrapaba?”

“I do. I started with Blekhon county, and then moved through every other county. I took most through diplomacy, by levying military and economic force against nobles who were very sure they could control the ‘upstart’ in their midst by giving her a pretty title.” Her teeth gleamed in the instant she let them show. “They misunderstood exactly what it meant to have a ruler. They’ve been so long without one, playing their little games of politics and hiding away when the Demon Lords come calling. So allow me to introduce myself again, Fergus Marcusson of Clan Otakin. I am Marchioness Claire Valondrac, ruler of Inrapaba, and overlord of those ‘bloodsuckers’ your people, as a whole, quite despise. Is this an issue to you?”

"...I have no interest in who you rule over. My concerns lie with my home and your intent for it.”

“But do your concerns become worries and anxieties at the thought of an Inrapaban being your superior? Our two lands have had many conflicts in the past.”

“...Why bring that up?”

Valondrac smiled. “Tell me, Fergus, what would you consider your cultural identity?”

He considered the question. “I am Olafiban nobility. A Jarl’s son and heir.”

“Jarl. That’s an interesting word, isn’t it? It bears a resemblance to the lightlander title ‘Earl’, yet the two words mean very different things in their different contexts. An Earl is a lower-end noble landowner in certain Light Land nations, commonly held to be below a Duke, but above a Baron. Now, this isn’t necessarily true in all circumstances. There are many noble titles out in the world, and the definitions behind them change with circumstances, but I’ve read a very interesting set of books on Light Land nobility, so I have this context.

“Now, a Jarl is more akin to an independent king, are they not?” He slowly nodded. He wasn’t sure where this was going. “Yet there have been what are known as ‘High Kings’ or ‘High Queens’ in Olafiba’s history. Monarchs who stood above and united the Jarls under their banner. And many times, they were known to the Light Lands as ‘Demon Lords’, though this particular ‘subset’ were sometimes known as ‘Beast Lords’. Still, in the current era, Olafiba has lacked a central ruler, hasn’t it?”

“Yes. Where are you going with this?”

“A similar situation has occurred within Inrapaba.” She took a sip of tea. “Mm. My country has lacked a central ruler and government for quite some time too. There never was a ‘High Monarch’ for the vampires, they simply used king or queen or monarch, and they were sometimes called ‘Vampire Lords’ rather than ‘Beast Lords’. The vampires of my homeland have never actually called themselves equivalent to monarchs on their own. Isn’t that interesting? ‘High King’ implies they stand above all other royalty and have other royal families under their sway. Yet vampires, arrogant and backbiting though they may be, go instead by ‘Count’. My own title even reflects this. As Marchioness, I am acknowledged as above them, but I haven’t declared myself a Queen.”

Fergus could almost hear the “yet” at the end of her sentence. Then Valondrac laughed.

“No no, no yet. I’m not going to be a queen. I’m going to be an Empress! That’s the context, isn’t it? To name myself Queen is to declare I am equal to the Jarls of Olafiba, but to declare myself High Queen is to use your context. To hold true to your culture above the one I’m already a part of. Context matters. Words matter. And I’d like to hear what you genuinely think about my rule over those arrogant Counts that have tried to call themselves equals to Jarls.”

Fergus hesitated. She was...strange. He didn’t know what to make of her. Her ambition was clear. Her reasoning was strange. “It does concern me.” 

For many reasons. Not least of which was the idea that this woman was simply a mad pawn of the bloodsuckers, given a title to placate her and then sent to bring their rivals to heel. She was strong. Did that mean she could rule?

Something must have shown on his face. She giggled. “Good, I was wondering when we’d get to that. It’s a valid concern, certainly, not least because those Vampire Lords have, historically, had courts absolutely full of treachery and deceit that eventually brought them crashing down, often before any ‘hero’ could come to their door. Your people, meanwhile, have proven to stay loyal and true to those you give your loyalties to. Sometimes to your detriment.”

He frowned. “Loyalty is not a detriment.”

“No, it’s not. Loyalty is a virtue. Blind worship is. I’m glad you have your suspicions. I hope you keep them.” She steepled her fingers together, staring right at him as her smile dropped. “I came today to ask your father to join me. I picked him because I judged out of the different ‘Border Kings’ that he was the most obviously dissatisfied with his position, particularly with how frequently he is looked down upon by the more ‘inland’ Jarls. 

“I wanted to get the measure of his character first, of course, and he showed me just how stupid and vicious he really was. So I beat him up and sent him scurrying away. So now we come to you. The man who held my gaze in challenge to protect his younger siblings, even when I brutalized his more powerful father in front of him. You stood straight and tall and even growled a challenge when I seemed a threat. You seem like a better choice. And even if you refuse, I offer you this.”

She reached into her robes and held out a...booklet? It had an insignia printed on the front. A sort of...staff, with a crescent moon at its stop, and a line of three more symbols underneath it. A crowned skull, a bloody sword, and a ringed mouth. “...A pamphlet?”

“Yeah, I can see why you’d think that, but no actually. It’s a passport.”

“...What?”

“Yeah, I know, the pamphlets are taking a while to composite and I wanted to figure out some more about Olafiba’s political situation and culture firsthand before trying to appeal to you guys. As for the passport part, consider this your complete legal protection in Inrapaba. As long as you have one of these, you are completely and utterly protected by every single official in my territory, from the highest noble to the lowliest guard. It’s essentially a guarantee of my legal authority, which I still intend to spread through your lands.”

… “What?”

She paused. “Was that unclear? Alright, let me try this again...Okay, so, I run Inrapaba now, and this passport means you can enter the country and be protected by its laws, which I also wrote and enforce.”

“...And...the vampires will hold to it?”

“Yup! You have this, you can enter my lands. They literally can’t stop you or else they’re in trouble with me.” Her smile showed teeth. “And they don’t want to be in trouble with me.”

Fergus shivered, reminded of how easily she brutalized Fa...Marcus. How easily she defeated and maimed Marcus. “I see.”

“If you want further proof, I could also have Jonathan come over here. I will warn you, he is one of those bloodsuckers, so if any of your people cause him problems, we’ll have a problem.”

“...You want to have me on your side, yet you add in threats at the prospect of your vassal facing discrimination?”

“Yep. I don’t have the time or patience for racial tensions, but I’m willing to admit they’re going to exist no matter what I do. So I figure I can at least work to curb them before I have to step in.”

There was a tone in her voice. One that warned of how dangerous it would be to have her “step in”.

Still. Her proposal did make him...curious. “What if I would like to meet him?”

She grinned with a genuine cheer. “Then good! I’ll get him right here!”

Valondrac raised a hand and a white fly formed right in her upturned palm. “Huh. Rather drafty place you’re at here, huh Claire?”

The fly was talking. Huh. “Right, I should fix that...Something for later. For now, would you mind getting Jonathan? I need him here.”

“Ah, course course, no issue. Well, one issue. Gates cost, y’know?”

“Yeah yeah, put it on my tab with Mama Rot. I’ll pay her back soon enough.” Tab? Was this how Plague monks normally acted?

"Very well, I'll be back in a few." And as the fly disappeared, Valondrac focused upon the tray of baked goods that had been left alone on the table, though it appeared some had fallen off the tray and onto the ground. Grabbing one that was still on the tray, she left out a small, surprised noise as she bit into it.

"Is this chicken?" 

"Yes…meat pies are a common delicacy here. Is that not to your liking?" 

"No no, not that." Letting out a small chuckle, she continued eating. "It's just despite my research, something like this managed to evade me. I can't wait to see what else the world has to show me." With an oddly fond smile, she went back to eating the food, enjoying the various meat filled pastries. 

Unsure of how to respond, Fergus remained sitting there, waiting for whomever this Johnathan was. Thankfully, he didn't have to wait long as a white gate began to form out of the floor, a series of pale branches entangling together and slowly enlarging into a swirling entryway, tall enough for someone to pass through. Though Fergus wished he had thought to ask for some forewarning about just what his guest would be like.

"Greetings my lovely empress, I've come to respond to your call~!" With a dramatic flourish, a vampire came through the portal, hands outstretched as if to bring all attention to him, before he flourished again, a hand extended towards Fergus. He reeked of blood. Deeply, to the point that the scent clung to his flesh like a second skin. “And you must be our newest recruit! Greetings to you, oh Jarl of God’s Maw!”

“...I am not the Jarl, nor am I a recruit.”

“Well we’ll have to work on both of those! Ah, but where are my manners?” He flourished yet again, this time into a bow. “I am Count Jonathan Terrence Bleaksky, son of Argelia Ethelinde Bleaksky, and first subordinate of my lady, Marchioness Valondrac. It is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, not-yet-Jarl!”

Fergus felt his eye twitch. “My name is Fergus Marcusson. Don’t refer to me as ‘Jarl’ or ‘not-yet-Jarl’ or whatever other title you’re trying to think of to get around my requests.”

“My, you’re an angry one.” His temple throbbed and Bleaksky grinned. “Very well, Fergus Marcusson, what do you want to know of me and my bearing within the Marchioness’s rapidly growing retinue?”

“How did you join her ‘retinue’? You said you were her first subordinate.”

“That I am! Well, if one doesn’t count the demons she most assuredly has within her power, such as the portal-making dipteran. Which one was that, by the by? Fester, Lester, Chester, or Callahan?”

“I asked a question.” Fergus did not growl. He wasn’t at that point yet. He was close though.

Valondrac just smiled while she sipped her tea, while Bleaksky sighed dramatically, letting his hand rest against his forehead. “Oh so impatient. The tragedy of impetuous youth, how little I miss it. Ah well, it’s an interesting story, I will say, but the long and short of it is that my noble lady killed my lord and I joined on the spot because of how immensely I hated him.”

“So you’re a coward.”

Bleaksky immediately dropped his hand and straightened, glaring straight at Fergus. His eyes were red, and burning with a cold fury. For a moment, Fergus almost grinned. “What was that, whelp?”

“You’re a coward. Your lord was killed, and rather than avenge him, you joined his killer.”

“Did you forget the part where I stated I hated him? Is your memory that terrible? It couldn’t be your hearing, no, I’ve heard dogs have such wonderful senses of hearing.”

Fergus glared right back, a snarl slipping from his lips even as that feeling of...something built in him. “Then you’re an even worse coward for refusing to kill a lord you hated!”

“Really now? Is that the case? Even if I told you my ‘lord’ was my own brother? My kin? Damned is the kinslayer, is he not?”

That gave him pause. “Your brother...Why did you hate your brother?”

“Because he murdered our mother. Is that enough for you, or do I need to go into detail on just how terrible of a person he was? Every last taboo he broke, and every last crime he committed?”

“Then you really should have killed him! If he was a kinslayer himself, then your vengeance-!”

“One crime does not erase another, boy. Or does your kind lack a concept of debts? I would have thought you’d have some understanding of the idea–”

“Do not talk down to me! You can cower behind whatever justifications you want, but nothing you have said changes the fact that you are a craven who bowed to a man you hated and refused to kill, even when you knew you should have!”

“Then why is your father still alive?”

Fergus went still. Just for a moment, then everything came rushing up in a snarl of pure rage and–

“Sit. Down.”

He sat. He didn’t know when he did, but he was in his seat, as though he never leapt up. And across from him, Bleaksky was also sitting, back straight, in a chair picked from the floor.

“Good.” Valondrac took another drink of her tea, then gave them both very unimpressed looks. “That was stupid. Jonathan, why are you in trouble?”

“...” Bleaksky sighed. “I lost my temper.”

“You did. Why are you in trouble?”

He frowned stubbornly, then sighed again, scratching at his beard. “I was condescending to and dismissive of Marcuson, then further baited him into a rage because I was angry. Well, I was condescending to him because I found it amusing, that wasn’t out of any anger and it really wasn’t personal, I just have a tendency to act as such.”

“Mm hm. And Fergus? Why are you in trouble?”

...This was surreal. “...Why am I? I am not under your authority-”

“You are. Everyone is. Most simply fail to realize it. Yet.”

“...” He took a slow breath. The concept of an “alpha” was a stupid one, made up by an incompetent looking to justify his ideals of a social hierarchy. However, if the idiot had proposed Valondrac as an example of a naturally authoritative being, Fergus may have had to concede to him. “I provoked Bleaksky. I don’t like his attitude. I don’t like his smell. I like the idea of fighting him.

It was elation. That was what he felt. And Fergus let himself grin wide. “I want to fight him. It’s not a matter of hating him. I barely know the man. I just want to beat the shit out of him.” His teeth had lengthened as he spoke, and he could feel a jittering tension push through his whole body. He really, really wanted this fight. He wanted to fight Bleaksky like nothing else in the world.

“...Marchioness Valondrac.” Bleaksky was smiling too, his eyes burning an even brighter crimson. That bloody reek was growing stronger. “I would like to fight this young man. May I?”

Valondrac just rolled her eyes. “Yeesh, gods help me with these battle maniacs...Right, sure, but let’s actually use that training hall thing. We can save matters of war and culture and even what to do with Marcus for later. Also, Fergus, wait for me to dismiss you before you stand next time.”

Fergus paused, already out of his chair at the word “later”. “Er-My apologies, my lady. I’ll do better next time.”

Valondrac and Bleaksky both smirked, and it hit Fergus that he’d essentially just accepted her rule over him...But then again, did that really matter? He could see the strength brimming in her. In this woman, he could see the drive and power to conquer. If anyone was going to rule the continent, it was her.

And besides, he really wanted to beat Bleaksky’s face in. Becoming a conqueror’s vassal was an easy trade.

And about half an hour after that, his head snapped to the side as the vampire’s fist collided with his face in a strong right hook.

“Oh come now, boy, you can do better than that!” Bleaksky taunted, dancing on his feet with a jaunty grin, his fists held up in a boxer’s guard as Fergus tried to shake the fuzz from his brain.

“Get him Fergus! Kick his ass for clan Otakin!” Astrik shouted from the side, his hands cupped around his mouth. The two of them had taken their bout down to the training hall just in time for Mother and his two siblings to arrive. So while Mother was talking with Valondrac–discussing the terms of their vassalage and what benefits they would gain from it–Fergus was allowed to fight Bleaksky, which he was doing with great relish.

Even if Bleaksky kept punching him in the face. Hurt like hell, but he couldn’t stop grinning, even as he let out a deep growl and rushed forward, aiming to grab at Bleaksky’s throat–or, barring that, grab his arm when the bastard swung for him again.

Then Bleaksky’s fist smashed straight into his nose faster than he could see and Fergus was stumbling back again. “Tut tut, no finesse there~! Come now, if you aim to be a grappler, you’d better understand how to actually grab an attacker!”

“It would be easier if you let him be a wolf...Or wore a shirt,” Jofrid decided to point out, keeping her eyes on Bleaksky’s bare chest, which Fergus fervently disapproved of. Yes, it was a nice chest–very muscular in a lean way and actually had some hair on it, which was nice too; very pale though, to the point he could see veins–and yes, Fergus was also topless, but that was out of fairness.

...Gods, if Jofrid somehow developed a crush on a fucking vampire of all beings–

“Oh? Getting frustrated, Fergus?” Bleaksky grinned in that same jaunty, mocking way. “Would it help if I moved slower? Perhaps if I used only one arm?”

Fergus outright snarled then and shook his head. “You could try attacking me, you coldblooded fuck–”

He ducked in close when Bleaksky faked a lunge, playing along in rushing to meet him, then grabbing his arm the instant it shot for his face so he could yank him close and slam his head straight into Bleaksky’s.

There was a crack and a burst of blood and Fergus grinned wide as he twisted and flipped the vampire straight over his shoulder and to the mat, then dropped, keeping his legs around the arm as he yanked hard enough to–

There was a cracking sound, but not in the right place and Bleaksky was suddenly out of his grasp, still grinning as he got to his feet, his eyes outright glowing as his arm hung limp by his side. “My my...you are more impressive than I thought.”

“...How the hell did you…” Fergus muttered as he stood, then blinked. “...You dislocated every part of your arm??”

“To get out of your grip, yes.” Bleaksky chuckled even as a small trail of blood leaked from one nostril. He raised his working hand and gripped his shoulder, pushing it in with only a small grunt of effort, then went down the rest of his arm, smiling with each low pop as he set his bones back  in place. Astrik looked ill at the sight, but Jofrid seemed fascinated. “Mmm. I must say, I didn’t expect the throw...I haven’t had much cause to fight those of the lycanthropic persuasion before. You use grappling often?”

“...Yeah. It’s a major part of our martial arts. Strength to pin your opponent and skill to force them to submit. Or kill them, if need be.” He shrugged, watching Bleaksky. “We’re a tough people. Blows don’t bring us down easily and it’s hard to wear us out, so direct pins just work better.” Bleaksky’s still rattled his head though. He supposed that was a vampire’s strength at work, though the speed wasn’t something he’d expected. 

“My, that is fascinating! Those of the vampiric persuasion, myself included, tend more towards strikes and blows ourselves! Rapid hits, in and out, so you can overwhelm and brutalize your opponent before they can retaliate!”

“Huh. You don’t heal?”

“Oh we do, but we need to consume blood to really repair damage, and we can be remarkably fragile in some regards. Speaking of, one moment.” He suddenly put his thumb up to one nostril–the one that wasn’t bleeding–and blew out, spraying blood down his front.

“Eugh,” Astrik groaned.

“Woah,” Jofrid...said. Hm.

Fergus shot his sister a warning frown and received a stuck out tongue in reply. “Hrr...Right. I’m surprised you're fine with explaining your people’s styles.”

“Oh it’s not as though I went into any deep detail. And besides, information should be shared amongst comrades.” Bleaksky grinned. “Now come on. One more go~.”

Fergus stared at him, then smirked as he got into a low stance. “Fine. I’ll try not to break you, ‘fragile’ vampire.”

Bleaksky smiled wide in return as he returned to his boxing stance. “Try it.”

And Fergus lunged straight–

…

“...he kicked me,” Fergus muttered to himself, blinking up at his bedroom’s ceiling. His head was still throbbing. Partially with pain, mostly with indignant rage. “The bastard kicked me!”

“That is what Jofrid said happened, yes,” Mother agreed, sitting at his bedside with her accounting book in her lap, “Thank you for confirming that sequence of events, my sunshine.”

Fergus grimaced. “Please don’t call me that, Mother.”

“Why not? You did come very close to beating a vampiric lord, much like the sunshine does to all their kind.”

“I have no need for childhood nicknames, no matter how apt. Also, that sounds vaguely racist.”

Mother paused, then shrugged. “Perhaps. I’ll need to watch that now that we’re working with them, I suppose. How are you feeling?”

"Angry, but…excited."

"Oh?"

Fergus bared his teeth. He wasn’t sure if it was a scowl or a smile. "I want to beat his face in. I need to be stronger to wipe that smug look off his face!" 

"...Is that so? To think a vampire would be the reason you finally become a bit selfish. I'm glad."

He paused, then looked to his mother. "Selfish? About what?" 

"Don't think I haven't noticed Fergus,” she chided with a fond smile, “Any time I see you train, I can always tell that you're doing it for your siblings. Getting stronger to protect them, to keep Marcus’s anger away from them. Regardless of what happened, you always thought of them first, and yet, this vampire comes in and you want to get stronger to beat him for yourself. I never thought I would find myself thankful to one of his...to a man like him, but here I am." 

Fergus stayed silent as he thought about what she said. Regardless of how he looked at it, she was speaking the truth; everytime he trained, he thought of doing his best so Marcus wouldn't hurt his siblings. Training until the sun rose for them. But now, his blood boiled in anticipation, ready to push himself to new heights just so that he could defeat Johnathan. And he knew exactly how to.

“I’m going to perform the call to the wind.”

Mother stilled, and looked at him. He stared right back, showing his determination. “...Marcus is still alive.”

“So?”

“...” Mother chuckled and shook her head. “I just said it’s good you learned to think of yourself and now you jump right to this...Well, I suppose I can’t stop you.”

“Do you want to?”

“No, not in the slightest.” She put down her book, then leaned to give him a kiss on the forehead. “Go on. Claim your birthright.”

Barely a minute later, Fergus was sprinting out of the Keep in full wolf form, rushing off into the cool night air with a fierce grin on his elongated snout. His goal was a simple one: reach the Howling Stone, out at the cliffside overlooking the Maw. 

He made it there easily, bounding up the hillside to where the deceptively simple stone rested. From a distance, it looked almost like a grave; it was a standing stone, about the height of a child, with a rounded surface and a single hole piercing through its center, where a simple breeze could become a melody. Fergus had visited it before, sometimes for comfort, sometimes for guidance; every time, it was silent, even when the wind was blowing.

Now though, he could hear the light tone playing through it. So he sat in front of it, listened, and howled. 

Low at first, then higher. Low and high and low again, a song meant for mourning. A passing of an age, one lost before its time; not from ruin, or even death, but from callous cruelty finally brought low. It wasn’t mourning his father. It was mourning what he could have been, had he been better. Echoed by a distant voice that came from under the gibbous moon. 

A hand caressed his face, light as silk, then was joined by a second. A pair of lips pressed to the top of his head. Then a second pair of arms wrapped around his waist, and he felt a weightless body, familiar in its heat, press against his back. A giggle, cheerier than he’d ever heard it, sounded out as the heat faded into warmth, then to a cool breeze. Embers trailed into the sky as he opened his eyes.

Two spirits drifted in the air in front of him. The glow of embers still trailed from his father’s korei, but they were fading fast. Before long, her ethereal body settled into the faint, faded white matched by the borei beside her. The two looked almost like twins, born from a solid, flowing air. Nearly untouchable, but still there. 

Fergus stood then, fully human as he gazed upon his...partners. “I am Fergus Marcusson Otakin. You did not know my father.” He nodded to one. “You did.” He nodded to the other. “I bear you no resentment. My name will rise above his. No one will know him for anything beyond the ‘father’ of Fergus, Jarl Otakin.”

They both nodded, one solemn, and the other giddy, a giggle echoing from her body. Her two eyes still sparkled with mirth, barely hidden. She had no mouth, yet she pressed a hand with long fingers to where one would be, wisps drifting from her “skin” like a type of hair.

“...You’ll be Aria.” She paused there, and stared at him. She looked astonished. Marcus had never named her. She was simply “his korei”. Fergus would be different, and he looked to the first one, the one who came when called, not knowing anything about him or his life. “And you...should be Elegy.”

Elegy nodded again, then folded her hands in her lap and bowed. A second later, Aria placed one hand over her heart, visibly beating through her sheer chest, and bowed as well. 

And then, surprising both of them, he bowed back. “With this, I accept you into my service, and offer my own to you. Here I ask that we be tied and bound in service and camaraderie, for though I am Jarl, I have found an empress worthy to follow.”

The bors stared at him, looked to each other, then straightened and nodded in unison. 

“Then we have an accord,” he finished as he stood straight too, letting a smile come to his face. Then it dropped when he noticed them both staring at something behind him. He turned, and- “Oh. Valondrac. How long were you there?”

Valondrac shrugged with a smile, her eyes gleaming in the moonlight. “For a little while. I asked your mother if there would be any issue with me visiting your ritual site once I heard your singing. She said no, so here I am.”

“I see. Thank you for not interrupting.”

“I wouldn’t. I can understand when things are important. Such as those stones and your song.” She didn’t ask a thing, but he could see her curiosity.

“The Howling Stones are gifts from Therian. The Jarls go to them to affirm their succession. By doing so while Marcus still lives, I have declared he is unfit for the position.” He glanced at Aria. “And, in doing so, it appears I have attracted a second borei.”

“I see. No other nation has these spirits, do they?”

“If they do, they do not play the same role. To us, the borei are eternal partners and confidants, gifting us with magic to stand against those who seek our submission. Often, they shift and change to suit us. Burning Korei for the fierce. Cold Zorei for the solemn. Firm Jorei for the stubborn. Thunderous Torei for the proud. Warped Dorei for the twisted. Bright Lorei for the adventurous. Reliable Borei for the protectors.” He smiled, and turned to his liege. “In my case, they shall be my partners as I serve you, my lady.”

“Heh. So they shall. Come then, Fergus, Son of Ragna and Marcus, Jarl Otakin.” She extended a hand to him. “I would hear your oath.”

Without hesitation, he walked over to her, and knelt on one knee, his head bowed. A moment later, his bors joined him in the same position.

“I, Fergus Marcusson Otakin, do solemnly swear to you, Marchioness Valondrac, future Empress of the Dark Lands, that I shall serve you in all ways. That I shall spill blood for you, whether it be your enemies or my own. That I shall use my knowledge in aid of your cause. And that I tie myself to you, in respect and oath, to the end of my days, whenever those may come.”

His words were echoed on the breeze. His bors spoke with him.

And Valondrac bared her teeth in a brilliant smile, cast in moonlight. “I hear your words, Jarl Otakin, and do accept your oath of service. 

“Rise and stand proud, my general.”

[smashingalaxies]

so like idk if u know or care but my mouth is super fucked up bc i didn’t take care of it properly when i was a kid (still kinda don’t take care of it properly lmfao) so i’m like constantly low key scared something bad will happen to my teeth all the time like the teeth in my lower jaw are really exposed bc my gums kinda disappeared over the years for whatever reason so i’m scared to eat super crunchy stuff or bite down hard on things with my front teeth bc like what if my teeth just snap outta my jaw like the gums aren’t there to stop that but idk if there’s even a way to fix that to like i’m just stuck like this and maybe i’m overreacting but what if i’m not yknow

anyway i had a minor toothache yesterday for like an hour and now part of my gums are bothering me so y’know first instinct is to panic because my teeth are gonna fall out of my mouth and i’ll just be this freak with missing teeth for no reason and no one will love me bc i’m missing teeth and my mouth is all fucked up and i just look stupid all the time i’m just this gross goblin no one can love

[moonstruckbucky]

Invisible

SUMMARY: The reader is, quite frankly, fed up with being second to Nancy "Goody-Two-Shoes" Wheeler.

PAIRING: Billy Hargrove x female Wheeler!Reader

WORD COUNT: 3.1k

REQUESTED: no

WARNINGS: Language [ya'll are gonna learn real quick that i have a straight up potty mouth], tooth-rotting fluff, slight Nancy-bashing [but it is not indicative of my own personal feelings towards Nancy, she’s a badass.]

Growing up as “the other Wheeler” was about as exciting as a nail through the eye. You were the middle sibling, serving to only add insult to injury. Virtually, you were the invisible one in the family, except when your father would ask why you couldn’t get grades like Nancy. Every time, it chipped away at your ever-dwindling self-confidence so that even you had begun to compare yourself to your older sister.

As for dating? Forget it. Your love life consisted of dating a boy for a few weeks until he had wormed his way closer to Nancy, and then you were history. You weren’t as pretty as Nancy, you weren’t as funny as Nancy (which was the only thing you disagreed with; you were downright hilarious while Nancy’s sense of humor bordered on non-existent).

You just weren’t Nancy.

You had a minor crush on Nancy’s boyfriend, Steve, when they first started dating, even though he barely considered the two of you to be friends. He tolerated you, as did everyone else. Nancy’s friends tolerated you when they invited Nancy out and said you could tag along too, if only out of respect for Nancy. But they never included you in conversation, never asked how your college applications were going. It was like you weren’t even there, and eventually you stopped going, and Nancy stopped asking.

The two of you weren’t particularly close, despite only being six months apart in age. She was focused on school and was too wrapped up in Steve to really worry about what her sister was or wasn’t getting up to. The only link between the two of you had been Barbara Holland, and once she’d disappeared and turned out to be dead, all ties between you and Nancy had been severed.

You went through the motions at Hawkins High School, throwing yourself into achieving the best grades you could to get into a school miles away from Hawkins, Indiana. Someplace where you wouldn’t just be known as “the other Wheeler”.

On a Thursday afternoon, you found yourself in the school library, nose buried in your American History textbook trying to retain the Gettysburg Address. You’d gotten your tests back earlier that day, and you’d just about failed. You hated the feeling of failure; every other aspect of your life was failure, so it was unacceptable for school to give you that feeling too.

The slamming of books on the desk jolted you from your position and you gasped loudly.

“Hey bookworm.”

You leered up into the face of the new kid, Billy Hargrove, who was wearing his signature smirk as he leaned on the chair across from you.

“Can I help you?” you grumbled, your heart rate slowing as you calmed down.

“Word has it you’re good at Algebra.” He pulled out the chair and sat down, completely uninvited.

“And?”

He tossed a stapled group of papers at you before folding his arms on the desk, leaning forward. You picked them up, taking in the circled red F on the page. Your eyes skimmed his answers quickly and then you tossed it back to him.

“Your formulas are wrong,” you observed before turning back to your book. The papers appeared in your line of sight again. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“Help me. Tutor me?” You raised an eyebrow at his almost pleading tone. “I can’t fail another class.”

“What’s in it for me besides loss of patience?” you snarked back, setting your book down.

“I can help you bring that History grade up.” Ignoring the sassy remark, he nodded at the test to your left, the failing grade bright against the paper. You gnawed on your lip for a while, weighing the pros and cons of trading tutoring sessions with Billy Hargrove.

You weren’t friends. In fact, the two of you couldn’t be more opposite. You’d seen him in the halls, parading around like a peacock surrounded by a gaggle of rowdy boys and girls who were drooling after him. You’d heard stories about him, how he moved from sunny California, how he picked fights over the smallest reasons, how he dated girls and left them heartbroken the next day. He was everything about high school you abhorred, and yet, you somehow found yourself agreeing to his stupid idea.

“Fuck this,” you whisper-yelled about an hour later, slamming your textbook closed. Billy had moved into the seat beside you to better go over his Algebra problems before moving onto History. You shoved the book away from you, fully fed up with trying to nail down important dates of the Civil War.

Billy smirked. “Didn’t know the other Wheeler had such a mouth on her.”

Bitterness settled in your gut at his remark, and you pursed your lips and pointedly looked in the other direction. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t heard before, but the way it came off Billy’s tongue sat heavy with you. Your leg started bouncing in annoyance as you fiddled with your pen, trying to will yourself not to cry over a comment you heard literally every day.

“Hey,” Billy then murmured, leaning forward to try and see your face. “You okay?”

“Just peachy,” you grumbled before gathering your belongings. “Tutoring’s over.”

You left him in the library, staring dumbfoundedly after you, and only when you stepped foot outside did you let your vision blur with the tears fighting to the surface. You climbed into your car after dumping your books on the passenger seat and punched the steering wheel, the horn honking once.

You weren’t exactly sure why you were so upset; after all, the comment was coming from Billy Hargrove of all people, so it wasn’t as if his opinion actually mattered. But somehow, it did. It cut you like a papercut, a quick swipe that gave way to an unrelenting sting. Maybe it was your subconscious finally giving up on trying to ignore it every time it slipped through someone’s teeth. Maybe that one time was enough straw to break the camel’s back.

God, you wished high school was over.

The drive home was silent and lonely, just like the rest of your life. While high school was supposed to help you figure out who you’d become in the real world, it seemed as if it was determined to point you in only one direction: Nancy’s shadow.

The house was quiet when you got home, and you found a note on the kitchen island that told you Nancy was out with Steve, Mike was at Will’s, and your parents had gone out for dinner. You sighed. It was typical that they forgot about you, leaving you to your own devices for dinner. You called your favorite Chinese place and ordered delivery and while you waited you showered, trying to scrub away the day’s events, cried a little in the shower over your pathetic life, and then put on a pair of pajamas and parked your ass on the couch for a horror movie binge.

Nancy never understood your fascination with the genre. You tried explaining it to her once, but she just looked at you like Sigourney Weaver looked at a Xenomorph and gave up on trying to “bond” with her sister.

The Chinese was delivered not long after you popped your Alien VHS into the player and changed the channel. You paid the driver and tipped him before closing the door and setting the bag on the coffee table. You dug out your orange chicken, fried rice, and spring rolls, popped the top on your can of Coke, and hit play on the movie.

The next day at school, there were whispers in the hallway about your tutoring session with Billy. Some girls glared and scoffed, while others merely analyzed you curiously. The boys just laughed.

What took you by surprise was the fact that your sister was standing beside your locker, looking every bit annoyed once she spotted you.

“What are you doing with Billy?” she hissed. “He’s a bad guy!”

You gave her a deadpan look as you swapped out your books. “I’m tutoring him in Algebra and he’s helping me with History. Besides, it isn’t like you actually care. They all eventually come crawling after you anyways.”

You slammed your locker closed and left Nancy gaping after you. As you entered your first period class, all conversation ceased and all eyes were on you. It was an uncomfortable walk to your seat in the middle of the room, the eyes of your peers burning into your head. You sat quietly and kept your head down, trying to block out the not-so-subtle whispers of the students around you.

By lunchtime, talk was buzzing through the school like rampant bees that “the other Wheeler was in the library with Billy and left in tears”. The story, of course, had been convoluted a multitude of ways that stretched it further and further from the truth until the final version was something along the lines of Billy, you, and a scandalous affair.

Normally, at lunch, you’d sit with Nancy, Steve, and the others even though you were never formally invited into conversation with them. Today, though, the look Nancy gave you when you entered the cafeteria told you you weren’t welcome. That was fine; sitting alone at a table made you feel less alone than when you were with Nancy and her cronies.

You pulled your lunch out of your bag despite not feeling very hungry, the cafeteria buzzing with activity as everyone tried to guess why you were suddenly sitting alone. Then conversation halted altogether, and a tray dropped down across from you, the school pizza dripping grease onto the napkin beneath it.

Billy Hargrove followed the path of the tray, settling on the chair across from you and popping the top on his can of soda. He met your surprised stare calmly and easily, and he winked over the top of his drink. You felt yourself blush and looked away from him shyly, suddenly wondering why all of the sudden he was paying attention to you of all people.

The answer to that question came later in the week. You were in the living room working on History homework on the coffee table, your headphones in. Tutoring with Billy had gone better after the event at lunch, and he’d fortunately kept the conversation to a minimum if it didn’t involve homework or your notes.

Your parents were home, but Nancy wasn’t. You bopped your head along to AC/DC, not seeing your mother come down the stairs in her bathrobe.

Karen was surprised to see a spitting image of the man on the cover of her trashy novel standing outside her front door, his shirt unbuttoned and showing off a good portion of his toned chest.

“Hi,” he said, turning the charm up to a hundred.

“Oh, are you here for Nancy?” she asked, hoping that his answer was no as she leaned against the doorway and pulled her hand from her robe, letting it fall open just a bit.

“No, no, not my type,” Billy replied, shaking his head with a smirk. “I’m actually here for Y/N.”

The surprise was clearly evident on Karen’s face since a boy hadn’t come calling for Y/N since her sophomore year. The expression on her face angered Billy, as if it was so unheard of for anyone to visit or even interact with her daughter. What kind of mother is she?

“Oh, she’s, um, she’s in the living room. Um, come on in.” Karen stepped aside and Billy sauntered in, hands in his pockets as he took in Y/N’s modest home on the other side of town. He found you bent over your textbook, headphones on your head as you mouthed the words to “Girl’s Got Rhythm”.

“Honey,” Karen called feebly. She said it a few more times before waltzing over and pulling the headphones off your head just as the guitar solo was about to kick off.

“Hey! What the hell-- Billy?” You felt frozen in your spot as Billy smirked at you from the living room doorway.

“Your friend came over to see you.” Your mom did a shit job at hiding the shock in her voice, but whether it was from the notion of you even having friends or having friends who looked like Billy, you weren’t sure. “I’m just going to go up and resume my bath.”

You grimaced at the way she said bath and batted her eyelashes at Billy, who barely spared her a second glance as she sauntered away.

“What are you doing here?” you finally asked once you stood to your feet. “Better yet, how do you know where I live?”

“I have connections,” he replied with a one-shouldered shrug. “Let’s go for a drive.”

“I-I can’t. I have homework.” You gestured behind you at the books laid out on the table.

“Work on it later. Lords know you’re passing every class.” He rolled his eyes. “Including History now, thanks to me.”

“Whatever,” you grumbled as you shoved your feet into your shoes. If there was one thing you knew about Billy Hargrove, it was that he was aggravatingly tenacious. He was relentless in his tutoring, making sure you had one set of dates down before quizzing you on the next set. It was frustrating, but you were glad you were finally grasping the concept.

Billy led you out the front door and down the walkway to his blue Camaro, stopping by the passenger door to open it for you. You angled into the seat, the leather cool under your jeans, and he ran around to the driver’s side. The engine roared as he turned it over and then he floored it down the street. Your hands were balled into fists inside your hoodie pocket as he drove, heading to the outskirts of town.

It remained silent in the car as he drove and for a while, you wondered if you were about the be the victim of a classic horror movie. Until Billy stopped at the top of the quarry, overlooking the lake and got out of the car. He leaned against the hood and ducked his head to light a cigarette before reaching back to slap the hood and waving you out.

Slowly you unbuckled yourself and got out, coming to stand beside him at the front of the car. Your nose crinkled at the smell of his cigarette, but he was at least generous enough to blow the smoke away from you. The moon reflected off the lake hundreds of feet below you, rippling as the breeze disturbed the water.

Billy was shockingly silent beside you, puffing on his cigarette and leering out into the night. You spoke up when you’d finally had enough of the silence.

“Why did you sit with me at lunch today? Isn’t that social suicide or something?”

Billy blew the smoke out through his nose in an aggravated huff, his eyes becoming hard. The rest of his cigarette was crunched under his boot as he turned to face you.

“Why do you do that?” he asked. At your confused expression he elaborated. “Put yourself down like that. Why do you do that?”

Your mouth dropped open but you had no answer for him. Not a verbal one anyway, so you shrugged.

“You know, for a smart girl, you’re really dumb,” he fired off next. Your shoulders squared themselves, ready to fight back. “You let people treat you like you’re nothing, like you’re invisible, and I don’t get it.”

“I...Where is this coming from? You don’t even know me!”

“I know you’re itching to get out of Hawkins, to find somewhere you’re not being compared to Nancy. Yeah, I know all about that. I hear people talk and I saw the way you reacted in the library when I called you the other Wheeler. You’re not subtle. I’m not some big dumb brute of a guy who can’t see when someone undeserving is suffering. I see a lot more than you think.”

Your mouth snapped shut as your throat tightened, and you had to look away. The look in his eye was too much as you came to the realization that you weren’t invisible, not to Billy anyway, and it hit you like a freight train.

“You don’t understand,” you heard yourself whispering. You closed your eyes against the onslaught of emotions rising within you. “My whole life, I’ve been invisible, never anyone’s first choice. Middle child syndrome, you know? My father always asked, ‘why can’t you get grades like Nancy?’ Why can’t you excel like Nancy?’ My first A- was trumped by her fucking A+ and I didn’t stop hearing about it for a week. Any boy I ever liked just used me to get closer to Nancy. It’s always Nancy. Nancy, Nancy, fucking Nancy. Why can’t it ever be me?”

The last line was said in such a broken tone that Billy was compelled to step forward. Then you were surrounded in his warmth, and it broke you. You cried into his shirt, finally feeling some relief that you could let it all go.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Billy murmured into your hair, pressing a gentle kiss there after. “I see you, Y/N.”

At those words, you choked on a sob and wound your arms around his waist, holding him tightly to you, and he mirrored the embrace. You stood like that for a while until you were out of tears and his shirt was thoroughly soaked through. Sniffling, you leaned back a bit out of his embrace and he loosened his hold on you just enough to look down at you.

“Sorry,” you muttered, nodding at his shirt. “I ruined your shirt.”

“Fuck the shirt,” he retorted with a smirk that made your mouth quirk up at the ends. “There’s that smile. You don’t have to live in anyone’s shadow, Y/N, least of all Nancy’s. You have a light all your own; let it shine.”

The next week at school was the best week of your life. After Billy had knocked some sense into you, he was never far from your side. Usually he had an arm slung around your shoulders, or your hand grasped in his, leaving the rest of the student body to gawk and wonder what he saw in you. Your confidence was slowly, but surely, rising, though you still had your off days. On those days, Billy was right there with you, murmuring his faith in you that you would overcome it, that you were brilliant, and smart, and beautiful, and that no one could touch you.

Billy Hargrove had unexpectedly saved your life.

[theeeveetamer]

(Same person that wrote the neko thing) honestly, I don’t care, im ok with anything you want to include.

Honestly y’all just need to put me down now because I had too much fun writing this. Ended up a lot kinkier than I’d intended though.

Tags: Neko, Neko Takumi, Human Leo, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Omega Takumi, Alpha Leo, Slave Trade, Slave Auction, Collars, Rope Bondage, Humiliation, Master/Pet, Mentioned Bestiality (Kind of, it’s a weird headcanon okay), Gags, Leo is a Good Guy

Warnings: Non-Con-y elements. Please read the tags.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17865764

The room was dark but for one dim light on the stage. All manner of Alphas were roaming about the small, dark room. A few of them chatted, but most of them remained silent and watched, just like him.

He hated these things. He hated the darkness, he hated the cramped spaces, and he hated the oppressing stink of Alpha pheromones that permeated the walls long after it was over… But Niles had given him a heads up that something special was happening this time, and Leo was nothing if not morbidly curious.

Someone lit the remaining torches on the stage, illuminating the makeshift wooden boards and bringing the entire scene into sharp relief. He had to allow his eyes a moment to adjust.

It wasn’t a very wide room, only fitting about six men abreast, but it was long. Perfect for the purpose it usually served. One end contained a raised platform, hastily constructed with rough planks of wood, and a door leading to an adjacent room. There were no windows: This was the dungeons, after all, and the ceiling was low. Not low enough that he needed to duck, but if he reached his arm up he could comfortably touch the ceiling with the full palm on his hand. A metal hook was bolted to the stone ceiling on the stage, and a block of wood sat off to the side, just in case it was needed. Perfectly suited for the kind of auctions they held.

In reality the room could hold double the number of men. There were only about a dozen currently there, but he’d been told it was a high-roller night only. The best of stock for the richest of men. His retainer was among them, keeping a watchful eye out just in case things turned sour and they needed to make an escape.

He was starting to get antsy. He had a hot bath and a good book waiting for him upstairs in his room once his curiosity had been sated, and he would much rather be doing that right now.

The auctioneer finally put their waiting to an end after several agonizing minutes of staring up at an empty stage.  He stepped out into the open, tugging something along by a leash behind him. Leo immediately saw what Niles had meant by ‘special’.

The man -- or boy, he wouldn’t put it past their soldiers to kidnap a child -- was not only Hoshidan, but a neko. And an incredibly beautiful one at that. His long silver hair was pulled back into a loose bun, but Leo could tell that it would be down past his back if it were loose. His fluffy ears of the same color were almost invisible, pushed flat against his head and his tail was busy and down between his legs.

Nekos didn’t usually wear collars, so he could only guess that the bright red one around his neck with the humiliating bell was an addition of the auctioneer’s. They’d also tied his calves to his thighs, so he was forced to crawl slowly on his hands and knees behind the man tugging his leash. A ring gag was also set firmly behind his teeth to keep his jaw wide.

“What did I tell you, milord?”

He was captivated by what was taking place on the stage, though mildly annoyed that Niles hadn’t just told him what was going to happen when he’d apparently known.

The pair stopped in the middle of the stage, and the auctioneer commanded the Omega to sit with a gesture of his hand. He stroked the top of his head fondly before his voice boomed out over the room.

“What do you think? Won’t he make a fantastic pet?”

The hoots and hollers of his fellow Alphas were deafening, but Leo remained silent. How barbaric. His father’s obsession with punishing Hoshido was going a step too far; To kidnap and sell off Omegas to the highest bidder was nothing short of monstrous.

“I think I’ve seen enough.” He muttered back to his retainer, though he wasn’t sure if Niles heard over the din.

He was about to turn and leave when he locked eyes with the poor man on the stage. He was wide-eyed and terrified, tears streaming down his cheeks as he was forced to suffer such humiliation. The sounds of the other Alphas were still roaring in his ears, but it was like his world stood still when he met those desperate amber eyes.

Damn it…

He couldn’t let him suffer like this. Who knew what these men would do to him if they got their hands on him? He was as exotic as exotic could come; He’d probably be dragged around to parties and passed around until he died of the humiliation. Or until his owner got bored of him and sent him off to be bred by the dogs. Despite being closer in stature to cats, nekos were rumored to make competent breeding partners for most species; Though he wasn’t sure if that was true or just a rumor. Nohrians didn’t come into contact with them very often.

He anxiously waited for the bidding to begin, but it seemed the auctioneer wasn’t done showing him off yet. It made sense, he wanted the Alphas in the room antsy and bothered, so they would run up the price. The man made a circular motion with his hand, and the neko clumsily turned himself around so his back was to the audience.

“Don’t worry, he’s fully trained, see?”

Then he snapped his fingers, and the boy dropped onto his forearms, ass in the air. Though he was still maintaining some modicum of modesty because his tail was still pressed between his legs.

“Don’t be shy, kitten. Everyone here wants to see you!”

The auctioneer grabbed him roughly by the tail and yanked it up, so he was fully exposed to the crowd. The Omega made a noise for the first time -- a strangled yelp muffled by his gag. His thighs were actually wet with slick, and his stiff cock hung down between his legs. This caused a stir in the room -- If Leo hadn’t known better he would have said the poor boy was just begging to be fucked. Most of the Alphas probably knew better actually, but the fantasy was powerful. A completely obedient pet at their beck and call, ready to be fucked at any time, through any humiliation?

If they weren’t ready to spend big money before, they certainly were now.

“We’ll start at 100,000 gold.”

The auctioneer didn’t let go of his tail, and really it seemed like he’d completely forgotten he was holding it. Leo guessed it was pretty painful, since as the bids climbed higher and higher the poor Omega was forced into more humiliating positions just to keep the pressure off. His face was flat on the ground, nails clawing at the splintered wood and back arched to alleviate the tension. This only had the effect of driving the bidding as he wriggled and squirmed.

Leo decided to bide his time. He knew with the weight of the imperial treasury at his back he could easily outbid any of these minor nobles, but he didn’t want to spend more than he needed. The numbers quickly climbed past the million mark, and then two, and then five… And Leo realized that this could go on all night.

He finally raised his card and answered with a firm “Ten million.”

The auctioneer finally dropped the neko’s tail, and the boy went back to hiding himself with it. The room fell completely silent, and he realized for the first time that he was nervously purring.

A few of the nobles turned to look at him, but he didn’t even spare a glance. Instead he crossed his arms over his chest and glared resolutely at the stage, as if to say challenge my bid. I dare you.

But no one did. He was sure some of the nobility had the gold for it, but even something as rare as a neko wasn’t worth that much of their money. Not when they knew he could easily double whatever offer they made.

“Sold!”

Leo dismissed is retainer and roughly dragged the neko by the leash back into the room where the slaves were held before auction. It was empty, confirming his suspicion that this neko was their only prize tonight. Money exchanged hands, and the auctioneer left them alone to their own devices.

As soon as he was gone Leo slipped a dagger out of its hiding place in his sleeve and cut the ropes, the gag, and the ridiculous collar off.

The Omega worked his jaw for a moment before speaking.

“T-Thank you sir.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I own you now, I could do anything to you that I pleased.”

He looked up at him curiously for a moment, big amber eyes shining in the dim torchlight. He looked so placid despite his tear stained cheeks and flushed face.

“But you won’t.”

“Oh? And how do you know that?”

He was right. Leo would never stoop so low, but the Omega didn’t know that. They’d never met before, never spoken. The only interaction they’d had was that one brief look before the bidding started.

“You were the only one that didn’t jeer at me. So thank you for rescuing me.”

“I… Of course.”

There was something so innocent in the way he gazed up at him, nothing but pure, unadulterated trust in his eyes. His tail swished lazily back and forth, straight up in the air this time.

“Can you walk?”

“Mmm… No, I don’t think so. They had my legs tied like that for a long time.”

He bent down and picked the smaller man up in his arms. He was much lighter than expected, and Leo had no problems carrying him up the several flights of stairs from the dungeons to the royal wing.

He’d be a dead man if his father found out he’d spent so much money on a slave… But that was the least of his worries. Right now he was focused on making sure the man in his arms was safe and comfortable.

He managed to sneak the neko into his room with little issue, and once they were there he grabbed one of his nightshirts from the dresser and handed it to him.

The neko took it gingerly, running his fingers over the soft silk curiously before he happily pulled it on over his head. Leo was quite a bit taller than him, so the shirt came down to his mid-thigh.

“Thank you, master!”

“D-Don’t call me that, okay?” He was relieved that the Omega was finally covered up. As vile as he found this entire affair, even he wasn’t immune to the effects of a pretty Omega.

He cocked his head to the side, ears perked up curiously. “What do I call you then?”

“You can just call me Leo.”

“Leo?”

“Yes, that is my name after all.”

The neko smiled broadly back at him.

“Wow! Master is very kind!”

He almost corrected him, but he supposed it would take some getting used to. He had no idea how long this Omega had been in captivity for, he might simply be used to referring to everyone in such a way. By the sound if it that was the case. His heart ached for the Hoshidan before him.

“What about you? What should I call you?”

“Oh! I’m sorry Master Leo... My name is Takumi.”

[bambihanson]

Questions Tag

I got tagged by @highkinglizardeliot

How tall are you?

5′1 and 3/4. Not that the 3/4 matters because I’m still very short

What colour and style is your hair?

Pretty long, pin straight, and it’s like a light brown/dark brown color. Also it’s super thick. It has no volume, but there’s a hell of a lot of it. 

What colour are your eyes?

Blue-gray

Do you wear glasses?

Yes. To quote my eye doctor, “Oh, you are severely near sighted with some astigmatism, bless your heart!”. I was tempted to get glasses like Alice’s last time I brought a pair only to learn large black frames do not suit me. I still went for a similar style, just more narrow. And they’re brown.

Do you have braces?

I did, but my teeth have shifted a little because I refused to wear my retainer after a while when I realized I’d have to wear it basically for the rest of my life and 13/14 year old me was like “Fuck that”. I’m not mad at her yet because they’re not obviously crooked in the front but we’ll see.

What’s your fashion sense?

IDK, I guess a little feminine but also pretty casual. I literally refuse to wear pants that aren’t skinny jeans, that much I can say. 

Full name?

Let’s just keep it at Tessa... but I will say my middle name is the name of a girl in a Beatles song and my surname is German and people can’t attempt to pronounce/spell it without having a seizure. 

When were you born?

August 2nd

Where are you from and where do you live?

I’m from New York and we still live on the East Coast of the US, but we moved down south in 2015

What school(s) do you go to?

Community college

What kind of student are you?

One of those booksmart people who squanders their potential because they’re also clinically depressed and kind of lazy

Do you like school?

More or less? I just have the motivation of a turnip.

Fav subject?

I’ve always loved history. Also going through the vet tech program I learned that I really love Veterinary Diseases

Fav TV shows?

Aside from The Magicians, I really love The Umbrella Academy. The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina is also a good one. I was super into Leverage, may that show rest in peace. Also I’m trash so I like The Vampire Diaries (granted just for the characters, especially at the point I started watching where it was actually pretty garbage. You think Sera is bad? Wait til you meet Julie Plec.)

As for cartoons... I still watch ‘em and have some I really like: Bojack Horseman, Star vs the Forces of Evil, Rick and Morty, Steven Universe, Gravity Falls, the list does go on. I’m really into animation. 

Fav books?

I LOVE LOVE LOVE The Monstrumologist series by Rick Yancey and have since high school. If they made an adaptation for it for TV I will scream and shit myself (though I’ll also be very worried about them fucking it up and will never be happy with the casting for Pellinore Warthrop since I have a highly specific image of him in my head)

Fav pastimes?

I write. A lot... not that anyone who follows me on a03 would believe me. I also like creative stuff and puzzles (jigsaw, crossword, sudoku, it doesn’t matter). I’m also that person who has a million stupid games on their phone at any given time. 

Do you have any regrets?

Yeah, but you’re not my therapist so I won’t put you through that story

Dream job?

I mean, I don’t really have a “dream job” but my most realistic job aspect is veterinary technician. Not that I don’t have any other passions to fall back on.

Would you ever like to be married?

Yeah, but I’d probably only get married in the type of relationship where it’s like “we’ve been together for a really long time so we may as well?”

Would you like to have children?

Not really, but I won’t deny that it may happen one day. If I had a dick I definitely would. But as someone with a uterus every aspect of pregnancy and birth causes me so much discomfort at the thought of it happening to me so no thank you

If so, how many?

Only one or two. I could never imagine myself having more than that. 

Do you like shopping?

With my mom? No, it makes me wanna gut myself with a melon baller. But I do when I’m by myself... it’s the spending money part I don’t like. 

What countries have you visited?

None. I’ve literally never been outside of the US. I’m very confined to a certain stretch of the East Coast and have never been outside of that. My parents used to travel a lot but they ended that once they had me (not that I was an accident, they basically got all of that out of their system before settling down). 

Scariest nightmare you’ve ever had?

I really HATE those nightmares where all your teeth fall out; you probably know what I’m talking about since they’re not uncommon. I’m pretty sure I had one like that (I can’t tell if it was stress related or me thinking that my metal filling darkening was my teeth straight-up rootting) but I remember my teeth falling out, spitting up blood, then falling and hitting my head on the vanity. SO yeah fuck teeth dreams

Any enemies?

I had one in high school but not since then. 

Do you have a significant other?

No, not that I don’t want one. I’m just a very anti social person who doesn’t go anywhere and has no IRL friends

Do you get along with your family?

My parents, yes. Even if we do bump heads because my mom is super passive aggressive and my dad, while chill most of the time, can be very short when he’s tired or stressed. Look, if you live with someone 24/7 you’re bound to want to murder them a lot. I do get along with a few members of my extended family but I could not even BEGIN to tell you how fucked up all of them are. Let’s just say it involves scams, thefts, murder, and good old fashion personality defects. Also a LOT of crazy religious people. 

Do you believe in miracles?

No, just serendipity. 

How are you?

Still sad about the finale but I currently have enough sugar in my bloodstream to kill a diabetic instantly so I’m good I guess

I tag whoever the fuck wants to answer these questions

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #331

my head hurts way too badly to think up some intro lyrics, so just g’night.

Have you ever become good friends with someone you never met in person? Oh yeah, I've had best friends over the Internet. Hell, I'm closer to many online friends than I am most irl ones. They know "the real me" more. What do you consider your default mood to be? Stressed, probably. Discontent. What’s the longest amount of time you’ve ever kept a goldfish alive for? Not long. Proper goldfish husbandry is a very neglected topic, and I sure as hell never knew how to set up its tank adequately. Have you ever been paintballing? No, don't plan to. It looks like it hurts like a bitch. Do you want a large wedding? No. Did you ever collect any sort of cards? I had a very small collection of Pokemon cards. I didn't collect them avidly. What’re the best and worst books you ever had to read for a class? The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton was the best. The worst was some book we had to read in the 6th grade about a kid during some war that moved around a lot... I don't remember the name or who wrote it, but it sucked. What’s the best meal you had at an amusement park, or If you haven’t been to one, how about a good meal at another place like a zoo, aquarium or museum? I don't know. I haven't been to many. Who, whether a person or company, emails you the most? My PHP therapist emails me a check-in sheet and Zoom link every day there's a therapy session. What kind of sound or noise freaks you out the most and why do you think it scares you? Let's seeeee... I don't know if there's a sound that actually freaks me out. There are some I don't like, but none that like, frighten me. At least that I can think of. What’s the strangest art piece you’ve come across? Biiiitch there's a painting in Amnesia: A Machine for Pigs I'm not gonna go into, but shit fuckin wild. What’s the most clever or unique name you’ve come across for a business? I've definitely heard some cool ones, but I don't know about one that really stands out to answer this. If you had to name one of your hypothetical future children after a song, which song would you pick? Maybe like... okay, I'm blanking. Good thing I'm not having kids to name then, right? What’s the last song you heard? "Down in the Park" by Marilyn Manson is on atm. What is your favorite line from a TV show? *shrug* Any current family issues? No. How many hours do you spend online a day? How do you feel about that? I'm doing something on the computer pretty much... always. I hate it, and I hate it a lot. I don't want my life to be tied solely to the digital plane. I want to do more than bounce back and forth from website to website. Do you think that people have the power to make their own lives better? Absolutely, but there are some things they simply cannot change. It's about perspective and how you play the deck you're dealt. What is the biggest problem in your life right now? Right now, the most limiting thing is my physical health, probably. Just walking being torture affects my ability to exercise, and my body is a major reason - if not the biggest, at this current time - for my depression. This also plays a massive role in jobs I can handle. Not to sound like my emo self writing middle school poetry, but my body feels like a prison. Do you feel that you are loved? I know I am by some people, though I have a hard time understanding why a lot. What is the one thing you want most from life? Life satisfaction. Pride in what I've accomplished. A regular state of being content. Birthplace? I'm just gonna say in eastern NC. Do you believe in love at first sight? No, merely infatuation. Love is much too deep for that. Do you think dreams eventually come true? Some can, but usually only if you put effort into making that so. Favorite fictional character? like ummmmmmmm have you heard of this sassy bastard called Darkiplier- Go to the movies or rent? Before Covid, I loved going to the theater. It was something to do, plus a giant screen is nice. McDonalds or Burger King? McD's. I'm not a big BK fan. I only really went there during my vegetarian phase for the veggie burger. Current annoyance? This motherfucking headache. Last thing you ate? I have a meal replacement shake with me right now, if you consider that "eating." I didn't have a proper dinner. The last solid food I had though was some cookies and cream Greek yogurt. Last thing you bought? With my own money, I think I bought Mom and I some cheap McDonald's order semi-recently? Or maybe paying my $100 deposit for my tattoo was most recent, idk. Soonest thing you are looking forward to? For Mom to get her CT scan and find out what's going on in there. What did you do today? It was a pretty average day. I woke up way too early, though. The only thing even semi-unique about today was I played World of Warcraft for a few hours again; I've been quite unattached to it lately, but I went through an episode today of actually having fun playing. Oh, and I've been battling a migraine. It's more of a severe headache now, at least, but it still sucks big time. Do you like to see it snowing outside? Oh yes, absolutely! When you were in high school did you ever have bomb threats? I believe once we did from a very volatile student that honestly caused quite a lot of trouble. He's dead now. Who knows ALL of your secrets? Nobody. Did you have a job before you were in college? No. Have you ever thought about what it would be like to have a baby right now? That's a terrifying thought, no. Are you on birth control? Yeah, but just because it tames my menstrual cramps. Without it, they could be debilitating some days. Who is your last sent text to? My best fren. Have you ever eaten at Chipotle before? Possibly? Idr. Do you swear often? Excessively. I had a dirty mouth prior, but my swearing got really bad when I started staying at Jason's house a lot. He and especially his mother swear like mad. Do you own any shirts with a peace symbol on it? No. Do you have your national flag hanging up anywhere outside your house? Not at this house, no. Would you ever go to Japan? Oh, yes. I would love to. It's... very morbid, but I would really like to walk the (public) paths of Aokigahara Forest, nicknamed "Suicide Forest" for the horrible amount of, well, suicides that happen there via hanging. Like, you might just casually run into a dead body. I want to just... feel it there, walk in silence and empathize with people who didn't know what else to do and hope so deeply that those departed know they were never alone in their pain. I know with absolute certainty I'd probably be teary-eyed the whole time and cry a whoooole lot, but it's just an experience I want to have. What was the last thing you went to Walmart for? Some basic groceries. What should you be doing right now? Sleeping, given this headache... I just don't want to yet. Are you afraid of getting your heart broken? I'm fucking terrified of that ever happening again, far more than words can properly express. Have you ever been in a choir? Yes, actually; when I was a Catholic kid, my sisters and I were in the church choir for a year or so, idr. Do you have a Twitter? Yes, but only to like Mark's tweets, haha. Oh, and very rarely enter giveaways I'm interested in. Describe your retainers to me, if you have them, that is. I have a permanent metal one behind my front row of bottom teeth to keep those straight. My upper teeth had one of those normal retainers you take in and out, but I didn't wear it enough, so now it doesn't even fit. Would you like for someone to call you right now? No. I'm tired, my head hurts, and I'm enjoying the song I'm bingeing. It's so weird, I rarely ever go on music hunting trips (no real reason, I just... don't), but I've found great shit lately. Do you like to brush your teeth? No; it's a chore. I only do it because I don't want my teeth decaying, falling out, or getting too yellow, and the taste in your mouth and gritty texture on your teeth isn't exactly great when you don't brush. Have you ever had a surgery? Two. Give out your phone number over the internet? I have over private messages. Do you look older or younger than you actually are? Given my wardrobe (like graphic tees and band shirts), I probably look younger in the eyes of especially older people. I personally say I look my age, though. When is the next time you’ll be up on stage? I never plan to be again. What is the last show that you watched a full episode of? Some cooking show with Mom. Nailed It!, I think? Do you know anyone who lives in Utah? No. I love Utah, though; it's actually a place I'd be willing to live in with just how pretty it is and not super populated. Do you get your feelings hurt easily? VERY. I'm probably one of the most sensitive people you can meet. Do you still talk to the person you last made out with? Yeah. Have you ever seen your best friend cry? Ugh, yes. What kind of vitamins did you take as a kid? First we took those nasty, chalky Flintstones kinds, but as time passed, Mom moved onto giving us gummy bear vitamins that were perfectly fine. Did you get any compliments today? No. Are you friends with your neighbors? Not "friends," no. What towns have you lived in? Three different ones. That's all you're getting. Have you ever thrown up from drinking? No. Done any illegal drugs? No. I mean I've had some alcohol underage, but I've never done anything remotely hardcore. What’s the longest amount of time you’ve been on an airplane without changing flights? Idk. Who have you texted today? My mom and best friend. What time did you wake up this morning? Ugh, like five in the fucking morning. I couldn't go back to sleep. What is your favorite condiment to go with french fries? Ketchup. What do you have a habit of doing when engaging in a conversation with someone? Making shitty eye contact, and I'm one of those people who "talks with [their] hands." I also lose my train of thought a whoooole lot. Have you ever layed in a hammock? Yeah; we had one growing up. Have you ever lost a pet in a tragic way? How did you cope? Well yeah, I've had lots of pets, so thus lost some in particularly painful ways. The most scarring loss of a pet though is as follows: Teddy, my dog, picked up one of our cat's very young, wandering kittens in his jaws in a manner that looked as if he was trying to carry it like Aphrodite (the mother cat) does when she would bring them back behind the couch, where she gave birth/had her little "nest." I absolutely freaked and had to pry the kitten from his mouth, and it slowly died in my hands. I think Teddy accidentally crushed its ribs. I. Was. A. Mess. Then, there was Aphrodite herself. I've told the story before of our former neighbors calling animal control because our cats would wander through their yard, and all of our cats were taken away while I was unaware at school. Came home, and they were all gone. Aphrodite was my baby, so I was devastated. Screaming, sobbing, cursing on the porch for like 20 minutes... It was awful. What type of curtains do you like? I don't... know? I don't know the actual names of any types... What type of quality is a must-have in a friend? I absolutely cannot be friends with someone who thinks they're above everyone else. Are you any good at reading someone's body language? I think I am. What goes good with a nice cold glass of milk? Cookies! Especially Oreos. Dip it in there for around five seconds, and it's perfection. What fruit is too sweet to you? Grapefruit came to mind first. How did you feel after your first kiss? I had butterflies galore and was so giddy and smiley. After the first, I just wanted to kiss him a billion more times. What’s your favorite constellation and why? I don't have one. Shower curtain or door? Curtain. The glass doors are too revealing. Have you ever thought to yourself that you’re the luckiest person in the world? Most deeeeefinitely not. What time of day do you most enjoy looking at the sky? Sunset if there are clouds present, but sunrise if the sky is pretty clear.

[daisylovesatla]

As an American I cannot tell you the number of times I haven’t been able to seek medical care because I can’t afford it. My dad’s dentures broke and he’s going to have to pay $2,500 out of pocket to get a new set. He literally cannot eat anything other than smoothies or blended up food without his dentures and he has to pay $2,500 to get access to fucking teeth. He has to get a surgery for his kidney stones and has to wait until November because he was laid off last year due to Covid-19 and has to start the period over for when his job will give him insurance again...he has type 2 diabetes, sleep apnea, COPD, and his lung collapsed about 5 or 6 years ago...and he doesn’t fucking have insurance. He also has horrific eye sight and bifocals as well. He almost went into a diabetic coma when he first got diabetes because he couldn’t afford to go to the doctor and was pushing it off for as long as he could.

I haven’t been to the dentist in well over a year bc I can’t afford it, I can’t get my wisdom teeth out now before it causes me even more problems in the future because whose going to pay for it? I sure as hell can’t. I lost my retainer between moves and my adoptive parents were going to make me pay to replace it myself despite it being upwards of $600 and I was only working 10-15 hours a week at $8.60 an hour plus tips. Now my teeth are going back to being as crooked as they were before the $5,000 my parents spent on my braces slowly but surely and I can’t afford to get even an Invisalign to reverse the damage that...you guessed it...does cause me the occasional toothache bc my teeth are literally moving again.

I can’t afford my therapy, or my medication, or literally any of the healthcare i need so I just straight up ignore my medical bills and let them go into collection bc what else am I supposed to do? If I stop going to college for a medical leave of absence they completely cut me off from any support including insurance...meaning I can’t get medical care to get better to be able to go back to school because I won’t have insurance to pay the exorbitant prices for doctors visits where they basically just refer me out to other doctors with no answers. I’ve been dealing with chronic back pain for well over a year at this point in my tailbone and it’s taken me so long just to get past my own fears about finances and medical trauma as a fat disabled trans AFAB person to even start to seek treatment for it. My doctors have all dismissed me for my mental health struggles even when they’ve almost killed me multiple times...I had a doctor literally mock me and make a joke to my mother about keeping staplers out of my reach while the wounds were still fresh and raw on my arm from self harming...he literally called the people in inpatient crazy to my face and laughed about it.

I haven’t gotten my eyes checked in nearly 2 years despite being certain my prescription has changed because it would have cost me $1,000 out of pocket for additional coverage to see an eye doctor, my school doesn’t provide dental, and makes me go through ridiculously difficult hoops to get it paid for due to my executive dysfunction. I’ve had chronic pain all over my body for at least a decade at this point with no answers and no way I can possibly afford getting them.

The medical system in this country is actually hell on earth. I hate living in the United States. They don’t care if we live or die unless we can pay ridiculous amounts of money to live and most of us can’t.

Don’t even get me started on access to top surgery which I desperately want and need for my dysphoria but because I am fat it is very likely doctors will refuse to perform the surgery on me. So I’m stuck in purgatory in a body that fills me with dysphoria, and I can’t wear binders because of how much worse it makes my back pain I still don’t have answers for. I had to hang up on a receptionist just so I could cry at my frustration over her not listening to me and then demand for her to stop ignoring what I had to tell her about the differences in my pain after she threatened to cancel the appointment because I was being “hostile” even though she was the one yelling at me first. I was scolded for seeking affordable tele health for my migraines despite it taking months and months to get an appointment with a neurologist and I just needed something to stop me from having migraines that made it impossible to work or focus on anything but the pain. Medication i can’t afford, even though it’s only $15 a month.

Sickening. Literally.

AND a race one since the most affected regions will be Africa, Asia and Oceania

[mainaisikyunnhoon-blog]

a life of danger

haHA idk what this is guys but. i was too impatient to actually write the whole thing before posting so!!! here have a snippet of some jungkook-the-agent and jin-his-handler fic

rated t for ‘totally rad’ and the genre is honestly just ‘jin and jungkook bantering to express their love’ (w Feelings to come in later installments) 

title is (of COURSE) from ‘secret agent man’ 

i’m not a secret agent so uhhh none of this is even remotely realistic i’m invoking artistic license here 

One of the first things you learn at the academy is how to tune out distractions.

There’s always too much going on in the world, which is why the ability to take it all in, pick out all the relevant information, and tune out everything else is so important. Distraction at the wrong time — focusing on something stupid rather than what you should be focusing on — can, and has, led to death. All good operatives practice doing this until it’s ingrained.

Jungkook’s a good operative. A fantastic one. One of the best, even, and that isn’t arrogance, it’s just the truth.

There’s one thing, however, that all his training, all his instincts, all his will can never tune out:

“You know, you need to go out more often,” Jin says through the earpiece. “It’s unhealthy, the way you refuse to socialize with anyone.”

“You know what else is unhealthy?” Jungkook says, voice a hush as he continues trying to crack the safe. Safe-cracking isn’t his expertise — those are more long the lines of get in, kick ass, get out — so frustration’s welling within him as it takes longer than he wants, and Jin isn’t helping. “Your obsession with me. Why are you even keeping track of my socializing habits?”

“First of all,” Jin starts, and there’s so much indignation in his voice, Jungkook’s lips twitch as he thinks about the way Jin’s probably gesticulating, the expression he’s wearing as he talks to a set of computers in a dark room with no one around, “I’m not obsessed with you, and honestly, if you think this is obsession, says more about you than it does about me. Second of all, I know about your socialization habits because gossip is currency and secret agents are even better at it than the old woman that used to live across the street when I was growing up, so I don’t go looking for this information, it just appears in my lap.”

“Just appears in your lap.” Imagining Jin’s face as Jungkook scoffs — Jin hates being scoffed at; this is why Jungkook makes sure to do it as often as possible — makes the smirk grow on his face, and he adds for the finishing touch: “Is that the defense you use when accused of anything? ‘No, no, sir, I wasn’t bothering this woman, she just appeared in my lap.’”

Seconds go by as Jin makes incoherent, outraged sounds. “I know how to respect women! I’m not a disrespectful, rude brat like you! I have never had a complaint, thank you very much, and never will, because I’m capable of interacting with normal people like a normal person, not like an emotionally constipated — constipated asshole.”

“You? Normal?” This time, scoffing is even easier. “Right, of course.”

Mission accomplished — Jin is now ranting about Respecting your elders and Learning some manners and Not being a mouthy smartass — Jungkook has an easier time focusing, Jin’s voice washing over him, bringing familiar words with it, and it isn’t too long before he finally cracks the safe.

Showy celebrations are amateur, so all he allows himself is a small, “Nice,” nodding in satisfaction as he reaches in to grab the paper documents, the content of which he was told he ‘didn’t need to know.’ The urge to look is hard to resist, but he shuts the safe and slips the documents into his pocket, straightening out his suit jacket and running a hand through his hair, checking his reflection out in the window to make sure he looks good.

As always, he does.

Most of the building is glass — he hates it, hates feeling so exposed, hates the bullshit bougie modern art concept it’s designed on — which means the walls serve as one giant window; as soon as he leaves the room with the safe, he’s assaulted by sunlight and he wrinkles up his nose, says, “Too bright.”

“Yes, sunlight is bright. Maybe you’ll finally grow old enough to develop object permanence and retain this information.”

“Sunlight isn’t an object,” Jungkook says, “so what does object permanence have to do with anything?”

There’s silence for a beat. “You know what,” Jin says, and then stops.

“Yes, I know ‘what’ — it’s a word often used to ask about information.” The building’s a maze of hallways, as if M.C. Escher himself designed it, and then Jungkook realizes he just thought about M.C. Escher outside of an art history class and resolves to spend less time with Tae.

“Actually,” Jin says, “ ‘what’ has sixteen different definitions, and you only gave me one, which means you don’t know what.” The best part of it is, he sounds smug.

“Did… did you seriously look up ‘what’ in the dictionary,” Jungkook says, offering a polite nod to the woman who passes him by in the hallway, looking him up and down.

“Yes,” Jin says, “and I don’t see why you’re asking me as if I’ve done something ridiculous.”

“You are ridiculous. Everything you do is ridiculous, because you are ridiculous,” Jungkook says, taking the stairs down. The interview he’s here for is on the third floor; he only has five minutes to make it down from the fourteenth, so he sprints, footsteps echoing in the stairwell.

“No, I’m Jin.” A beat passes as Jungkook sighs, and Jin starts laughing.

A cackling Jin in his ear isn’t the most conducive to a professional interview, so he says, “Stop laughing or I’m gonna have to cut the line,” and steps out of the staircase, discreetly slipping the documents into the recycling bin where someone will come to collect them.

“Don’t you fucking dare cut the line. I will surgically sew an earpiece to your ear if you try to do that again,” Jin says as Jungkook smiles at the lady at the front desk, excuses about how he got lost and how confusing the building is pouring out of his mouth, and the lady — Jan, her nametag reads — waves them all away.

“Don’t worry! You’re just in time, please have a seat as I inform them you’ve arrived,” she says, chipper, and Jungkook nods at her.

Taking a seat in the corner chair, Jungkook covers his mouth, whispers, “Then stop talking, and I won’t cut the line. Also, we’re sure I have to actually go through with the interview?” It isn’t that he’s nervous or anything — he just knows he’s completely out of his depth here, knows he’s going to bomb it because he doesn’t really know enough to convincingly bullshit, and he hates feeling incompetent, even if it doesn’t really matter.

Silence.

“Jin.”

More silence.

“Jin, answer.”

“Oh, you want me to answer?” Jin says, voice dripping with mock surprise. “But you said stop talking.”

“Jin.” If he’s whining a little bit, well, it’s justified.

“Yes,” Jin says, “we’re sure, because if anyone happens to find out today was the day the documents were taken, an interviewee disappearing after ‘getting lost’ would be suspicious.”

“That’s crossed paranoid and landed straight into conspiracy theory territory.”

A pause, and they both sigh, “Namjoon.”

“If he wasn’t such a good person, I’d hate him,” Jin says, and Jungkook makes a small hum of agreement, eyes scanning the room. The lady reappears, then, followed by a man in an expensive-looking suit and an I’m more important than you vibe, and Jungkook smiles, stands, holds out his hand.

The customary greetings are exchanged, and before Jungkook’s led into the back, Jin says, “You’re probably going to make a fool of yourself, but remember — you don’t actually have to do good, you can just bullshit and fail.”

Since Jungkook’s still talking to the man, nodding along with what he says, he can only grit his teeth at Jin’s words. A couple moments later, Jin says in a high-pitched voice: “Wow, Jin, you’re so smart and encouraging! I wouldn’t be able to tie my shoelaces without your guidance.” A pause. “That was you, by the way.”

“Yes, Jungkook, I am smart and encouraging and you would fail at life if not for my generous guidance,” Jin continues, deepening his voice enough Jungkook has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing. “I’m also handsome and hilarious and cooler than you’ll ever be.”

“Oh, Jin, you’re so right! As always! I promise to listen to you more often and give you the respect you deserve.” Jin’s Jungkook impersonation has Jungkook biting down harder, hoping he can pass off the smile threatening to break out on his face as excitement for the job.

“Ah, and here we are,” the man says, flashing Jungkook an insincere smile as he opens the door to a conference room.

There are two men, one woman seated at the table, all looking at Jungkook as if he just burst in wearing a clown suit and honking a horn. Anxiety buzzes under his skin, no matter how hard he tries to ignore it — he fucking hates feeling stupid, especially in front of assholes.

“Alright, brat. Remember you can kill all of the people in the room within a matter of minutes if they start laughing at you, and maybe take this opportunity to fuck with them instead of actually trying.”

Jungkook wants to say thanks — a sarcastic thanks, even if he means it sincerely — but instead he takes a deep breath, breaks out his most charming smile, and introduces himself.

Jin knows how Jungkook feels, anyway; he doesn’t need to say it aloud. It’s why they work so well together.

i’ve never actually written jungkook and he's kind of the member i’ve thought about the least?? idk how i feel about his characterization but. he’s a fun character to explore let’s see where this leads 

anyway thanks for reading!!! pls lmk what you thought