#i still go by mr. nice guy because i think he's the most central to me. like he's the 'protagonist' of goody gardens so to speak | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jincherie · 4 years ago

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sunshine riptide | ot7

— COMMISSION —

⊙ — pairing: ot7 x reader ⊙ — genre: hybrid au, fluff, comfort, found family, ac inspired ⊙ — wc: 13.8k+ ⊙ — warnings: oc has an almost/light anxiety attack towards the end. there is no explicitly mentioned trigger and it isn’t dwelled on for long, but better to let u guys know! ⊙ — notes: here it is! it’s soft, and warm, and I hope that it can be something to cheer up a little bit those who aren’t having such a good day. i love u all, and I hope you like this piece :) to the commissioner, thank you for allowing me to write this and I truly hope it helps you feel even just a little bit better! <3

Moving to this island whose inhabitants are mostly hybrids was a bit of an impulse decision, something you did with empty pockets barely a cent to your name. Thanks to the kindness of the island’s ‘mayor’ you have a place to stay, the last spare room in a sharehouse with seven hybrids, and for three months he will pay your rent in exchange for you to work in his shop until you are back on your feet. It’s a sweet deal, but when you begin to get along better than expected with your housemates and the deadline for your departure looms ever closer, you’re not sure you’re going to be able to make yourself leave when the time comes.

— posted; 06.09.2020 | masterlist

“So in exchange for three months paid stay on the island while you get back on your feet, you will work part-time at the Rabbits Den three days a week, and man the desk in the Resident Services Building on Sundays. Is that okay to you?”

You nod eagerly, the ordeal seeming too good to be true and something you’re afraid will be retracted if you don’t act with haste. Mr Bang returns your motion with a little less fervour, the same kind look never leaving his face.

“Perfect, it’s settled then! We’re glad to have you with us, y/n.”

Something lifts from your chest in that moment, as though you’d been walking beneath the cover of a lead blanket and it has finally slipped from your shoulders. You feel a little breathless, and you know the grin that slips onto your face is stupidly wide. Embarrassingly, you feel salty pricks at the corner of your eyes.

“Thank you so much,” you say, and you mean it. It hadn’t exactly been a well thought out plan, moving here with nothing to your name but your most basic possessions, but you’d just needed to escape and start anew and this… this had been the first opportunity you’d seen. The best opportunity you’d seen. “Really, thank you.”

“You’re more than welcome, young lady.” Mr Bang’s expression grows even softer, if possible. “This is a place people come to find refuge, and happiness. You’re welcome here.”

You clear your throat, turning your head to the side and pretending that you need to cough so he doesn’t see the tear that slips out. You have a feeling he knows, though, as you turn back and find him smiling at you, floppy rabbit ears framing his round face. He reaches out, patting you on the shoulder.

“Now, lets find you a room for the night. I’ll send word to the house I have in mind and make sure they have it nice and tidy before your arrival tomorrow. Sound good?”

It hits you only now how tired you are, more emotionally exhausted than anything, and nod while allowing him to lead you down the hall. That does sound good, actually. That sounds amazing.

O – O – O

You’d arrived on this island in the early hours of the morning yesterday, the late-night ferry the only one that runs to this island on the outskirts of the archipelago. It’s likely due to the fact that the captain is a nocturnal hybrid, and hence prefers to run his business under the cover of night. You hadn’t been able to sleep on the trip over, so when Mr Bang had shown you to the room he was happy to lend you for the night, despite it being barely ten o’clock in the morning you’d passed out the second your head hit the pillow. It was more of a nap than anything, but you suspect that the events of the past few months all caught up to you at once because you woke only for dinner and then fell asleep once more. Mr Bang offered no judgement, and simply left a note instructing you where the bathroom is and where you could find towels so that you could freshen up once you awoke. He also left you a coffee bun in a container, since you’d missed the afternoon tea he held the day before.

You hadn’t even been on this island a day and already the kindness of one of the residents was almost bringing you to tears.

Due to the fact that you’d slept far too early, you end up waking up at an ungodly hour the next day, the day you are meant to be moving in to the sharehouse that Mr Bang told you about. Laying in the bed, nestled in the warmth of the covers and watching as the suns rays slowly begin to stain the ceiling and the curtains in rich marigold, you do your best to get yourself together. You can breathe easy now, any anxiety you’d felt previous now nothing more than an echo in your chest. You feel refreshed, and not just from the ridiculous amount of sleep you’ve had in the past twenty-four hours. There are of course some nerves pertaining to meeting your new housemates, but it’s manageable. You have faith that everything will turn out well. It’s a good feeling.

Mr Bang is kind enough to offer you breakfast, and likely would have pushed you to stay for lunch had you not shown up down the stairs with your baggage already in tow. So begrudgingly, he allows you to head on your way, informing you that your new housemates knew of your arrival and had endeavoured to tidy up as much as possible. You thought it was a little funny he was telling you that—just how messy is the house usually?—but he simply shook his head with a smile that told you the answer would come soon enough.

The island isn’t big, but it most definitely isn’t small. The sun is warm and the air cool with a tinge of salt and sea trailing along the breeze, and the path you walk along that skirts the beach is peppered with sand and the odd shell. It makes you happier than anticipated, because just being out here makes you feel so free. Mr Bang told you that the house where you will be staying is on the other side of the island, past the little cluster of shops and small businesses and perched at the edge of the sand, backing onto a river that flows into the ocean and skirted on one side by a small cliff.

“It’s their own little alcove,” Mr Bang had snorted, a mixture of fondness and amusement evident on his features. “They get up to more trouble than I can keep track of over there, but they’re good boys.”

Ah, that’s right. You’d almost forgotten; your new housemates are a bunch of boys. You hope that Mr Bang is right about their character and you won’t be living in discomfort for the next three months.

The path wound and curved a bit, following the edge of the island, and before long you were walking through a section of light forestry. You suspected the house would be on the other side, and were in the midst of thinking just what it would look like when a small squeak! catches your attention and you halt, almost dropping your bag.

It’s silent, save for the way the breeze caresses the leaves around you. You peer around, eyes unable to spot anything in the foliage. Did you imagine it? It’s a little early in your stay to be going crazy. Hesitantly, you adjust your grip on your bag and resume your trek.

Squeak! S-squeeeak!

No, you definitely heard that. You freeze, having gotten a better sense of where the sound is coming from now and turning towards a large tree smothered in vines of varying thickness and clinginess. For a moment, you don’t see anything, eyes squinting hard—it’s like one of those I spy books you used to rave about as a kid— and just when you think you might be looking in the wrong place, you catch movement.

There, in a cluster of the vines dangling from one of the tree’s thicker limbs, is a tiny creature, all tangled up and squeaking in distress.

“Oh my goodness,” you drop your bag, immediately moving closer. “Poor thing—hold on just a second, bub. I’ll get you out. Promise not to bite me?”

The creature offers a squeak and logically you know it isn’t answering your request, but you pretend it is anyway. Carefully stepping over plants and twigs, thanking past you for wearing more practical boots, you reach where the creature is stuck, dangling just below eye level.

The vines it has managed to get all tangled up in aren’t particularly thick, but there are a lot of them, and it has managed to get a few of its limbs stuck in place. Carefully, you snap a few of the more central ones and ease the tiny thing out, getting a better view of it the more you pull from its body. It’s squeaking all the while, though with much less distress and more of an energy that simply feels chatty. It makes you smile.

“There you go,” you murmur, cradling the tiny baby in your palms and cooing, trying to calm the heartbeat and hurried breaths you can feel racing against your skin. You stroke along its back as lightly as you can manage. “Oh, you’re a little sugar glider! You’re so pretty, such a cutie. Look at your markings, wow… so pretty.”

Almost as though it can understand your praise and is basking in it, it flicks its bushy tail and rolls in your palm, like a cat rubbing against something with its cheek except this little glider is doing it with its whole body. It’s awfully friendly, you note. Perhaps much of the wildlife here is more peacefully accustomed to human and hybrid activity.

“Okay, you’re free now. I’ll stop ogling at you and let you go,” you say, holding your hands up to a part of the tree that isn’t covered in vines lest there be a repeat of the earlier situation. The sugar glider merely blinks, eyes still on you, and doesn’t move. Brows drawn in confusion, you move your hands closer to the tree, “Well, aren’t you going to—oh!”

Faster than you can react, the little thing darts from your hands, leaping to your bicep and scurrying up with tiny claws in your shirt to your shoulder. Once at its apparent destination, it rushes to the crook of your neck and makes itself at home, nestling against you and securing itself with its tail partway around the back of your neck and its little paws clutching your shirt edge. You giggle, still in shock and trying not to jostle it off as you fight the ticklish sensation.

“Okay. I guess you can come with me. I’m not sure if you can stay the whole while, but I’m sure it will be okay while I walk.”

So off you go, bending and retrieving your bag carefully so you don’t dislodge your tiny new companion. You’ve seen a bit of sugar gliders, but the way this one is acting is quite peculiar. If it sticks around until you arrive at the house, you’d love to snap a quick picture because it really is so pretty, so cute.

The trip is faster than anticipated, now there is something else to occupy your thoughts. Before you know it you’re out of the forestry and approaching a large, modern three storey building that is probably just a few yards short of a mansion, nestled between the ocean, the river, and a short cliff-face just barely higher than the roof. This is the place for sure.

The little glider seems to perk up, the closer you get, something that surprises you since it was so quiet you thought it was asleep. With a soft noise, it grabs onto your hair with tiny paws and scurries to the top of your head, likely making a mess of it in the process but it’s so cute you can’t bring yourself to mind. At least it will be an interesting first impression.

As you approach the front door, you think you see movement in one of the windows on the ground floor. You almost dismiss it as you reach the eve, until you catch the hurried patter of feet against hardwood from beyond the door.

You barely manage to blink before the door is flying open, a man with raven curls and two fluffy russet ears peeking between the locks presenting you with the biggest grin you have ever seen on anyone’s face. It’s boyish and cute, a direct contrast to the mature, sculpted features of his face.

“Hello!” he says, and you catch sight of a long, fluffy russet tail whipping behind him and betraying his excitement—not that he was doing much to hide it. “You must be the new roomie! It’s nice to meet you! We’ve been waiting all morning, and one of us actually went to pick you up but… I’m not sure where he is.”

You’re a little overwhelmed but easily recover when he simply keeps looking at you so happily, returning the man’s bright smile. There’s rustling in your hair at the back of your head but you ignore it, adjusting your grasp on your bag. “Ah, thank you. I’m y/n, it’s nice to meet you…?”

The man pulls back, a sheepish look on his face that accompanies a light flush in his cheeks. “Oh, right. I’m Taehyung. Sorry. My hyungs tell me I tend to get a bit ahead of myself sometimes.”

You keep the smile on your face. “That’s okay, we got there in the end. It’s nice to meet you, Taehyung.”

Taehyung brightens, tail curling happily behind him. He opens his mouth to say something, but is interrupted from a voice to the side.

“Are you going to make our poor new housemate wait outside all day, Tae?”

The light blush colouring Taehyung’s cheeks deepens, a sheepish laugh escaping. “No. I was just about to invite her in!”

He steps back and reveals the person behind him who had spoken, a tall man with dimples and silvery hair that did little to conceal the large, rounded grey ears atop his head. He seems a little awkward in his stance, like he has more body than he knows what to do with, but still extends an arm in greeting with a kind smile. “y/n, is it? Welcome, please come in. I hope you’ll enjoy your stay here with us, however brief. We’re happy to have you.”

Don’t cry, don’t cry! If you cry now you can never show your face here again. You clear your throat, returning his smile as you step inside and out of the sun, the difference in temperature against your skin immediate. “Thank you, I really appreciate your generosity in letting me stay here.”

“Nonsense,” Taehyung snorts, “Namjoon-hyung has been saying for months we should find someone to fill the spare room, and now you show up on our doorstep! It’s perfect.”

The taller, who Taehyung had referenced as Namjoon, seems a little bashful, his cheeks heating. Does everyone in this house blush so easily? You hope it’s not contagious.

There is movement in your hair again, the glider apparently needing to breathe, and you have your mouth open ready to explain when Namjoon beats you to it.

“Oh, I see you’ve met Jimin already!”

What?

The glider leaps from your head and onto Taehyung’s outstretched arm, climbing to his head before leaping from that too and gliding through the air, all the way around the corner. There is a small clutter, the sound of a light swearword entering the air, and then the ever-familiar patter of feet against hardwood. Another boy rounds the corner, ashy-blond hair tousled and parted by two small grey ears, bushy tail curling behind him.

He skids to a stop in front of you, dipping in a brief bow before rising and shooting you a bright smile. “Hello! Thank you for helping me! I’m Jimin, welcome home!”

It takes all of your willpower to keep the happy tears at bay as you tilt your head back and laugh, already feeling lighter than you ever remember feeling before.

O – O – O

Your next introductions to the hybrids you will be sharing your home with for the next three months go much smoother and without as many surprises as the last ones. Jimin, who seems to have warmed up to you quickly, was more than happy to take you on a tour of the house and to go through introductions while he was at it. He happily told you who was what hybrid as well, without you asking. You figured that he realised your underperforming human nose wouldn’t be able to tell, so he took the initiative and you’re thankful for it, because you were curious.

The oldest resident of the house is Seokjin, a red-panda hybrid who goes on a spree of stress-baking every time exam season rolls around. Most of the hybrids study online, as you learnt from Jimin’s excited chattering. The second you met Jin, as he preferred to be called, you were stunned at how handsome he was. Of course, any awe that rooted you to the spot quickly dissipated as he said a joke so painfully funny it left you with whiplash between the urge to roll your eyes and guffaw. You like him, though. He’s nice.

You quickly discover that all the inhabitants of this house are, though. Yoongi is the second oldest and a squirrel glider hybrid—something Jimin said he found funny since he was closest to Jimin, a sugar glider, and Hoseok, the third oldest and a sunny squirrel hybrid. He giggled as he told you, and you couldn’t hide your own smile even as Yoongi’s ear had flicked and he’d shot the two of you a suspicious look. The little fun fact Jimin had told you about Yoongi had taken you by surprise; he remotely operates the island’s radio, many of the tunes ones he has created himself. Often, if there is a festival, he will volunteer his time to work the music jobs there, too. Apparently Namjoon also pitches in, and Hoseok when he has free time outside of the classes he teaches on the other side of the island.

Hoseok is a dancer, Jimin had gushed, and while he teaches at the school part time, he also volunteers time outside of that to hold dance classes for the kids. Jimin told you that he joins occasionally, but less often lately since his workload for university has increased. He did tell you, though, that the youngest of the house had all but taken his place, his youthful heart at home mucking around with kids and helping them learn.

Jungkook is his name, and Jimin informed you with a very fond and very amused look that he is rather shy, so you might not see him for a few days. Apparently it had been uttered just loud enough for the hybrid in question to catch it though, because there was a tumbling sound from the floor above and a series of stomping footsteps. A head of long, wavy inky hair had popped over the railing, grey ears pinned back as a baby-faced boy delivered a glare to the blonde to your side.

“Hyung! That’s not true! I’m not too shy to even introduce myself!” he had defended himself avidly, red-faced and huffy. When his eyes turned to you, mouth open to follow through on his words, he abruptly shrank and all that escaped was a squeak. It took him a moment to conjure speech once more, and this time he was noticeably less bold. “I’m—I’m Jungkook! It’s nice to meet you! I have to go now! Goodbye!”

And then he was gone, and so concluded your final introduction to the residents you had yet to meet. You thought you had a good feeling when you first arrived, but now that you’ve met everyone and everything feels that bit more real, you find yourself thinking…

It’s a really good feeling.

O – O – O

“It’s not what it looks like!”

You raise a brow, book in hand as you stand at the edge of the sand bank where green bleeds into gold. Against your heels is cool grass, and your toes are dipped in the gentle warmth of the sand. Namjoon sits in front of you, beneath a tree protruding from the dune, with a bundle of leaves in his hand and a guilty look in his face.

“Isn’t eucalyptus toxic to humans and hybrids?”

“I’m not eating it!” Namjoon waves his hands in a frantic bid to assure you, eyes wide, and almost drops the leaves in question. His large, grey ears flick in his distress. “I was just… I know I can’t eat it but it smells so good… I was just sniffing it. It calms me.”

You let out a light laugh, walking closer and plopping down on the sand beside him, beneath the generous shade the tree offers. The sea breeze is kind and cools your skin where it smarts from the sun, tickling your neck and manipulating your hair into a tumbleweed. Namjoon snorts, helping you get it back in order.

“No judgement,” you say, crossing your legs and placing your book in your lap for the meantime. “Just wanted to make sure I wouldn’t have to take you to a hospital, because I do not know where to find one on this island.”

Namjoon grins, rosy cheeks complimenting his skin the way it glows gold in the sun’s glare. “You’d drag little ol’ me all the way to the hospital if you knew where it was?”

“Well, yeah,” you laugh, sifting sand through your fingers as you relish the sound of waves crashing barely a yard away. It’s so peaceful, you feel so at peace. “Since none of you seem to know what a car is.”

“We had a car,” Namjoon admits, face flushing violently as he averts his gaze, turning his head. “There was just, um, an unfortunate incident… that may have involved a tree, or two…”

You decide not to probe further, lest your current good impression of Namjoon come under threat. A beat of silence passes, before Namjoon shuffles, placing the bundle of leaves back on the grass. He angles his body a little more towards you, sniffing subtly.

“So… how is your stay so far? Is everything going okay?”

You can’t hide the expression of surprise that makes its way to your face as you turn to him, blinking. You don’t know what you were expecting, but for some reason it hadn’t been that. It’s awfully nice of him.

You’ve been on the island almost a week now. The interactions you’ve had with your housemates so far, though not too bountiful, have all been pleasant, and you genuinely have nothing to complain about. You haven’t seen much of Jungkook, Hoseok, or Yoongi—but that mostly comes down to incompatible work hours and commitments. Mr Bang’s nephews run the Rabbit’s Den, the local convenience store that occasionally hosts a few exotic goods, and they have been nothing short of helpful, polite, and friendly while you worked there. You have worked a single shift at the Resident Services Building too, and it was pretty chill. A few residents came in, happily introduced themselves to you, and then you helped them with whatever had warranted their visit. All in all, your stay has been amazing so far.

“It’s been good,” you say, and it feels so nice to have the words escaping your mouth be true to the warmth in your chest. “Everyone here is super nice. It does feel a bit odd though, sometimes I feel like I’m the only human here.”

“Oh, yeah. You are,” Namjoon huffs an amused laugh. “You’re the first human Mr Bang has allowed on this island.”

Your surprise is evident, and it makes him smile when he turns his head to give you a sly look. “He must have had a good feeling about you. Rabbit hybrids tend to rely a lot on their gut feelings and intuition.”

“Oh,” you say, cheeks warming. Well, you’re glad he had decided to let you in. You say as much to Namjoon, and he smiles brightly at you.

“We’re glad he decided to let you in, too.”

You’re not sure what to say to that, a little embarrassed from the unexpectedness of it—was he really telling the truth? You’d hardly spent any time with some of your other housemates…

A calm silence begins to settle between you, and you take the time to open your book and resume where you left off. You get so carried away reading that when you finally look up some time later, the sight to your side almost makes you gasp.

Namjoon had, at some point, fallen asleep in a little patch of sunlight that manage to pierce through the foliage—in the place of the large, long-limbed man you had been talking to is now a considerably smaller fluffy koala, sitting upright and snoozing lightly. You suspect this isn’t the most ideal position for him to be sleeping in, though, because every few moments he will sway on the spot, almost tipping but not quite going far enough to have an abrupt meeting with the sand.

You coo, unable to help it, but the sound quickly grows alarmed when he leans too far—before you can think your arms shoot out to hold him up, but it seems there is something true to what is said about koalas being clingy because the second he feels something touch him, koala Namjoon clings.

You squeak, a fully-grown koala now wrapped around your forearm. Slowly, you bring it closer to you (feeling your bicep burn all the while because damn is he heavier than he looks!), planning to use your other hand to ease him off, but it seems that the second you’re close enough he can sense your warmth and he wants in. You sit, exasperated and amused, with a koala now latched to your midriff, arm forgotten. Both your hands are now free, but at what cost?

You figure that he’ll probably let go when he wakes up, or he might fall back into the sand in his sleep, but until then you resign yourself to unexpected but definitely not unwelcome koala cuddles. You just hope he won’t be too embarrassed when he wakes up; you can already see him stuttering and going red in your mind’s eye. It brings a chuckle to your lips, and with a smile on your face you return to your book once more, a little more content than before.

O – O – O

It’s been a while since you’ve had to deal with the dreams.

Usually, once they start you can wake yourself up, or you can manage to turn them around if they’re one you’ve had before. But some nights, when the dreams come, you’re helpless but to see them play out. Sometimes they’re not that bad, but even the milder ones leave you with a nauseous ball of anxiety beneath your lungs and a feeling of discomfort that digs claws deep in your bones.

About three weeks into your stay, you wake up after one such dream, a cursory glance to your phone and the painful glare of its screen revealing it to be the early hours of the morning. For a moment you simply lay, blinking, with your gaze rooted on the ceiling. You had strung up some fairy lights around your dresser, and on the plaster above you the soft colourful rainbow of their hue meshes and blends with the cool pools of moonlight slipping through your curtains.

Absently, and with a sense of resignation that you feel in your bones, you strip the cover back and climb out of bed, deciding you may as well grab some water since you’re likely not going to be able to fall asleep very easily anytime soon.

As you make your way through the levels to the ground floor where the kitchen resides, you’re careful to be as quiet as possible—you’re not sure how successful your effort is but you do know that quite a few of your housemates have been inundated with coursework lately and you don’t want to disturb any of the valuable rest they need so badly. Jimin had looked so wiped out yesterday that you’d literally had to pull him away from the dishes and send him to bed. He complained on the way, but as soon as his head hit his pillow he was out, leaving you in a mixture of awe and concern. He explained as soon as he woke the next morning that he had been up all night completing an assignment, and it made you realise just how exhausted a lot of your roommates seem lately. You hope this period passes soon for them; you may not have been here long but you have grown to care for them and you don’t like seeing them so unwell.

You’re just pondering this when you reach the ground floor and venture into the kitchen, thoughts and feet coming to an abrupt stop as you take in the sight that greets you there.

Seokjin is standing by the bench, hands moving slowly as he puts something together just out of your view. A quick survey of the rest of the countertop tells you that he’s making lunches, and while ordinarily this would touch your heart (as it does every time you see how each of the hybrids in this house cares for each other), this time you’re overcome with a strong wave of concern.

Delicately put, Seokjin looks dead on his feet.

Every few moments his head bobs down, chin almost hitting his chest before he jerks awake just long enough to lift his head, before the cycle repeats once more. He looks so exhausted you’re impressed he managed to make as many lunches as he did. Though, from the looks of it he’s only about halfway through.

“Hey, Seokjin… are you okay?”

The hybrid jumps, the startle you gave him probably rendering him more awake than he has been in a few hours.

“Wh—what are you doing awake?” he sputters, having to lean against the bench so that he doesn’t fall over. “It’s almost midnight!”

You can’t help the look you give him, a mixture between amusement and concern. “Um… it’s a little past midnight actually… probably closer to two… are you alright?”

Seokjin blinks at you for a second while your words sink in, before he sags with a light groan, bringing a hand up to scrub at his eyes.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, voice thick with sleepiness. His bushy, striped tail sways behind him before curling around his thigh. “I’m just… kind of wiped out. I was up finishing a part of a really big assessment piece and it took longer than I thought… I was going to go to bed but then I remembered that I hadn’t prepared the boys’ lunches, and I always do that, so I came down here and…”

He makes a great, sweeping gesture over the mess on the bench, a result of his patchy attention. A huff of laughter escapes him. “Yeah.”

“I’m glad you finished your piece, but… do you really have to make their lunches? I think you should probably get some sleep…”

You were a little worried he might take your words the wrong way, but you can tell from the serene expression on his face that he doesn’t. “I always do it. If I don’t, then they might worry about me, and I don’t want them to worry about me when they should spend that energy worrying about themselves. Plus, I don’t know if I’d be able to sleep if I knew they weren’t done.”

You return his amused smile, taking a step closer and willing yourself to speak the idea that had come to mind.

“Well, considering I found you almost sleeping on the spot when I came down, I think you should probably call it a night and get some rest. I’d be happy to finish up and make sure the lunches are done, if you’d like?”

You can see the resistance immediately, the tall man opening his mouth to refuse—but he halts, and for a moment slips into his own thoughts. Sensing that he just needs a little push, you continue, “If you tell me what you usually make, I should be able to finish the rest of them without too much trouble.”

He blinks, and in that moment you see the rest of his exhaustion flood to the surface. He sniffles, unable to fight the yawn that rises. “… Okay. If that’s really alright with you…?”

You laugh, reaching to bump Seokjin’s side. “Of course it is. I don’t mind at all, especially if it means you’ll go to sleep in your bed and not on the kitchen floor. Now, what do you normally make…?”

Letting out a soft laugh, Seokjin does his best to stay awake long enough to instruct you on what he makes and how he makes it for the remaining members of the household. You can’t help but notice throughout his explanation that he doesn’t seem to make lunch for himself despite making it for everyone else, and as he finally plods off to bed and passes out, you make the decision that you’re going to make some lunch for him too. It takes you a brief google search on the diet of red pandas and their hybrid counterparts, as well and recalling what you know of Seokjin’s taste in food, but it doesn’t take you too long to decide on what to make. You work through the lunches one by one, grateful for the distraction, and complete the task fully when Seokjin’s sits primly next to the rest. You pile them all into the fridge, washing your hands again before grabbing the water you originally came down for, and then you’re making the trip back upstairs to your own bed, a soft smile on your face and a warm satisfaction curling around your lungs. You fall asleep easier than expected for a night where you had one of those dreams, but there most definitely aren’t any complaints to be found as you drift off with a faint smile on your lips.

The next day, it’s only a little before midday when Seokjin finally rises from his slumber and makes his way downstairs. Blearily, he reaches the kitchen and heads straight to the fridge, attempting to think through his sleep-addled brain what he should make for lunch. Those thoughts are interrupted as he catches sight of a box he hasn’t seen outside of the little tupperware cupboard by the stove in ages sitting on the middle shelf, a little paper tag with ‘for Seokjin’ scribbled onto it perched on top.

He pulls it out and places it on the bench, staring in confusion. It takes him an embarrassingly long time to kick his limbs into gear and open it, but from that point on the realisation comes quickly with the memory of last night.

You’d gone and made lunch for him, too. And from the looks of it, you’d paid great attention to what to include.

His stomach rumbles violently as he takes in the sight of berries and the bamboo shoots he usually stores in the fridge that you must have taken the time to boil and season. There is a sandwich in there as well but he doesn’t need to check whether he will like it because he can already smell the salmon.

He doesn’t know what to think, or really what to say. He knows he’s just lucky you’ve already gone to work at the Rabbit’s Den because otherwise you would probably be here and risk seeing his eyes tear up a little.

A side effect from being sleepy and stressed is the dramatics, he knows, but still… he can’t help but notice the warm feeling that lingers in his stomach when he thinks of how nice you are to do such a thing.

O—O—O

“You’re gonna love it when we get there, y/n! It’s so pretty, and there’s so much fruit… I’m going to feast.”

You can’t help but let out a laugh, thoroughly enjoying the company of your two housemates and the combination of cool breeze and warm sunlight the air offers as they kiss your skin. It’s earlier in the morning than you tend to wake up, but you’ve been invited out on an exclusive adventure and you aren’t in any position to say no. For the past few weeks you’ve noticed that on a Saturday and Sunday morning, Taehyung tends to disappear. You don’t know where, and each time you saw him again you forgot to ask, but finally the opportunity had arisen for you to sate your curiosity. Happily, the lemur hybrid had informed you that there is a small section of the island towards the north that is absolutely packed with trees, bushes and otherwise, all peppered with ripe fruit. Some days he goes to tend to them, but on the weekends he confessed to you that he normally goes to harvest the literal fruits of his labour.

“Just don’t eat all of the tamarind again, Jiminie, or I will have to kill you myself.”

Jimin lets out a loud laugh, stumbling in his gait for a moment from the force of it. “Yessir! Understood, sir!”

Taehyung’s lips quirk into a smile, and he returns his gaze to the front to continue marching ahead and leading the two of you to his secret spot. You adjust your hold on the woven bag over your shoulder, brushing away some of the more unruly strands of hair that have made their way across your face by riding on the breeze.

“Thanks again for inviting me, Tae,” you say, unable to hide the skip in your step as you plod along after them, smiling brightly. “I’ve been wanting to explore more—it feels wrong that I’ve been here for a month and barely seen everything there is to see.”

Taehyung spins to flash you a beaming grin over his shoulder, ears flicking and tail curling happily. “Of course, it’s no problem! I did wonder if you’d like to come some time, so I’m glad you mentioned it the other day.”

Jimin gasps, the sound somewhere between playful and affronted. “You asked her yourself to come?! I had to beg for weeks! Weeks!”

“I told you, the fruit weren’t done when you first asked!” Taehyung whines, reaching back and pausing in his steps just long enough to whack Jimin on the shoulder. “You just didn’t listen!”

“I’m baby,” Jimin says, whether in affirmation or explanation you’re not sure. It manages to tear a laugh from Taehyung either way, and you’re no different.

You’re not left stewing in anticipation for long; before you know it you’re broaching the place that Taehyung and Jimin speak so highly of. Rounding a corner, you come across a large grove that ends beyond what your eyes can see—some trees curl and wind, others stand straight and proud with their roots covered modestly with smaller shrubbery. Vines cling and string around some trunks, but the one thing all of the flora in front of you has in common is that they’re all ripe with fruit, ready to be picked.

“Oh wow,” you remark, barely aware you’ve even said anything. A deep laugh sounds from beside you and you turn to see Taehyung grinning brightly, tail curling happily behind him and his little ears flicking with glee.

“Pretty, right? Some of these were already growing here when I found it, like the apples, but the rest of it I planted over time. I’m proud of how it’s turned out.”

“You should be!” you exclaim, pointing to the fruit displayed in the very image of temptation before you all. “Dude, they look delicious.”

“They are!” Jimin chimes in, flitting past you and snagging his finger in your sleeve as he goes to drag you along. “Come on, there’s a mulberry tree up the back and it has the juiciest berries. We have to pick them now before all the birds and fruit bats get them.”

Laughing, you allow the sugar glider hybrid to lead you into the grove of greenery, the man ducking and weaving around branches with ease as his feet follow a path well-worn into the dirt and grass. The splotches of sunlight that filter through the foliage are pleasant where they warm your skin, breeze ensuring you don’t get too hot beneath the kiss of a star. In the shadows of the trees, it is actually much cooler than you expected, but you can’t help but feel that the temperature, the air, the sights—everything feels perfect.

The mulberry tree, fondly called Ol’ Bessy as Jimin had eagerly informed you, is a large, looming monster of a tree with a plethora of winding trunks and subordinate thin branches that dangle and sway in the breeze in the image of a weeping willow. When you comment on the sheer size of it, Taehyung simply shrugs and tells you with a smile that it’s been here a long time, before anyone was on the island.

The three of you don't have much desire to waste any more time standing and dawdling, and so you begin your activity for the day, woven bags and baskets prepared and at the ready. You inspect the mulberries that are hanging lowest, spying the occasional green one but becoming easily appeased when you find bunches of ripe ones, plump and fit to burst as they weigh the thinner branches down.

Gathering them is harder than anticipated, because you hadn't accounted for the fact they they're, well, berries. It takes a few attempts and more than a few instances of stained hands before you figure out the best way to pluck them from the tree without bursting them. Taehyung saw the first one you popped and the way it went all up your arm, and hasn't stopped laughing since.

The three of you bounce between fruits and trees, filling your containers with whichever you prefer. After a while though you all seem to have the same idea to congregate at the mulberry tree. Admittedly, you hadn't been able to stop yourself from munching on some of the fruits as you picked them, but as you look at them and see berry stains around their mouths and apple leaves in their hair, you feel a little less guilty about it. Taehyung places his basket down, leaning it securely against the base of the tree trunk, before dusting his hands with a sharp clap and then resting them on his hips.

"Right," he says, eyes alight. "There's just one more tree to visit. I think you're gonna love it."

You tilt your head, wondering just what other kind of fruit he has up his sleeve when already you've picked so many. Surely he's constrained even a little bit by the climate? Or does he have magically green thumbs? Jimin giggles at your confused expression.

"How good are you at climbing trees?"

The question gives you pause. "Uh... decent? I suppose?"

"Great!" Taehyung exclaims, picking his basket back up and closing the lid to help secure it on his back. "Let's go!"

Once more you're lead in between and through the trees and shrubs, following the gleeful lemur hybrid and his grinning companion back to the middle of the grove. Before long you're stumbling to a halt, having reached the location and wondering how on earth you managed to miss this tree before.

It's bigger than Ol' Bessy by a decent margin, but confusion filters through you when you can't seem to spot any fruit hanging from its branches. You turn to Taehyung, about to question him, but he simply grins and darts over to the massive trunk (really, you don't think two of you could hug it from either side and have your fingers touch, it's so big). It's only after he begins scaling it with alarming ease that you take note of the grooves and footholds curled into the trunk, making it a naturally perfect tree for climbing. Jimin darts up after his friend, apparently also well-versed in the art of climbing this tree, and breaks you from your awed reverie with a shout over his shoulder.

"Come on, y/n! Or Tae is gonna take the good spot!"

Unsure what he means and unsure if you're willing to find out via Taehyung following through on that, you scramble to follow after them and do your best to climb.

It's easier than anticipated, actually, and dare you say it... relaxing. Though you're going higher and higher with each branch you clear, and see less of the ground and more of the canopy with each step, you can't say you're all that scared, or worried. If anything, it's as though a moment of peace has been captured in a bubble, and now settles like cool mist on a spring morning at the bottom of your chest.

In sharp contrast to the cool breeze that brushes your face as you emerge from the thickest part of the foliage, the sun is quick to kiss warmth back into your cheeks. For a moment, you have to pause in your climb, because the view around you is simply so beautiful you're at an absolute loss for words.

From here, the highest point in the grove, you can see a vast majority of the island, a sweeping panorama of lush greens and soft sands that blend into the crystalline waters of the ocean, sunlight turning the surface to a sea of diamonds. Along the stretch of beach, in the distance, you can just barely glimpse the sharehouse, and on the other side of the island the little market square where all the stores and restaurants are appears as smudges and blobs of dark colours.

"It's so beautiful, right?"

You're so immersed in your observation that for a second you almost don't even register that someone is talking to you. Mouth open in awe, you simply turn your expression to Taehyung; the lemur laughs, almost tumbling back from the force of it, and you're shocked back into the moment with worry until you see what stopped him from falling.

Here, at the very top of the tallest tree in Taehyung's secret grove, he has built a small little fixture, a deck with enough space for four people to squeeze onto it at most. It hugs the trunk of the tree and is braced on the few thick branches that split from the tree beneath it. A lot of it is untouched, natural wood, but the bottom is made of processed planks and some of the short balcony ledge has been painted with acrylics, little scenes spanning the length of the strips. You didn't know Taehyung painted, but figure you'll bring it up at another time when you aren't precariously clinging to the top of a massive tree.

Taking the hand that both men offer you, you haul yourself carefully up and onto the deck, marvelling as you get an even clearer view of the island from your new position.

"It really is," you answer him, somewhat belatedly. When the two of them settle down, tree swaying much like you imagine a ship would on the vast expanse of the ocean, you follow suit, with your back pressed securely to the trunk.

Jimin is already flinging open his container, smacking it onto the wood in front of him, and Taehyung laughs once more, the sound so freeing and light that it makes that little bubble of peace in your abdomen expand ever so slightly.

"And now, we feast!" The lemur says, eagerly opening his own basket and setting it in front of him, besides Jimin's. They're both set to overflow from the amount of fresh, ripe fruit piled in.

They shamelessly and unabashedly dig in, eliciting a laugh from you as you move your own bag before you to do the same. It's nice, the perfect lunch in more ways than one; the small amount of foliage above you offers just enough shade that you want for nothing more in the moment besides maybe a pillow or two, everything else accounted for in excess.

You're not sure how long you spend there, but you do know that the sun has made a decent amount of headway in its journey across the sky by the time the three of you are done stuffing your stomachs full, laying across the deck and squinting until the clouds swimming leisurely across the sky begin to resemble something you can put a name to. It's fun, and light, and for what is alarmingly far from the first time, you find yourself so thankful for the choices you made and the path that led you here, to be staying on this beautiful island with these lovely boys.

By time you finish and the three of you are heading back, you’ve eaten through half of the fruit and the boys are so full and sleepy from the big day that they’ve shifted into their animal forms and are now clinging to you, Taehyung with his long limbs around your neck and Jimin with his tiny paws clinging to the hair at the top of your head. You suspect he’s made himself another little nest up there, but can’t find it in yourself to be upset with him for it especially when the soft sounds and chitters he makes to communicate with Taehyung are so damn cute.

The trip back is shorter than you recall, and before you know it you’re approaching the sharehouse once more, it’s looming sides graced with the warm gleam of afternoon sun. Jimin and Taehyung are asleep as you reach the front door, and you’re saved from having to move all the bags and baskets in your hold to open the door when it opens for you. Hoseok is standing there, a startled look gracing his features that quickly blends into one of fondness as he sees his friends, something that makes your cheeks warm ever so slightly.

“Good day?” he asks, stepping back to let you in. You nod, unable to help the wide grin touching your lips.

“Yeah, it was.”

O – O – O

‘…They should be setting up a tower soon, so hopefully it won’t be long before I can call you again. But until then, I look forward to every letter you send, bubbles.

Write back soon! I miss you.

Love, Dad’

You sniffle, trying not to let out the tears that are so close to slipping from your eyes. You’re not all that upset, you love receiving letters from your father, but it’s just… a little bittersweet. You’d moved here to escape your family, following a certain incident that you’re not keen to revisit, and your father had always been and will always be supportive of you— but it’s hard, when he’s halfway across the globe on one expedition or another.

It was only in the past ten years that your father managed to snag the job of his dreams and follow the passion he’s harboured since he was a child, graduating from his career as an accountant through attention garnered from numerous big research papers to become a well-respected biologist. From the second he accepted the offer, he’d started down a path that led him spending a majority of his life outside of the home and always on the move, hopping from one destination to another.

Whenever he could, he’d take you with him, but he wasn’t always able to. This expedition, which has landed him in the Antarctic, is an example of that. While he can’t be with you physically, he writes often and calls every chance he gets—and though it saddens you sometimes when it highlights the dismal state of the rest of your family, more than anything you’re happy for him and overjoyed that after years of slaving in an office, he finally gets to do what he wants.

You inhale, closing your eyes and trying to let the breath escape in a long, level manner. It’s night, not when you normally go about reading letters from your father but this letter had come late and you’d almost completely forgotten on your way to bed. Taking the opportunity to get some fresh air, you’d taken the letter and made yourself comfortable on the balcony, using the ample moonlight as a makeshift reading lamp.

Placing the letter carefully on the table, mindful not to place it in anything dirty or unsavoury, you settle back in your chair and tilt your gaze to the skies, allowing your eyes to become unfocused and simply stare. It's a pretty sight, as you expected-- the stars are much more outgoing here, with no haze or pollution masking their display like in the city on the mainland.

You let out a breath, but even to your ears it sounds more like a sigh. You miss your dad, and you know he misses you too but despite the fact you know it's selfish of you, you kind of wish he had been here with you when you made the decision to move. Of course, you've told him all about it, and he's supported you wholly in every choice you've made, but it's not the same. You don't blame him, and you love him dearly, but still... you're allowed to be sad, just a little. Just for tonight.

Well, that had been your plan-- apparently the universe has other ideas that don't include sulking in the moonlight on your balcony. A scuffling sound disturbs your reverie from the side of your balcony, and you look over in time to see a decent blob of shadow scaling up the side of the balcony next to yours and flinging onto the railing. Once there, it halts, and your eyes adjust just in time to meet those of the creature-- the raccoon, you realise quickly. It tilts its head up, sniffling the air once, before pinning you with an unreadable look. For a moment the two of you sit in silence, locked in place by the other's gaze, before the raccoon lets out a soft noise and then it's little claws are clacking against the hollow metal railing, and it disappears beyond the wall.

Whose room is that... Jungkook's? You muse to yourself for a moment before you remember what kind of hybrid Jungkook is, and in the next second there is the sound of a door sliding shut and Jungkook's bright-eyed face pops around the side of the wall.

"Uh... are you okay?"

You blink, brain taking a moment to catch up and then decipher how he could have possibly known you were even a little bit upset. You recall suddenly that animals can pick up cues, like chemoreceptors, and tilt your head at him with a small smile.

"Yeah... no... I'm alright." You angle yourself more towards him in your chair, cheering internally when you see him stop hiding behind the wall and come to lean against the railing. "Was that you? Where were you off to, this time of night?"

Jungkook looks like he wishes to address the first thing you said, but your follow-up has thrown him a bit for a loop. You can't be sure your eyes aren't deceiving you, but you could almost swear he's blushing.

"Oh, yeah... sorry." He reaches a hand up to rub the back of his neck, hair mussed and eyes averted. "I know my animal form isn't that nice... sorry if you thought it was gross."

"What?!"

At the sheer suddenness and volume of your almost-shriek, Jungkook jumps about a foot in the air. His wide eyes swing back to you, chest heaving as he rests his hand in the centre of it. You clear your throat, shrinking a bit in embarrassment.

"Sorry," you wince, before going to elaborate on your earlier squawk. "But please don't ever apologise for something like that! I don't know who told you that your animal form is gross, but they can't be all that bright... it was cute."

He looks more like a deer in headlights than the animal he's spliced with right now, eyes wide and staring right at you. You can't help but laugh and tease him, just a little. "Cutest raccoon I ever did see, anyway."

He suddenly comes back to earth, slamming his face into his hands and letting out a long groan. It's from embarrassment, you can tell from the flashes of reddened skin that peek through his fingers. You don't say anything for a moment, letting him return to the conversation on his own terms. Jungkook might be one of the housemates you've interacted with least, but you've heard plenty from the rest of the hybrids in the house.

More often than not, it's about how shy he is and how cute it is when he gets embarrassed. You'd simply nodded and laughed at the time, but now you realise there truly is merit to everything they said.

It takes a few moments of Jungkook muttering into his hands before he pulls his face away, averting his eyes and mumbling softly, "... Thanks. That's really nice of you to say."

"You're welcome," you shrug, smiling when he risks a glance your way to gauge your reaction. Upon seeing nothing that will make him turn tail and flee back into the safety of his room, he eases up, returning his body to it's previous angle towards you.

"So... why were you upset?"

Surprisingly, his question doesn't bother you as you thought it might. You hum, watching as his gaze follows yours to the table, where the letter and the envelope it came in, addressed to you, lay discarded.

"Letter from my dad," you offer in explanation, watching his eyes light in realisation. "Nothing bad, I just miss him so it's... bittersweet."

Jungkook hums, nodding and resting his chin in his hand as he leans forward. "I understand. It's like that with my parents. I know they love me, and I love them, but they're pretty far away and I just... miss them. They're always working."

You're a little surprised that he can relate, although you suppose you really shouldn't be. You don't know very much about Jungkook at all, so it's not fair of you to assume anything about him, even in relation to your own experiences.

"Yeah," you sigh, looking to the sky for a moment as you try and organise your thoughts. "I'm happy he is where he is, doing what he's doing, but I think it's okay to be sad, just for tonight."

Jungkook hums, but doesn't say anything further. It surprises you when he speaks next, the two of you having fallen into a lull.

"Well, you could keep being sad for the night if you want, or... would you maybe wanna see the film I've been working on?"

Your head whips to face him faster than the speed of light, startling him into another jump on the spot.

"Really?" you ask, hurried as though the offer will be rescinded at any moment. "You mean it? I can see it?"

"Yes...?" Jungkook answers, somewhat bewildered. You launch from your chair immediately, rubbing your hands together-- you've heard really good things from the others about his talents in photography and editing, so you've been trying to figure out a way to slip it into conversation for weeks. You've wanted to see them for yourself so badly.

"I'm coming over," you announce, gathering the letter and envelope and already beginning to move towards your room. "I hope your room is clean, Jungkook, or else I'm gonna tease you!"

You'd just meant it as a joke, but the scrambling and hurried footsteps you hear after you say it make you think he took you seriously.

Well, you dad would probably want you to spend the night happy, anyway. You can save being sad for another night.

O -- O -- O

Your time at the house has gone by much faster than you anticipated, and while initially you'd thought that you wouldn't be able to wait to get out, now you find yourself feeling quite the opposite.

You kind of don't want to leave.

At this point, about two months into your stay, you've settled into such a comfortable, stable routine that you struggle to imagine going through the motions in any other way. Often after your early shifts you'll return to the house and catch someone lounging in the sun, and you will no doubt be roped into a short, sweet afternoon nap. On the weekends is group breakfast, and you make sure that you go to bed as early as possible the nights before so that you don't miss it. Taehyung drags you with him of a weekend to fetch fruit and Jimin drags you around the town in general. Some evenings, you find yourself accompanying Namjoon on a walk along the beach, both of you feeling more at peace than ever before when you're standing with feet buried in the sand, watching dusk bleed into twilight and the colours around you stain violet and periwrinkle in the absence of the sun's kiss.

Jungkook knocks on your door at late hours, grinning and eagerly summoning you to his room to watch his latest creation. Seokjin no longer resists your help every other night to make lunches, and has started including you in the schedule as well.

Yoongi and Hoseok are among the busier residents of the house, but you've still spent bits of time with each of them, probably moreso with Hoseok. It's not that you avoid Yoongi or anything like that, it's just that he happens to be the most busy and more often than not is holed up in his room. You don't always see him throughout the week, but he always attends house breakfast on weekends and you're thankful that you get to see him then.

Today, you're spending a little more time with Hoseok. Your shift ended early and you couldn't have thanked your lucky stars any harder, because today the squirrel hybrid had invited you to his dance class. Usually Jungkook or Jimin went with him, both of them enjoying dance as much as their older housemate, but they had both been unavailable today. You'd seen the way Hoseok's face had fallen when they'd told him, and had immediately asked about the class-- you didn't even talk for more than a few minutes before Hoseok was happily inviting you to attend.

It made you a little more pleased than you're going to admit.

You're on your way there now, actually, a skip in your step and a swing in your gait. You've got the tote bag you hold your work things in, and you can hear the rustling of the nuts you'd shoved in there last minute earlier in the day. You'd noticed that Hoseok had forgotten them, so you'd grabbed them to give to him when you saw him. Hopefully he hasn't stuffed himself too full of other foods in the meantime, though from what you've heard apparently he's such a workaholic that he probably hasn't even had lunch yet despite the fact it's currently three in the afternoon.

A majority of Hoseok's classes take place at the school where he teaches, in a room at the end of the drama block that often doubles as a dance classroom when the school gets the funding for it. When you arrive, the door is slightly ajar and upbeat pop is leaking through the gap, Hoseok's sunny voice piercing through the music like a pendulum.

"--and one, two, three, one, two, three-- that's it! That's fantastic! Really good job, guys!"

A smile is already on your face as you push the door open enough to let yourself in, gaze immediately falling upon a group of grinning children that are looking up at Hoseok like they're a tiny field of sunflowers facing their namesake. Hoseok stands before them in a borderline comical pose that only primary school teachers can really pull off, hands on his hips and a proud, beaming smile on his face. You can’t help but blink because for a moment it really was as blinding as looking directly at the sun. He spots you before you can recover fully, and greets you with a wave.

“Ah, perfect! Everyone, this is Miss y/n! She’s going to be sitting in today—I told her how good you all were and she couldn’t wait to see for herself. Let’s all say hello!”

A chorus of greetings is immediately thrown at you, the attention of the little sunflowers now completely on you. Some gasp and run over, grinning brightly at the novelty of a new character, and others watch from afar but seem pleased nonetheless by your presence and alleged eagerness to see them perform.

Before they can launch into conversation with you like you can so clearly see they want to, the ears of some kids ramrod straight and alert and others’ tails flicking in excitement, Hoseok calls them back to where he stands and to your surprise they obey immediately.

“Alright, let’s let Miss y/n get settled down and we can show her what we’ve been practicing, hm? Sound good?”

There is a chorus of ‘yes!’ that pulls a laugh from you as you make your way to the side of the room with the best view and plop down, cross-legged. Eagerly and very self-consciously, now that they have an audience, the small army of children runs to take their place in the formation, and Hoseok pulls his phone from his pocket to pause the song currently playing and pull up the one that matches their routine.

The opening notes filter into the air and Hoseok nods, foot tapping to the beat, before he counts them in and off they go.

Put simply, you’re so incredibly impressed. These kids can dance! You don’t have a doubt that they can dance better than you, not that you ever claimed to have much talent in that department. By the time they finish running through their little routine, you’re clapping and cheering loudly, relishing in the laughter that you’re exaggerated reaction elicits. Hoseok, too, is smiling as he sees how you interact with his students, wandering over after he takes them through it a few more times before giving them a small break.

"So, what do you think?" he asks as he approaches your side of the room, slightly out of breath from doing the routine with them the last few times. "They're so good, aren't they? They've only been working on this for a few weeks and already they have it almost perfectly down-pat. I'm so proud of them."

He slides down the wall next to you, reaching for the bag he'd dropped there presumably before class began; across the room all the students are reaching into their class backpacks for their afternoon snack, and it seems Hoseok has the same idea. You don't even remember the nuts in your bag until he rifles through his for a few minutes, brows furrowed when he comes up empty. His bushy tail flicks dejectedly, ears twitching back on his head, and he pouts.

"Damn, I think I forgot my lunch this morning," he says, and it's enough to jog your memory. You jump in place from the startle of it.

"Oh, I saw that! Here," you quickly reach into your own bag and pull out the nuts and dried fruits, passing it over to him. "I brought it for you, since I figured you'd probably want it at some point."

The way Hoseok's eyes light up when they see the little plastic bag in your hand is almost enough to make you laugh and/or coo out loud. By the skin of your teeth you barely manage to hold that reaction back, but you do smile as he cheers with a short, happy scream and eagerly takes it from your grip.

"My nuts!" Hoseok wastes no time ripping the bag open and grabbing a handful, setting about munching immediately. "You have saved my life today, Miss y/n. I was soooo hungry."

"Didn't get lunch?" you guess, already knowing the answer and having it confirmed when Hoseok nods, completely unfazed by the fact he'd skipped a meal or two.

"I was helping one of the students," he explains, munching happily. His bushy tails curls in content behind him, a sight that makes something happy and warm settle in your chest. "I don't mind missing lunch if it means they get the help they need. I do feel it afterwards, though. Sometimes when I get home I feel so hungry I could eat the whole cupboard out."

A laugh tears from you at his words, the image even funnier because he didn't specify whether he would be doing it in his human form or his animal form. The image of a squirrel wreaking havoc in the house pantry is funnier than you care to admit, but Hoseok just seems happy to have elicited a laugh no matter the magnitude.

It's just a small thing, spending the afternoon with Hoseok and his students, but you find afterwards that it was almost... healing. On the way home, walking besides Hoseok and discussing which dried fruit were the superior dried fruit (he's wrong, and you'll take that opinion with you to the grave), you can't help but feel so light and happy. Like everything is in place, in motion and flowing smoothly. A river without debris and jagged rocks; life right now feels like that moment in nature when water runs over smooth pebbles in a creek, tumbling and pouring but doing so without chaos, and without mess or fallout. Just one continuous, fluid motion.

It feels nice.

You don't even realise until you're laying in bed that night that for a while now, that's how you've been referring to this place.

As home.

O -- O -- O

Aside from the occasional uncomfortable dream, these past few months have been remarkably incident-free, where it concerns the unfortunate topic of your extended family. You'd changed a lot of things when you'd made the decision to move to this island; your phone number, your email addresses and all your passwords, your social media... all of it had been combed through and either switched out or slimmed down. This place is an escape, a place of refuge for you, and that's how you want it to stay.

Unfortunately, the universe isn't always on your side.

It's a rainy afternoon when you receive the call, and you're so fixated on watching the way the rain falls in thin sheets over the ocean that at first from the first floor patio, that you miss it. They don't call again, but a message sets your phone off a minute or so later, and that catches your attention.

Of course, the second you read it and see who it's from, it does more than just catch your attention.

You're not someone prone to many episodes, and you've become adept at self-soothing. But as your eyes begin to stare unfocused at the message and you feel your chest constrict, diaphragm pushing against your lungs, you realise distantly that this is more than you just being momentarily overwhelmed.

You get a bit lost in the moment, lost in the sensation of light-headedness that suddenly washes over you, so much so that when a voice sounds distantly, muffled as though you're listening to someone speak to you from the depths of a pool, you barely even register it at first.

"Hey, y/n, have you seen--"

Still, your eyes are stuck on the message; you don't even notice the way your fingers had begun to tremble while holding the phone until a hand brushes your arm, a figure in front of you blocking the light from beyond the porch.

"y/n, hey, are you.... look at me. y/n, look at me."

Oh, that's a voice, and you do as it says without even a single thought flitting through your head. Looking up, you're barely even as surprised as you should be to see Yoongi standing there, a look of concern spread across his features, brows drawn together as he regards you. You feel a warm touch against your hand, phone tugged from your grip to be replaced with his own. Both your hands are now in his hold and he uses it to ground you, even if just for a moment.

"Can you do me a favour?" Yoongi says, and his voice is so soft and soothing that you find yourself listening as attentively as you can right now. "I need you to breathe with me. I'm gonna count ten breaths, okay? Let's do the first one-- in..."

He inhales deeply, his whole chest moving from the magnitude of it, and you feel as though you're floating in your own head in the moment as you follow suit. Slowly, patiently, he takes you through each breath one at a time, making sure you inhale as big as he does and exhale as long as he does. By the time you reach ten, the light-headed feeling has faded and the constriction in your chest has eased, ever so slightly. As soon as you finish your tenth breath you sag slightly, letting out a gush of air.

"Sorry," you say, slipping one of your hands from his grip to cover your face. "Sorry, I just--"

To your complete and utter surprise, Yoongi's hand lets your other one go and in the next moment you feel arms slipping around your shoulders, bringing you close to his chest and letting your face rest on his shoulder. You see his fluffy tail from where your face is squished, catching glimpses over his shoulder of the way it curls calmly.

Once the moment of shock passes, you're unable to help yourself but to return the embrace, surprised by how much you needed this without even knowing so.

"It's okay, don't apologise," Yoongi says, voice still soft and calm. You sag against him, and your eyes burn not from the message that triggered your almost anxiety-attack, but from the sheer kindness you feel emanating from this man. "Happens to the best of us. Are you feeling a little better?"

You nod, because oddly enough you are, and he slowly releases his hold on you, easing back with an assessing look. Another apology rests on the tip of your tongue but you bite it back, knowing he would refuse it if it ever entered the air.

“I am. Thanks,” you say, eyes looking for your phone as you realise suddenly that it is no longer in your hand where you’d left it. Yoongi holds it up, handing it back easily; his gaze passes over the screen as he does so, and the look he gives you is one of empathy and knowing.

“Shitty family?” he inquires, and you nod, choosing not to look at your phone and to slip it straight into your pocket instead. You go to sit against the wall, facing the edge of the patio, and he joins you.

“I get it,” he says, lifting a hand to fluff up his grey-tinted hair before shifting his gaze out to the rain and its reunion with the ocean. “’Part from my parents, the rest of my… relatives… they’re, uh… they’re not so nice. Didn’t treat me all that well, or even my parents for that matter. So… I get it. You don’t have to elaborate if you don’t wanna, but I get it.”

You don’t really know what to say to that; not that you’re speechless, per se, but moreso that there is simply so much going through your head at once that you can’t seem to settle on anything to voice.

“Thank you,” you say again, sniffling as subtly as you can as you focus on evening your breaths and calming your heart. You feel something on your hand and look over to see Yoongi has placed his palm over your own, his face soft and comforting.

“It’s no problem.”

A different kind of ache, the sort that is tinged around the edges with bittersweet warmth, begins to make itself known amongst the turmoil in your abdomen, and in this moment you can’t quite decipher whether it’s a good feeling or a bad one. What you do know, though, is that you’ve never been more thankful to have had the fortune of meeting these boys and having them make room in their hearts for you, even just a little, than you are right now.

O – O – O

You can’t believe that all the time you’ve spent here has gone so fast, and that currently there is no more than a week before your three month deadline is up and your contracted stay at this house is to come to an end.

If you’re being honest with yourself… you don’t want to go.

When you’d first come to this house, you’d expected that you would have a nice time, but also that you would be eager to move out by the end of the three month period. You had no way of knowing how well you’d fall into routine here, how attached you would become not only to the residents but to the home, the place and the feeling it offers and the way it allows you to feel happier than you have in years.

You know that you have to leave, they’d only agreed to house you for the three months after all, and you also know that they seem to have realised your time here is coming to an end as well. You’ve caught them talking amongst themselves a few times, not quite whispering but definitely conversing about something that halts as soon as they catch wind of you anywhere nearby. You get the sense that they’re unsure how to approach the topic, and you understand since it’s a bit tough for you yourself. You decide to bite the bullet and do it for them, though.

You ask them to meet you in the living area, a week before you leave, to talk. You wanted to just… officially thank them, you suppose. They’ve done a lot for you, in the time you’ve been here, whether they realise it or not. They’ve helped you settle, they’ve shown you that there really is more to life outside the misery your relatives tended to create, and they’ve ensured every second you’ve been with them that you have felt welcomed, and included.

Truthfully, it means more to you than you know how to put into words.

Which is why it’s especially difficult for you to accept that you have to leave.

The expressions on their faces as they gather are a mixture between curious and somewhat apprehensive, with Namjoon, Jungkook and Hoseok bordering on nervous. You wonder why before realising they might not know why you called them here.

“Hey, thanks for gathering,” you say, attempting to keep it light and ensure the smile stays on your face. Of course, they all return is as they take seats across the room, some on the couch and others on the coffee table or the floor. Taehyung’s head tilts, tail curling lightly behind him.

“Um, I just wanted to say something to you—to all of you, while I could. I didn’t think I’d be able to catch everyone in the one room any time but on the weekend,” you muse, smile widening at the round of light laughter your joke elicits. You shift, taking a breath and grounding yourself through the motion of meeting their gazes, one by one.

“I wanted to say thank you,” you begin, voice softer than intended but not so soft that you’re worried their senses won’t pick it up. “Because when I moved here it was to get away, and start anew, and you guys… really gave me that. You’ve made these three months the best and happiest months I’ve had in a long time. I’m so thankful that you let me in, and welcomed me into your home and even into your lives. I don’t think I can word this the way I want to but… really. Thank you, so much. I know I have to leave in a week, but—”

“Oh!”

You halt mid-spiel, wide eyes moving to Taehyung as he suddenly sits up, holding his hands out. “So that’s what you wanted to talk to us about—we actually wanted to talk to you about something, too.”

Freezing, you simply blink, mind coming up blank as to what they could possibly want to talk to you about. Namjoon clears his throat when no one else follows up after Taehyung, averting his eyes before he gathers himself and meeting your confused look. “Well, you probably noticed we’ve been talking amongst ourselves a lot lately—I mean, I know you’ve noticed because you’ve walked in on us a few times, and we’re not very good at being subtle, but—”

“We want to know if you’d like to stay here—permanently.” Taehyung cuts his friend off before he can finish, apparently no longer able to hold the question at bay. There is an expression of pure, unguarded sincerity on his face, excitement lighting in his eyes. “We all talked it out and found that we want you to stay—all of us.”

“You fit,” Yoongi says suddenly, voice still soft but loud enough for you to catch easily. He offers you a gentle smile when you look his way. “We know that if you left, the house wouldn’t be the same after… it would be missing something. You haven’t been here long, but you’re kind of already part of our family so… please don’t go, if you don’t want to.”

Some of the others are pinning Yoongi with a surprised look that you suspect is not directed at what he said, but rather the fact that he said it. You’re too busy biting your lip and trying not to cry like a baby to notice all that much.

“Is that really okay?” you ask, déjà vu washing over you as you think to yourself that again, this sounds too good to be true. “Do you guys really want me to stay?”

Immediately, there is a mixture of nods and loud ‘Yes!’s and ‘Of course!’. You really can’t hold it back, you find, because the sudden flood of warmth and affection washing over your insides is more than you know how to handle. You sniff, unable to reach the tears fast enough to prevent their fall down your face.

“Will you stay?” Yoongi asks, head tilted. Regrettably, his tenderness makes more tears fall.

“Yeah,” you manage, wiping your face furiously, “Yeah, I will. Thank you.”

And that’s all the confirmation you need before your new family is tackling you one by one, replacing your sobs with laughter and making sure you know that from now on, you don’t have to cry alone, you don’t have to be sad alone. They’re here for you.

And it feels so, so nice.

a/n: thank you so much for reading! please let me know what you think and how it made u feel, and let me know u enjoyed it by liking and reblogging! feel free to even just send me an ask screaming! thank u! i love u !

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five-rivers · 4 years ago

Text

Pennywort and Swallowtails

For @phantomphangphucker :)

Prompt: Flynn, due to being Phantom’s aka the Ghost King’s family and part of the Zone’s society, receives a Prince title and is now getting crowned.

Flynn couldn’t put his finger on exactly why, but the Ghost Zone seemed different lately. There was something in the atmosphere, almost. It felt… lighter, maybe?

He didn’t like it.

After all these years in the Ghost Zone, he’d come to regard any change from the norm with suspicion. The tendency had saved his life multiple times. Usually, such changes were caused by a nearby and powerful ghost. Or, on rare and terrifying occasions, a not so nearby and obscenely powerful ghost.

For example, that Pariah Dark guy he’d heard about from some of the ghosts he traded with. Flynn sure was glad someone else had taken care of him. Not that Flynn was much good in a fight against any ghost more powerful than that annoying one in overalls that showed up whenever Flynn so much as thought of making anything even vaguely box-shaped.

Which wasn’t that often. Flynn had never really nailed the whole carpentry thing. Ha. He’d never been super great at the whole square thing either. Because he wasn’t one. Skipped school and everything. The whole high school experience. Ha.

Sometimes he really cracked himself up, but only in the most depressing of ways.

He sighed, heavily. Maybe he should think about spending more time in his hideaway cave, under his cottage (aka his shack, it was a shack, who was he kidding). Stock up on supplies. Get ready to weather a storm. Literal or metaphorical.

But hiding out in the cave was so boring. There wasn’t anything to do down there. Except try to design better grass shoes and to patch his increasingly ragged clothing with limited amounts of thread. He preferred being outside greatly. Even if it was just on his little floating island, messing around in his little garden, growing potatoes and blood blossoms, digging for those crystals ghosts seemed to fear and desire in equal measure.

Flynn was peripherally aware that he was supplying the ghosts he traded with the equivalent of ghost uranium (one of the few human-world things he’d picked up was a middle school science textbook), but…

Yeah. Guy had to eat, and the Ghost Zone didn’t exactly have cops running all over the place, or the United Nations, or… yeah. Honestly, the Ghost Zone didn’t have much of anything, at least not in these parts. It was pretty empty around here.

Just like Flynn’s heart.

Ha.

Yeah. That was a good one.

Eh. Life wasn’t so bad. He was sort-of-kind-of friends with half a dozen undead monsters of questionable morality, had his own house, most of his teeth, and copious free time. Plus, it had been a while since the ‘rocks from nowhere’ decided to trash his roof. Which was bad for the sport he had invented (Chucking Rocks into the Misty Void), but good for roof integrity. And not having a concussion. Or losing any more teeth.

But, back to his original topic.

Flynn glared absently at the Zone at large. Okay, yeah, something was going on. Was it Flynn’s problem? Maybe. Was it directly Flynn’s problem? No. The day was otherwise clear and ‘normal’ (the term being used loosely in the Ghost Zone), so he might as well go about his day—

The sky tore open in front of him.

Flynn recognized that. Before he knew what he was doing, he threw himself away from the portal. The last time he’d stepped through one of those—

The thought crossed his mind that this portal might lead back to Earth, back home, back to Mom. But he knew from his ghostly friends how unlikely it was that the portal would put him anywhere near his home physically, not to mention temporally. It might not even lead back to Earth for that matter.

He took cover behind a boulder, cursing his blasé dismissal of potential danger. Who knew what could come out of a portal? At least according to the ghosts he talked to. Hopefully, nothing came out that he couldn’t beat into submission with his ectoranium staff.

This was going to suck so much.

The portal disgorged three floating eyeball ghosts in voluminous robes.

(One of the other books Flynn had gotten his hands on was a dictionary. Which he had read. Twice. Living on a tiny floating island was boring when it wasn’t terrifying.)

Ah, heck. He could take one ghost. Three? Yeah. Not a chance.

Maybe they’d leave? They couldn’t know for sure he was here. With how unpredictable portals were, and all.

“Flynn Walker,” intoned the central eyeball ghost with a great deal of gravitas.

Flynn’s body did something between a cringe and a blanch.

He was never trusting Globithar the Lapidarist’s tall tales ever again. He wasn’t going to give him any more discounts for them, either. No way to control a portal his scarred left butt cheek.

“Flynn Walker,” repeated the eyeball ghost, now with a touch of annoyance.

“In accordance with the laws of the Infinite Realms,” said the leftmost ghost, in a higher-pitched voice, “we call you to take up your position in the Court of the King of All Ghosts as a member of his family.”

Ah, that ectocontamination Aunt Maddie had sometimes talked about had finally caught up with him, and he was hallucinating something fierce. Either that, or these ghosts thought unbelievable jokes were good bait. They weren’t. Flynn would know. He’d made many unbelievable jokes. They’d never attracted anything but groans.

Ha.

“This is ridiculous,” hissed the third ghost. “He isn’t even a real ghost.”

“He’s more ghostly than Phantom’s sister,” said the second.

“We don’t have any choice about her, though. Can’t we simply… not tell Phantom about this Flynn? Especially if this cousin of his is so craven as to hide at a moment like this.”

Rude, but accurate.

“He’ll find out,” said the first eyeball, tiredly. “He always finds out. Damn Clockwork.”

This was officially too weird for Flynn. Why were they cursing out clocks?

“Because they’re petty and don’t have anything better to do.”

Flynn may or may not have shrieked like a little girl at the voice behind him. The uncertainty was mostly because Flynn hadn’t seen or heard a little girl since he was in the vicinity of his cousin, Jazz, which was years ago. At least a decade.

But he did scream. Loudly. Which he really should know better than to do, living in the Ghost Zone and all. He brought his staff up defensively, too, though, so his self-preservation skills hadn’t completely shorted out.

“Clockwork!” chorused the eyeball ghosts.

“Yes, yes,” said the ghost who’d snuck up on Flynn, flicking imaginary dust off his robe as he smoothly, and dizzyingly, shifted between ages. “I’m sure you’re all very shocked that I’m here, after you just finished complaining about how much I know.” He examined his fingernails. “Now, Mr. Walker—”

“Walker?” shrieked one of the eyeballs.

“Yes, he is related to our illustrious sheriff. As I was saying, I am here to bring you to your cousins, who have risen quite a bit in this world.”

“What.”

“It is, indeed, rather surprising,” said Clockwork. “To those who cannot see the twists and turns of fate. Or those who are willfully blind to those twists and turns.” He eyed the eyeballs.

“What,” repeated Flynn, more forcefully.

“Clockwork,” growled the lead eyeball.

“Allow me to explain,” said Clockwork. “Do you recall your youngest cousin, Daniel?”

“Uh,” said Flynn. He adjusted his grip on his staff. “Vaguely?”

“He was crowned King of All Ghosts a few weeks ago. As a member of his family and an active participant in ghost society, you are automatically a member of the court. Assuming you wish to be, of course.”

“You- You’re saying I have family here.”

“Indeed.”

“Like, Aunt Maddie?”

Something odd passed over Clockwork’s face. “No. Your cousins. Daniel, specifically.”

“Wait, wait, he was a baby. Wouldn’t he only be, like, ten or something?”

“Fifteen,” corrected Clockwork.

“How did he die?”

“You will have to ask him that,” said Clockwork. He raised an eyebrow. “If you would like, you can sleep on this and I will return tomorrow.”

Flynn bit his lip. Hard. Okay. He wasn’t dreaming. And- And this ghost didn’t seem to be lying. What would the point of that even be, anyway? Flynn was nothing. He didn’t have anything they could possibly gain by lying like this.

“I’ll go with you,” said Flynn.

“Excellent,” said Clockwork, clapping his hands. “Then let us away to the castle.”

Well. That was certainly a castle. Or a palace? Flynn wasn’t sure of the difference. The ghosts hadn’t lied about that, at least.

It was a big step up from Flynn’s house. Which, honestly, more deserved the title of hovel. Or perhaps shack.

Or even hole, when compared to all this. Dear god, this place was fancy.

Flynn hunched his shoulders, feeling out of place even as Clockwork led him deeper into the massive edifice.

Come on, Flynn, he thought furiously at himself. Some of these people aren’t even wearing skin. You are not underdressed.

Clockwork brought him to a normally sized (which was, incidentally, not a given in this place, which contained both huge and tiny doors) door with understated but elegant carvings. “Here are your rooms,” said the ghost. “You will find a selection of clothing in your size in the wardrobe, and the bathroom is fully stocked and human safe.”

“Human safe?”

“Human safe.”

That was ominous.

“There is a bell in the room that will summon a servant should you need one. I will collect you for dinner in three hours. Long enough for you to relax, I should hope.”

Or long enough for him to worry himself into pieces and chew on their curtains.

… There would be curtains, right? This place had to be fancy enough to rate curtains.

He opened the door.

Lots of curtains. Lovely.

No, really. It had been so, so long since he’d seen curtains. He might be crying.

Oh, gosh, that bed looked so nice and soft. He wanted to—

Wait, no, he was filthy. Filthy. Covered in years’ worth of grime. He hadn’t had a proper bath since he’d still been living with his mom.

Pathetic, right?

There was a human-safe bathroom in here somewhere. Beyond the snark, he was looking forward to having a human-safe bath. He was craving a human-safe bath. With clean water and soap.

Could the bathroom also have toothbrushes? Toothpaste? Unrestrained luxury.

The bathroom door was in the same style as the outer door, but the handle was different, lighter. The inside was tiled and surprisingly modern.

There was a sink.

He played with the sink faucet for several long minutes before remembering that he’d come in to take a bath.

He spent several minutes playing with the bathtub faucet.

Then he got into the bathtub and experienced a half hour of combined panic (he didn’t really know how baths worked anymore, and the sensations were weird) and nirvana (the sensations were also good).

He had to keep cycling the water. Because he made it so, so dirty. He sank into the water, up to his chin.

When he got out of the water, he decided his hair was a lost cause. Because it was always a lost cause. Only, it was even more of a lost cause now, because it was also wet and had been stripped of its usual protective layer of oils.

There was a variety of toothbrushes and toothpastes available. He tested them out and discovered that he would probably need the services of a dentist. A good one. Were there ghost dentists? There had to be ghost dentists. They had a lot of teeth. A lot of teeth. Sharp, scary, teeth.

Ugh. His baby cousin was a ghost. He’d probably have teeth like a shark. When he’d last seen him, he’d hardly even had any teeth at all. Because. Baby. Little, tiny, baby.

Who Flynn barely knew.

Why did he even want Flynn? Or was it just some weird ghost tradition thing?

Ghosts were weird. Anything could be possible.

He flopped face-first onto the bed. His bed? His temporary and maybe permanent bed. If he was allowed to stay here.

Oh, gosh. Clockwork and the eyeballs seemed to know how to make portals. Could they make a portal back to the human world? To Earth?

To Flynn’s proper time?

To Mom?

He missed Mom so much, even after all this time.

(Dad? Not so much. He hardly remembered the man.)

He wouldn’t know until he asked, he supposed. But asking maybe-royalty would be scary. Talking to all these powerful ghosts was scary enough by itself.

Ehhhh, he thought he’d gotten rid of his more cowardly side by now. He was living in the scariest place out of the world.

Ha.

Yeah.

He crawled out of the bed, dragging his nice, clean self to the wardrobe. Oh, boy. Many clothes. He hadn’t even seen so many clothes since the last time he’d been in department store. Incredible.

They were so fancy, too. He didn’t know how to choose.

He didn’t even know how to wear half of these things. At least half of them.

He began to tease lengths of fabric from the wardrobe and lay them on his bed. Some of them looked cool. And also the kind of thing that he’d destroy just by touching it.

Except he had already touched them, and they hadn’t been destroyed yet. Yet.

Oh, cool, there was underwear. Wow. It had been a while.

Okay. The bed was incredibly nice, but somehow too nice. Like, no nap nice.

He wanted to take a nap.

But no nap was occurring.

The bed was too soft. Ugh. This was like the thing in that one war novel he’d read when he was probably way too young to read it.

He groaned. He hadn’t thought that was real. He’d thought it was an exaggeration, or just drama. Or something.

He crawled off onto the floor and the wonderfully plush carpet.

Maybe he could sleep here.

He woke up to a faint knocking sound and rolled sideways under cover. What cover? Oh. Bed. That was the bed. He was in the room. In the castle. The ghost king’s castle.

His baby cousin’s castle.

He was going to cry. This was so weird.

Embarrassed, he rolled back out from under the bed and threw on the first clothes that came to hand. Which. Might not have been the best of ideas. But, hey, he was dressed now.

He stumbled over to the door and spent several long, embarrassing seconds sleepily remembering how to open doors with this type of handle. Eventually, though, he managed it.

Clockwork was standing there. One of his eyebrows went up. “Interesting choice.”

Flynn looked down. Orange and green went fine together. What was he talking about?

Forget it, he wasn’t about to develop a sense of social shame after living in a hut for a decade or so.

“Come, now. Your cousins are expecting you.”

Flynn briefly considered ducking out, phasing through the floor and out of the castle using a tangibility trick he’d picked up a couple of years back. At least, that would spare him from this ‘diner’ he was rapidly approaching.

He decided not to do that. Running away wasn’t his style.

(Who was he kidding? That was definitely his style. He would have run away so, so much if he had anywhere to run to.)

(It wasn’t like he could exactly fight ghosts on even footing. Each and every one of them had Martian Manhunter’s powerset.)

“Don’t be afraid, Flynn,” said Clockwork, looking back over his shoulder.

“Do you, like, read minds?”

Clockwork chuckled. “Only the future.” He swung the large, gilded door open.

Inside, there was a long table, set with silvery plates. There were a small group of children beyond it. One of them waved at him. Was that Danny?

Flynn took a deep breath and walked forward, back to his family.

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 2021 #flynn walker #clockwork

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sturchling · 4 years ago

Text

Salt-Fic September Day 7: I’m Gonna Call You Karen

The class was incredibly excited for next week, when summer break begins. Why? Because their good friend Lila had got them a trip to Gotham for the first week of the break. “I’m very close with the Wayne family. Bruce thinks of me like a daughter. When I asked if we could have a class trip to Gotham, he agreed immediately and offered to sponsor the whole thing. He is excited to have me back in Gotham. I’m even going to the manor for dinner a couple times while we are there.” The class was in awe of this amazing girl, and very thankful to her for getting them the trip. Unlike some other people in the class. Marinette, Nino, Nathaniel, and Alix had all seemed bitter when Lila announced the trip. The rest of the class couldn’t understand it, but they weren’t going to waste their time on their jealous classmates, they had a trip to get ready for.

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What the class didn’t know is that Lila was lying about the whole thing. Marinette is the one who had gotten the class the trip. She was the one who knew the Waynes for several years. Apparently, her mother had studied abroad at one point, in America. While she was there, she meant Bruce and they had been close friends ever since. When Bruce adopted Tim, Sabine started brining Marinette with her when she visited Gotham since the two kids were about the same age. The two kids became close and started a long-distance relationship when they were older. Marinette also became close with Tim’s brothers.

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Marinette had been talking with the family when she mentioned that the class still didn’t have a class trip. The boys immediately suggested a class trip to Gotham and with a little pleading, they got Bruce to agree. Bruce set the class up in a nice hotel in a safe area of the city. He also planned several activities for the class, including a tour of the Wayne Enterprises head office.

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Marinette was so excited to share the news, but realized that if the class knew she had gotten them the trip, they wouldn’t want to go purely because she is the one who organized it. So, Marinette asked Mrs. Bustier to keep it a secret that Marinette had organized the trip. The plan did work and the class was excited for the trip. But there was one problem with Marinette keeping it a secret. It gave Lila the opportunity to regale the class with a new lie. But Marinette was fine with it, so long as the class enjoyed the trip, who cared who organized it?

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The day for the class to leave came quickly and the class gathered at the airport. They chatted excitedly about this new adventure and several of them were happy to have a break from akumas and Hawkmoth. Marinette was worried about leaving Paris, but she had the horse miraculous with her, just in case. They arrived in Gotham and were escorted to the hotel. Lila kept talking up how close she was to the Wayne family. None of the class noticed the looks those comments got from the locals. The locals knew that the Waynes were extremely private and that there was little chance this girl actually knew them. Especially when she kept messing up details of the family, like how old some of the Wayne boys were. But the class was oblivious to it all.

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To keep up the charade, Lila disappeared for a few hours every night, pretending to be at the manor. In actuality, she was hiding in the library where she knew none of her classmates would go during their free time. Meanwhile, Marinette was actually at the manor. She would go over almost every night they were there to be with Tim, hang out with the other boys, or just to have dinner. Marinette was having a wonderful time, despite the mean comments and looks she got every time she left the hotel to go to the manor. Little did she know, this was about to become the best trip ever.

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It was the final day of their stay, and they were ending the trip with the tour of Wayne Enterprises. Tim had promised he would try to meet Marinette at the lunch break, but his schedule was really busy now that he was working with Bruce and helping run Wayne Enterprises. That day, Lila decided that she needed to really impress the class. She planned on throwing the Wayne name around in the Wayne Enterprises building to get the staff there to meet her every whim. That was sure to impress the class.

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Throughout the tour, Lila had been telling crazy stories about ‘her time in Gotham and with the Waynes’. While most people in the building were sure the girl was lying, there were some that tripped over themselves to do whatever the girl told them to do, on the off chance that she did know the Waynes. Then Lila made a major mistake.

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The class was in the cafeteria for their lunch break when Tim and the rest of the Wayne boys walked in. They made a bee line for Marinette and instantly started chatting and laughing with the young designer. This got the class’ interest. Who were these guys, and how did Marinette know them? Lila did not like that the attention had shifted to Marinette. She did not like it at all. Then she noticed one of the guys, who looked about their age, had a Wayne Enterprises badge on. Lila knew that this meant he worked here. Lila knew she had to get rid of these guys to get the attention she craved back, so she made her move.

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Lila walked up to Marinette and her new friends and tapped on the man with the badge’s shoulder. They all stopped their conversation and stared at Lila. Lila spoke with a commanding voice, “I’m thirsty and need something to drink. Go get me some water.” The boys around Marinette looked at this young girl in shock. The man with the badge simply said, “No.” and went back to his conversation. Lila was embarrassed at the response and tapped on his shoulder again. “Look, I am really close with the Waynes. If you don’t do what I say, I can get you fired easily.” The boys looked at each other and started howling with laughter. One of them, with a streak of white in his hair was wheezing and said, “Oh man, that is too funny. ‘I know the Waynes’, yeah right.” The class stood and stared at the group in shock.

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Lila was fuming at how these guys were treating her. Why didn’t they jump to do what she said like everyone else? Lila pulled out her trump card. She tapped the man with the badge one more time and said in a sickly-sweet voice, “I hate to do this, but I’m going to need to speak with your manager.” That started a new round of laughter which confused everyone. The guy with the white streak in his hair gathered his breathe long enough to say, “Oh my god! I don’t you’re your name, but I’m going to call you Karen.” The laughter started all over again when the boys heard that comment. When the guys stopped laughing, Lila asked “What’s so funny?” The man with the badge said, “Getting my manager would be hard to do. My name is Timothy Drake-Wayne and I help run the company. And I have never met you before.” Lila froze in shock. There weren’t supposed to be any Waynes here.

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Alya stood up, ready to defend her friend. “What do you mean you have never met her? This is Lila Rossi. She practically grew up in the manor while her mom was working here. Bruce Wayne considers her to be like a daughter to him.” The man the class now knows is Tim says, “Look, neither me or my brothers here have ever seen this girl. She is a liar. The only person in this room that we consider family is Marinette.” The class stood in stunned silence. How did Marinette know the Waynes? Tim turned back to face the liar. “Miss, I will be nice and not get lawyers involved. But if you don’t stop lying about my family, we won’t have any choice but to get them involved. Now, I believe that you have over stayed your welcome. You will be escorted back to the hotel.” Lila is quickly escorted out by security at Tim’s word. The class couldn’t believe it.

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Alya tried to defend her friend, but was quickly shut down by the eldest of the group. “Young lady, I would recommend you google your friend. That will prove that she is nothing but a liar.” The class pulled out their phones and looked for any proof that Lila was telling the truth. But the only source they found was the LadyBlog. Before the class could say anything to Marinette, she was swept away by the Wayne boys, leaving the class behind in the cafeteria. They tried to speak to her on the way back to Paris, but Marinette decided to stay behind in Gotham for a while longer.

---------------------

When she finally did return to Paris, she accepted their apologies, but they weren’t as good friends as they used to be. Lila tried to charm the class again, but the spell had been broken and she had completely lost her control. Lila left the school quickly after that, to try and find a new group of suckers to manipulate. Marinette never heard from Lila again. She eventually moved to Gotham to be with Tim and she was very happy with how her life turned out. But Marinette would always say that the highlight of her life would be watching Lila’s face as she heard Tim’s full name and realized how badly she had messed up.

Hope you guys liked it! @maribat-central-official

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joshjacksons · 3 years ago

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Joshua Jackson interview with "Mr Porter" (2021)

Minutes before Mr Joshua Jackson joins me in a booth for a Friday afternoon drink at a vibey hotel bar in Santa Monica, he’s confronted by his past. Or rather, a woman in her early twenties who is binge-watching Dawson’s Creek, the teen show about a close-knit group of high-school friends coming of age in a sleepy American town, which made Jackson incredibly famous between 1998 and 2003. The series, which also made household names of Ms Michelle Williams and Ms Katie Holmes, went off air 18 years ago, but is now streaming on Netflix, to the bemusement of Jackson, who played lovable rogue Pacey Witter. “This girl was like, ‘Are you...?’ And I’m like, ‘Yes, I am. He got old. I’m sorry to break it to you,’” he says, before ordering an iced tea and a charcuterie board to tide him over until dinner time. “It always surprises me when young people say they’ve just got into Dawson’s Creek. I’m like, ‘Is it a costume drama to you? Do you feel like you’re watching a historical documentary?’”

The idea of a Friends-style reunion episode or a Sex And The City revival feels equally far-fetched to Canadian-born Jackson, now 43 and wearing it well in a pale green linen shirt and tailored linen trousers by Oliver Spencer that complement his fading brown hair and Cali-tanned skin.

“I don’t know why you’d want to [bring it back],” he says. “Nobody needs to know what those characters are doing in middle age. We left them in a nice place. Nobody needs to see that Pacey’s back hurts. I don’t think we need that update.”

And Jackson doesn’t need Dawson’s Creek. From Mr JJ Abrams’ sci-fi series Fringe (2008-2013) to the Golden Globe award-winning The Affair (2014-2019), from Ms Ava DuVernay’s ground-breaking true-crime drama When They See Us (2019) to the recent Ms Reese Witherspoon and Ms Kerry Washington-produced Little Fires Everywhere (2020), he has commanded the small screen – with a collection of dynamic and diverse work – ever since.

His latest role as Mr Christopher Duntsch, the Texas surgeon convicted of gross malpractice when 33 of his patients were left seriously injured after he operated on them and two of them died, in chilling Peacock crime drama Dr Death, is only stepping his career up another gear.

“I’ve never played anyone irredeemable before,” says Jackson, who is joined in the eight-part series (based on the 2018 Wondery podcast of the same name) by Messrs Christian Slater and Alec Baldwin. “He is charming, gregarious and has a high-level intellect, but he’s also a misogynist, probably a sociopath, certainly a narcissist and a complete incompetent who is incapable of seeing himself.”

If Duntsch is terrifying, then Jackson’s portrayal is even more so. The artist formerly known as Pacey is virtually unrecognisable (thanks to prosthetics) in the opening scene, but the real challenge for Jackson was allowing himself to view someone who is so “spectacularly evil” as a human being in order to walk in his shoes. “It’s a more damning portrayal of the man to make him into a human being, rather than just make him the bad guy,” he says. “He really believes he’s the hero, he’s the genius and that he’s the victim, so once I got past my own judgment, all the other things fell into place.”

Jackson might have his pick of stellar roles – and challenges – now, but it has not happened by accident. Take it from someone who has been in the business since landing his first job aged 14 in Disney’s live-action movie series The Mighty Ducks, opposite Brat Pack alumnus Mr Emilio Estevez.

“You try to make it look like it happens accidentally,” he says, “but there is no way to do this and not be ambitious. I’d say I’m extremely ambitious because I’ve been doing this cutthroat job for nearly 30 years. I’m in the pay-off phase of my career now. One of the benefits of surviving for as long as I have is you get to learn from your own mistakes.”

Such as? “I wouldn’t say, ‘I wish I hadn’t done that,’ because it all becomes bricks in a path, but [after Dawson’s Creek] I was not choosy enough about the things I was doing. You get stuck. You start trying to perform the performance you think people are hoping to see you do. I was so used to working all the time that I just worked all the time. There was definitely a conscious moment in my mid-twenties when I realised I wasn’t really enjoying the work that I was doing. My manager at the time just said, ‘Take a breath. You’re burnt out.’”

The turning point came in 2005, when Jackson was offered a role in the two-hander Mr David Mamet play A Life In The Theatre, opposite Sir Patrick Stewart. “God bless him, Patrick could have made my life miserable because I had no idea what I was doing, ” he says. “I hadn’t been on stage since I was a kid and now I was in the West End in over my head. But it reminded me that I actually enjoyed being an actor, that it’s not about the red carpet or travelling around the world. What I really enjoy is working on good material with good people.”

It’s no surprise Jackson’s time on Dawson’s Creek led to a career crisis. From the ages of 19 to 24, he lived with his fellow cast mates in Wilmington, North Carolina, filming day in, day out, in an arrangement he likens to college. “You get to the end and they’re like, ‘Here’s your degree. Go live now. You’re an adult. Go out into the world,’” he says.

But most graduates don’t have to deal with global fame. “It’s transitory. You’re only ever cool for a moment and then you become much less cool. I was always pretty dubious about flatterers,” he says, recalling a time he was stung in London in the mid-2000s. “I went on a date in Hyde Park with a woman whose name I will not use – she was socialite-famous – and she was acting completely bizarre, looking over her shoulder the whole time. I came to find out that she had hired a photographer to follow us through the park and gave a whole story to the tabloids about how I was going to meet her family.”

It was his growing fortune, rather than fame, that caused Jackson the most anxiety. “Suddenly, at 19 years old, I was making more in a week than most of my friends’ parents would make in a year,” he says. “It was lovely to have the money, but it was that feeling of nobody is worth that kind of money. You feel like a fraud and it took me a long time to forgive myself for not being the thing that I was perceived as.”

Born in Vancouver, but raised in Topanga, California, until he was eight (before moving back to Vancouver following his parents’ divorce), Jackson bought his childhood home in 2001 and lives in it today with his wife, British Queen & Slim actor Ms Jodie Turner-Smith, and their 15-month-old daughter.

“My father unfortunately was not a good father or a husband and exited the scene, but that house in Topanga was where everything felt simple, so it was a very healing thing for me to do,” he says. Fast-forward to 2021 and his baby daughter now sleeps in her father’s childhood bedroom. “There was a mural of a dragon on the wall in that room that I couldn’t believe was still there, years later. The owner [who sold him the house] said, ‘I knew it meant a lot to somebody and that they were going to come back for it some day.’”

Becoming a first-time parent during a pandemic sounds stressful, but it afforded Jackson months at home with his wife and child that his normal work schedule wouldn’t have allowed.

“I now recognise how perverse the way that we have set up our society is,” he says. “There is not a father I know who works a regular job who didn’t go back to the office a week later. It’s robbing that man of the opportunity to bond with his child and spend time with his partner.”

Despite his obvious career ambitions, fatherhood has changed Jackson’s priorities in “every possible way”, he says. “It’s 100 per cent changed how I approach my work and my life. That has been made so clear to me in this past year. For me to feel good about what I’m doing day to day, my family has to be the central focus.

“There are plenty of things left for me to do, but now the thing that gets me excited is experiencing the world through my daughter’s eyes. I can’t wait to take her scuba diving. I can’t wait to take her skiing. I can’t wait to read a great book with her. I’m not worried at all she’ll be a wallflower. She’s been a character from the word go.”

Jackson met Turner-Smith, 34, two days after his 40th birthday. He had been single since his 10-year relationship with German actress Ms Diane Kruger ended in 2016. “I was not looking to fall in love again or meet the mother of my child, but life has other plans for you,” he says.

The couple met at a party. Turner-Smith was wearing the same The Future Is Female Ejaculation T-shirt Ms Tessa Thompson’s character, Detroit, wears in the 2018 film Sorry To Bother You. “That’s what I used to break the ice. I shouted, ‘Detroit!’ across the room. Not the smoothest thing I’ve ever done, but it worked. We were pretty much inseparable from the word go. It was a whirlwind romance and I can tell my daughter I literally saw her mother across a room and thought, ‘I have to be next to this woman.’”

A self-confessed “useless” shopper, Jackson gives his wife full credit for his current wardrobe. He is jewellery-free, apart from a wedding band and a gold signet “JJ” ring on his little finger (a present from his wife), and discovered tailored sweatsuits (by Stampd and Reigning Champ) in the pandemic.

“Jodie has influence in the way that a wonderful wife encourages you, through love, to dress well. She was like, ‘We’re going to throw away all the sweatpants from your past and I’m going to get you some that actually make you look like an adult male and you will still feel comfortable around the house,’ and I’m like, ‘What an amazing idea!’ Who knew you could get sweatsuits that actually look good on your body?”

Jackson’s style has evolved, he says, “from slovenly teen to it’s-nice-when-your-clothes-actually-fit-you”. The penny dropped after he auditioned for his former co-star Estevez, who was directing the 2006 Mr Robert Kennedy biopic Bobby. He said to me, ‘You only got this job because I know you. You came in here to play a very well-put together 1960s political operative and you’re wearing jeans and a hoodie.’

“I had to grow up a little bit. We are very much raised in Canada to never, ever show off, so it took me a while to recognise it’s OK to look good when you go out.”

Still, when you’ve grown up in front of the camera, “every pimple literally documented”, and lived (very successfully) to tell the tale, you can probably be forgiven for the odd fashion faux pas.

“I wore a silk Ascot to an event once in Paris and I still have nightmares about it,” he says. “I looked like Fred from Scooby Doo, but you live and learn.”

#joshua jackson #interviews #jodie turner smith #dawson's creek #dr death #fringe #emilio estevez #mr porter #patrick stewart #michelle williams #katie holmes

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sarahjtv · 3 years ago

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BNHA Chapter 327 Spoiler Analysis: Home Sweet Home

OH MY GOD, GUYS!!! DEKU GETS A BATH!!!! 🎉🛁 🧼 My broccoli boy finally gets squeaky clean, gets some sleep, and we finally get some R&R time with the Class 1-A kids. It’s not close to the happy-go-lucky days of old, but it’s some time with the kids nonetheless. I’m glad Horikoshi put some heart and humor in this chapter because god knows we needed it. But, let’s be real, this is the calm before the storm:

The chapter starts off with what everyone and Horikoshi has been wanting for Deku since he went on his mission: A motherfuckin’ bath 🛀 🧼🛁! Kaminiari and Kirishima lead the Class 1-A boys to carry Deku into their side of the UA Alliance bathhouse (looks real nice btw) and give him a good power-wash. The whole sequence is very comical! The boys are rushing in and poor Deku has this O_O face on him like “what is happening?” 😂 We also see some of the boys butt naked 😳 It’s clear that Horikoshi had fun drawing this thing and it was fun to read 💚

Bakugo is with them of course and you can actually see his scars from when Shigaraki stabbed him. He’s not bleeding, but you can see those scar patches on his skin. I’m curious of how fan artist are going to draw him from now on. I would like to see that fan art 👀

There’s also some bubble sfx coving Bakugo’s crotch and a translator said it might say dick or penis. I’m curious what the officials will say.

But, Bakugo being Bakugo is still aggressive towards his classmates. More playfully than before, but still. He reminds everyone that he still intends on being the best there is and that everyone is still his rivals (also friends, Bakugo). HE EVEN MAKES AN ATTEMPT TO CALL DEKU IZUKU! LIKE HE ALMOST SAID “DEKU” BUT HE CHANGED IT TO IZUKU AT THE LAST MINUTE! AND DEKU SAYS THAT CALLING HIM DEKU IS JUST FINE LIKE THAT ANGER THAT ORIGINATED FROM THE NICKNAME ISN’T THERE ANYMORE AND IT’S A FREINDLY NICKNAME BKDK FRIENDSHIP GROWTH YOU LOVE TO SEE IT 🧡💚

After Deku’s bath, he’s sitting in the commons talking to the rest of Class 1-A. Well, most of them. Mina tells Deku that Ochako and a few other students went to bed after everything became ok again. So, I definitely didn’t see Tsuyu, and it looks like Shoji, Aoyama, and Hagakare weren’t in this chapter either. Ochako I understand; her speech must’ve been emotionally taxing. Aoyama and Hagakare are the top suspects for being the traitor in the fandom and this isn’t helping their cases. I don’t know about Tsuyu and Shoji though. They’re both mutant-types, but characters like Ojiro or mutant-like people like Jiro, Mina or Tokoyami didn’t get outcasted. Horikoshi did hint that Shoji would be getting something soon. But, I really am just speculating here.

Now that Deku’s back, everyone has questions for him. Though I understand why, this has gotta be overwhelming for Deku. At least they’re not mad at him for hiding OFA. They seem very understanding actually.

Then my ❄️🔥 boy, Shoto Todoroki, comes in all handsome right out of the baths 💙 He’s drying his right side while you can see a steam cloud on his left. So, it is canon that Shoto drys himself naturally with his heat. His entrance is so pretty that even Mineta’s questioning it (shut up, Mineta, you’ll never be as beautiful as him). And yes, I might be a Shoto simp, don’t judge me I see y’all too 👀

Anyway, Shoto asks everyone to let Deku sleep since that was pretty much the whole reason they brought him back. Problem is, Deku can’t because he really needs to apologize to All Might for abandoning him. AND AFTER HE SAYS THAT THERE’S A DETAILED PANEL OF SHOTO POINTING TO ALL MIGHT LIKE “UH, MIDORIYA? HE’S RIGHT THERE” AND ALL MIGHT LOOKING FROM THE WINDOW LIKE A HORROR VILLAIN WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE 😭

All Might comes in and apologizes to Deku for not being able to support him when he needed it, but Deku says that All Might support him more than enough. Mina also scolds All Might for not saying anything when he left. She wants All Might to apologize to everyone for that. Though I’m glad Deku and All Might have reconciled (I honestly thought that last convo between them was going to be THE LAST for a hot minute), Mina has a point. All Might did bail on all of them without any warning. Kinda messed up in general.

All Might apologizes and he is going to fight with everyone regardless of his physical state so that he can see that flame continue to shine. However, he warns the kids that they got info on the villains and that the final decisive battle is coming soon. If the whole “Final Arc” thing hasn’t been hammered into your head, there you go. I’m also glad that Stain’s speech did end up motivating All Might further. Who knew?

So, All Might is off to help Endeavor since he’s got unfinished business to take care of. But, the kids are wondering why Endeavor (and probably Hawks) isn’t entering UA entirely yet. Shot reminds them that Endeavor is still connected to Dabi and that his presence alone would cause more discourse. People’s minds can’t change that easily. Shoto of all people would know.

As Deku FINALLY SLEEPS 💤 and Shoto puts a blanket over him (possibly warmed by his left side 🔥) 💙💚 Shoto acknowledges how his presence might be making people anxious too even though it’s not his fault at all (thank you, Kirishima for doubling down on this btw ❤️🪨). But, things are different and Shoto’s going to show that so that everyone can be at ease like he wants as a hero. There’s even this sweet small smile on his beautiful face as he says this. He’s grown so much and he’s pretty to boot I love him so much *HANDS IN FACE* 💙❄️🔥

EVEN KIRISHIMA’S CRYING FROM HOW MANLY SHOTO IS I LOVE THESE KIDS!!!!

And now Jiro steps up and says her piece. That she knows how hard it is to convince everyone to change their minds for the better. Like with those two critics from the Culture Fest. Even so, they accomplished this before, so she thinks they can do it again. She even gathers all the band members to emphasize on this. I love how Jiro uses her earphone jacks to rally the band and how she literally drags Bakugo by the shirt for a cute group shot. None of these kids are afraid of Bakugo anymore LOL 😂! Also, Momo is the tallest out of all of them in this line up shot (except for Bakugo who’s still being dragged on the ground). I think she’s roughly 5ft 6-7 inches? She’s the tallest of the girls I know that, but damn. She towers all of them. Even me... She’s also very pretty in this shot and it’s her birthday as I’m posting this, so happy b-day Momo ❤️

And we get a beautiful panel of Jiro leading everyone to make sure that they’ll go beyond with making everything better than it was before. We get a nice group shot of the rest of the class agreeing with her with a smile including Shoto with a small one (did I mention that I love him?) 💙💙💙 And Deku’s in the center still sleeping away. I hope he has good dreams *kisses forehead*💚 And go Jiro for stepping up to the plate too 💜! All these kids have grown so much. There is a light at the end of the tunnel.

Finally, the last pages show Endeavor, Hawks, and Best Jeanist going somewhere, maybe Tartarus. They got info out of Dr. Ujiko via polygraph and the Nomu Research Group at Central Hospital. They predict that they have 2 months until Shigaraki’s ready to go again, so they’ll need 1 month of preparation. But, the info Stain gave All Might gave them more info. His letter ended up being a personal letter to All Might (Stain really is that nuts...), but there was a microchip in the blade Stain left containing the security records from Tartarus. It’s not stated how this info affected the mission at hand, but it sounds like it has to do something with the time frame. So, I’m curious if they have less time to prepare or more? Given how this is the Final Arc, Imma say less.

Finally, the teaser asks “How are the villains moving?” I wonder if that means we’re switching to the villain’s next week. I would love to hang out with the kids more, but I would also like to know what our villains are up to. Like, where the hell is Himiko Toga? Is Spinner still questioning shit? What happened to Mr. Compress after he mauled himself to help Shigaraki and the others escape? Also I think we need more info on this dude’s backstory given he’s the grandson of the famous Robin Hood villain who’s name definitely didn’t escape me... 😐 Is Dabi laughing his ass off from the utter chaos he started? Is AFO still smiling like the evil mastermind he is? Is Shigaraki as crispy as he was earlier? I was going to ask about Twice but... 😭

So, yeah! Love this chapter. Really good transition chapter into whatever happens next. I’m kinda sad we didn’t see Deku fight off more past villains during his vigilante days. We got Muscular and Overhaul and I think that’s it? Didn’t see any of Overhaul’s minions or that teeth-blade villain (Fish-something?; he broke out, but we haven’t seen him since) or Re-Destro or his goons. I don’t count as Gentle or LaBrava as villains anymore and they were never truly evil to begin with. Regardless, it was a really cool arc to see a more dark side of Deku. I’m really glad Horikoshi made great use of his bunny hood and metal mask finally. Deku really did look demonic for some time. Also, seeing Deku badass is always a plus. And seeing the deconstruction of hero society and the possible reconstruction of it was really good too. Not everything is sunshine and rainbows, unfortunately, but we can do our best to make it that way.

I’m also glad that we finally got our kids back in top form. Not just being heroes, but being teenagers too. They all had great moments especially Iida, Ochako, and now Shoto as they should. But, Bakugo’s apology was peak for me. Over 320 chapters of development and build-up lead to that moment and it really is one of the best in the series. It lives in my head rent free.

So, we got 1-2 months in-manga-time until what is probably the final battle of the series. God, I can’t believe we’re actually nearing the end of this series. I started reading it back in 2018 when shit was rough for me. I found this series after listening to the music and reading the hype around it. I watched the show then I read the manga and it really helped me. Saved me from a dark place actually. I will miss this series when it’s done and I will be greatly for the joy Horikoshi has gifted us. I’ll try to save the farewells for later. I’d say this series has at least 1-1 1/2 years to go.

Me @ the kids and All Might:

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ladyloveandjustice · 3 years ago

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I watched the most recent Batman movie, and yeah, I wish I liked it more than I did.Some of the things the movie was trying to do were nice, and it definitely seemed to be pushing back against the edgelord vengeance interp of Batman and get back to the roots a little, but it really didn’t stick the landing. The attempts to be class conscious were like...it’s nice that it tried I guess? But it sure couldn’t follow through! Thoughts below!

I also just. didn’t buy the central romance mostly because of Bruce being such a tool, which was purposeful, but! The entire movie is him violating boundaries, pushing Selina around and telling her what to do, and then he learns he's wrong, but then he goes back to telling her what to do, but this time it’s because he cares and he’s saving her from herself or whatever so that’s fine. Like honestly, I’ve mentioned I think the “let’s not kill” could be compelling and wonderful to bring back, but it needs to be implemented in a way that isn’t hypocritical and doesn’t suck, and of course they failed to do that. Even a small change like Bruce just saying to “you don’t have to pay” rather than literally ripping the gun out of her hand, him letting her make the choice rather than taking it away from her, would have made it better. It tried to call Bruce out on things, but still presented him being the person who’s Right and gets to make the decisions for you know, the lower income woman of color going after her abusive father.

I think there was supposed to be respect for Selina at the end with her going her own way and him being like “yeah”, but it was just too little too late imo. I like the actress, I liked the character, it’s just that the way she was denied agency at every turn except the end where she at least got to leave sucked, and Bruce being the one who denied it sucked. (also why can’t they just let Selina sometimes be a step ahead of Bruce or be a challenge for him in a fight, like she is in the comics, let her be that).

Plus, the point that this guy was going to walk if nobody killed him was never addressed. Instead they chickened out and had some non-Selina person kill him so Bruce didn’t have to deal with the consequences of convincing her to let him live. Batman not wanting to kill his is most effective when it shows how his decisions not to kill his villains can play out in positive ways. Like Harley getting better, that time the Riddler briefly reformed, or Two Face or Mr. Freeze or any number of villains being sympathetic. Like you can give him effective reasons to have this ethos! But when you don’t show that hope and instead have flat villains he gets spared only for the story to kill them two seconds later anyway, or don’t show Bruce having to actually do something to address the failings of the law, what’s the point? And that’s where the movie just kind of flounders.

(also its so undercut by Bruce clearly indirectly causing SO many casualties in that car chase and not caring at all like what the fuck, how do you have the right to lecture anyone)

It’s also just that Bruce being wildly unpleasant in ways I specifically find super annoying (being controlling and gross toward the woman he interacted with, not having much sympathy for the fact Selina’s friend was missing or for anyone much at all) just made it not something I’d want to rewatch even if the point was for him to get better.

So yeah, I liked what it was trying to go for but it was unable to really commit in ways that would have made it actually incisive or good. It just went with “actually turns out some politicians and cops are good so it will be fine” and didn’t really talk about ways Bruce or Gotham would have to do the hard work to change, nor did it have the courage for Bruce to actually step back and not be ultimately Right about what Selina should do with her life or whatever, which he would have needed to do to redeem how he treated her.

also it was just too long. Too many things going on, too much of a slog in the third act.

Also I liked the idea of going back to detective stuff, but then Bruce actually failed at solving the mystery in time so...I dunno.

And considering my ambivalent feelings toward ALL the live action movies it could be I just don’t care if Robin or Batgirl aren’t there, but no, I think I could. you just need to give me something guys.

#movie thoughts #batman

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elphiej · 4 years ago

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Be My Light - Chapter 3: Try to Stay Calm and Move on.

*Genre: Mafia, angst, eventual smut, slow burn

*Warnings: references to drug usage/ withdrawal, reference to sexual situations/ sex work/ trafficking.

Author’s note: Hi everyone! I hope you enjoy the next chapter. True to my style, it’s a little long but I think it flows well enough. Thank you for those who have commented on my previous chapters. I very much appreciate it. Thank you for your patients as well; work has been busy and I found out I had covid. I’m ok now but it did set me back a bit in finishing this. As always, please let me know what you think or let me know if you have any comments. I love them and all of you. Please enjoy!

Tag list: @lolalalooo @bangtan-sonyeonddaeng, @barbikatherine, @mrsfortune1306, @lovesick-heart0, @iamnamjoonsbxtch, @deathkat657, @deeepvibes, @sugamonster22 , @weiinihao, @hemmofluke , @rainbow-zebra-unicorns

Chapter 3: Try to Stay Calm and Move On

Central Mercy was one of the largest and most active hospitals in all the city. And as you followed the EMTs through the trauma bay doors, the floor was full of medical staff moving about assessing patients. True to its name, Mercy didn’t discriminate and took in those that smaller practices were too scared to take: gang related cases. They feared retaliation. But Mercy was only interested in saving people. A team from the surgical floor came up beside the fast-moving gurney, listening as the EMT got them up to speed. You added some details, though your eyes never left the man on the gurney; he hadn’t regained consciousness since the police arrived and he seemed even paler than before. One of the nurses whispered that Doctor Na was waiting in the operating theatre. Henry Na was one of the top surgeons in all of Central and you felt a wave of relief knowing that the patient couldn’t be in better hands. But deep down, you knew you wouldn’t be at complete ease until you saw the young man awake and alright. And the fear of the unknown made you not want to lose sight of him.

Before you could question why you felt so drawn to stay by the stranger, one of the nurses put her hands out in front of her and forced you to come to a stop right outside the OR doors. The doors slid shut and you were left alone in the hallway. And that is where the connection should have ended. Doctor Na and his staff would take good care of him, then he’d be transferred to another floor, and you would move on to your own patients. But you couldn’t stop the feeling of wanting to be near the stranger you found in the middle of a gun battle. But why? Could it be because you were a kind-hearted nurse or that you had just gone through a horrific experience together? You had asked him to explain what you had gotten yourself into after all. Perhaps on one of your breaks you could go visit? Was that weird? What would you say? ‘Hi, remember me? I’m the idiot who saved you after you got shot. Want to be friends?’

Honestly, you didn’t think you were so desperate for companionship that you’d try to forge a friendship with some random guy who’s background you didn’t know. What were you expecting- a friendly relationship that could develop into something else? This wasn’t one of those romantic comedies you watched with Amber and, based on your track record, you weren’t that lucky. For all you knew, this guy was just as dangerous as the man with the cane. With the increase in U4-1A cases, was this a drug deal gone bad? It would be a shame if someone that handsome turned out to be a druggie. There were supposedly others that had gotten away; it could be a turf war. There were so many dangerous possibilities that ran through your mind. No, you sighed, it was best just to let it go. If you were meant to see him again, fate would make it so. Then, you would get some answers. But for now, it was time to get to work and move on.

“I’m sure Jax is pulling his hair out by now,” you wondered, out loud. “Wonder what Amber’s going to say.”

You didn’t have to wonder long, for as you turned on your heels, Amber was standing right behind you. Nerves still on edge, you couldn’t help but jump backwards. Amber was the definition of sweet but intimidating as her eyes bore into you. She was thin and lanky, completely swallowed by her baggy scrubs. She had a sharp face with short blonde hair that had been styled with an undercut. That, paired with her piercings and elaborate tattoos that decorated her arms, gave her a strong androgynous look that caught a lot of attention. She stared at you with a look of mixed anxious worry and anger.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Y/N,” she said, leaning in, “what the Pineapple?! Are you crazy or stupid?”

“Is both an option,” you countered, trying to lighten the mood.

Amber reached over and flicked her middle finger against your forehead. “I’m serious, dumbass, you really gave me a heart attack. You didn’t answer my text and I hear from the dispatch that you’re at the scene of a gang shooting?! I can’t begin to tell you the images my brain was coming up with! I thought I’d find you on a stretcher, covered in blood. I mean,” she gave you a meaningful look up and down, “more so than this.”

You followed her gaze and, finally, got a good look at yourself. Your simple grey hoodie was covered in dark, splotchy patterns. The cuffs of your sleeves were dried dark from when you had tried to apply pressure to his wounds, there was a large stain on your side that had soaked through to your scrubs from carrying the young man behind the counter, and splattering decorated all over the rest of you. You were glad that the EMTs let you ride along in the ambulance; it would have made your bus ride more interesting looking like a slasher movie victim.

You held up your hands, defensively. “It’s not mine. I promise, I didn’t get hurt. It’s from the real victim.”

Amber sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. “Come on,” she said, ushering you away from the Operating rooms, “let’s get you cleaned up. I’ll tell Jax what’s going on after I get rid of these clothes. There’s no saving them.”

~*****************~

Having skipped your shower this morning due to time, you were quite thankful for the warm water that eased the anxiety still rampant. Once Amber was satisfied that you weren’t injured, she brought you some new scrubs and bagged up your soiled ones to dispose of them. You were annoyed that you were losing your hoodie, since it was the only one you had since coming to Central and you hadn’t had time to go buy new clothes yet. At least you had packed the extra long sleeve shirt to help against the seasonal chill. Amber had left you a pair of grey scrubs that would help you blend in to your work shift. Once you changed, you made your way to your supervisor’s office. Jax was an older gentleman who always seemed to be on the edge of some emotion. The second he saw you, he flung himself at you and made you swear you were to never scare him to the point of turning his hair grey ever again. It took you promising five times before he let you head to your station.

You weren’t surprised to see Amber sitting at the desk. However, you were surprised to see that she had surrounded herself with a wall of binders and notebooks while she typed away at the computer.

“Are you preparing for an invasion?”

“No, you have to stay away,” Amber cried in the most melodramatic tone she could muster. “You can’t come near me. Flee while you can!”

You tried to contain your laughter with truly little success. “Okay? What happened since I showered? Were you exposed to something or are you just being weird?”

“No, you just have to avoid me! I’m dangerous! I’m a girl with tattoos,” she exclaimed, holding her heavily tattooed arms out for display. “You have to avoid me!”

You almost fell over from how strong you rolled your eyes. “You must have seen Mr. Young this morning.”

“Well, someone had to since you decided to be an action star. And he was extremely disappointed to not see you.”

You sat down in the chair next to her and wrapped your arms around her and rested your chin on her shoulder. “I’ll pop in on him later. For the record, I like your tattoos. I think they’re super cool.”

“Don’t think you being cute with all those compliments are gonna distract me from your stupidity. What the heck were you thinking?”

“I know,” you sighed, “I’m sorry that I worried you.”

“Worried? That doesn’t even begin to describe that. You didn’t answer my call this morning. Then, I get a text from a random number, apparently you. Only to find out about the shooting. I had a feeling something bad was gonna happen this morning. Spill it, Y/N. What happened?” You gave your friend a quick recap from when you left your building to when the police found you behind the counter trying to keep the young man conscious. You decided to leave out the creepy encounter with the man with the cane and the encounter with the other gang member you had hit with the crowbar; you didn’t want her to worry any more than she already was. The entire time, Amber’s face was stern and she had crossed her arms over her chest. “See, this is why you should have just stayed with me at my loft. You’re all alone down there. Clearly I was right about it not being safe.”

“Don’t be like that. I know you keep saying that you didn’t mind me staying with you, but it was time for me to start trying to live my life again. It may not be as nice as your place but it’s mine. And, this incident excluded, nothing bad has ever happened. It’s just that I couldn’t stop thinking about what I went through and being stronger than the bullies. You taught me that.”

“Yeah but I didn’t mean going against a gun wielding psycho. It was a metaphor for the nightmares and that piece of shit you call an ex.”

“I’ll remember that for next time.” You flashed Amber some pleading eyes and pouting lip. “I’m really sorry.”

Amber groaned, but smiled back at you. “You’re lucky I like you. But I get one more bad feeling, I’m dragging you back and never letting you out of my sight.” She slid you a cup of coffee that you greedily took. You were sure that you had lost your tumbler somewhere at the bus stop, never to be seen again. “By the way, what was the random number you texted from? Did you get a new phone without telling me?”

You almost choked on your coffee. You had hoped she wouldn’t have asked about that, knowing full well she was not going to be happy about the answer. You cursed at yourself for texting her from it. But with her staring at you, you knew you couldn’t get around it. You reached into your pocket and handed it to her. She, instantly, knew what it was and snatched it from you.

“Why do you have this still? I thought you got rid of it?”

“I didn’t mean to grab it. I was in a hurry this morning and it fell into my bag. I left the one you gave me at home and didn’t have time to go back up and get it.”

“But you had time to run after gun shots?” She tapped around on the screen. “All the settings are back to normal. The locations and notifications are back on, too. Did he call you? Look at all the voice mails.”

“I didn’t call him. The last message was days ago. I just texted you and read a couple messages. Don’t give me that look, Amber. I was just curious. I have no desire to call him or see him. I’m starting to get somewhat normal. Last thing I want is to fall back into a bad mind set. I just read a few texts to see what he was saying while I was walking. I swear, that’s all. Don’t worry about the settings. He’s not as smart or as tech savvy as you. He couldn’t grasp the concept of emojis, I doubt he’s gonna try anything you’re thinking of. I honestly just needed a phone for today. When I get home, it’s getting shut off and it’s going away for good.”

“He’s such a scuzzball, trying to still contact you after all that. This would be less stressful if you gave me his address. I’ll kick his ass up and down the coastline for what he did.”

“I don’t doubt that. But I have to listen to the group’s advice and just let it go. And I think it’s time I try to focus on other things. That’s the way I’m gonna start to really get better, right?” You had been saying that for a while now, not really knowing how to move on or if you could. But something had changed. You couldn’t help but think back to the gang member, and how he reminded you of Daniel in those last moments you were together. There was a sense of relief and freedom that you just couldn’t help but relish in. It had almost been a cathartic experience that your body needed, the strength to take back yourself. To give back what you felt, to let all that rage and hate that you held deep inside out. It may not have healed you completely, but it was a start.

The two of you started going over the case load for the day. Even as short staffed as you were, Amber had taken care of most of the early duties: checking on patients, dropping off medicine, and dealing with Mr. Young. You started going through the new files that were stacked on the station while Amber read the report from some of the other floors. It was interesting to see what was happening elsewhere in the ever-busy hospital. There was nothing about your gunshot victim yet, and you crossed your fingers that he was going to be alright. No news was good news, you figured. Amber had started talking about the new U4-1A cases that had been admitted since you were last there. There were four more cases since your last shift. And one of the new cases didn’t make it past 2 days. U4-1A was a highly addictive drug that played off of peoples’ want to feel good and exploited it to deadly consequences.

“I can’t believe how many cases there are now.”

“Tell me about it. It’s the new hot thing on the streets. Everyone wants to find ‘Euphoria’.”

You gave Amber a confused look. “Find ‘Euphoria’? Is that what they call it?”

Amber grabbed a paper and wrote it out. “Yeah, it makes sense when you look at it and read it out. Change the 1 to an I, and it says euphoria. It sounds better when you’re trying to score without drawing attention, I guess. Remember that one guy who was going through withdrawals at the underground club? He kept asking me if I could ‘help him find Euphoria’.”

“Seems way too intense for a club drug. If it’s supposed to be like ecstasy and make you feel really good, why does it make you go through the worst kind of side effects and an even worse withdrawal?”

“The theory the cops believe now is that it was made, primarily, for the sex trade industry. Very little doses make you feel nice and all that. But pure U4-1A does all that and more. It needs to work its way out of the system fast else it causes heart failure and other bad things. Whoever made it added chemicals that affect the brain and senses, so the user loses all inhibitions and is in a constant state of intense arousal. So much so that the user is willing to do anything to find a release with anyone. I heard Mary, the lady who’s been on the most U4-1A cases has had to do a lot of things just shy of actually fucking them. That considered, it makes sense that it would have started in the sex industry; a willing participant is better than one that fights in their eyes.”

It was true that U4-1A, or Euphoria, made people feel euphoric and intensified the pleasure of touch. But from what you had heard from Amber and some of the other nurses, when the patients are under the influence of the powder, they beg anyone to do any kind of sexual act to help them chase the feeling. Whatever sick bastard who created it made it so the user couldn’t find relief on their own, either. Another hospital had thought that if the patients were aroused that it should be enough to let them handle it on their own, since it seemed release was the way to increase the heart rate and move the substance through the system. But the first few patients were in distress for hours until their hearts gave out from the effects of the chemicals in their blood. Doctor Na had been trying to see if any kind of physical activity, outside of sexual, could be the key to rehabilitating the Euphoria addicts. But it hadn’t seemed to be working. With more cases rising, there didn’t seem to be a treatment unless you had only the smallest amount. And survivors from the withdrawal seemed to be just as slim. The patients went through intense fevers, tremors, breathing problems, and pain without the substance. One of Central’s patients didn’t last two days of withdrawals.

“I’m telling you,” Amber went on, drawing you out of your thoughts, “I don’t care who or how many are rocking my world or how long since my last date. No orgasm is worth dying for.”

You let out a small chuckle at her attempt to push away from a not-so-fun topic. You nodded your head in agreement, though you couldn’t really remember the last time you had experienced anything other than a kiss from your ex. You could feel Amber’s eyes on you as you shuffled through the rest of the files.

“So, speaking of orgasms,” she segwayed, leaning over with an eyebrow arched, “since you seem to be ready to start making some changes in your life, when are we gonna get you out for a date night?”

“I didn’t say I was ready for a relationship.”

“Whoa, who said anything about a relationship? I’m just saying have some fun, get a dinner, meet someone and start getting more confident with yourself. I have some friends I could set you up with. All of them are sweet and know I would kill them if they tried anything.”

You hadn’t really thought about dating or anything like that. You had been so focused on healing your mind and getting settled into a new routine that it hadn’t even crossed your mind. You want to tell her ‘No’ but you found yourself considering it. Maybe it would be a good idea to just try to hang out with someone other than Amber. “I don’t know…,” you mused.

That was all Amber needed. “Let’s just imagine. What’s your type? I mean, besides the complete opposite of your ex.”

“I don’t really think I have a type. I know that Daniel was my friend and we were always together, so I think that’s why we started dating. But I don’t think I have one other than being a nice guy.”

“Okay, let’s think about this. How about my friend Bryce?” You made a face, remembering the one time you met Eric when Amber and you went shopping and he spilled his drink all over you. “Okay, maybe not. How about Lee or Michael?”

“They’re nice, I think.”

“Oh, what about Dean from the kitchen staff? He’s so hot!”

“The guy with the guitar and the smooth voice? The one who flirts with everyone and shows off his tattoos? Yeah, he’s definitely hot. Maybe too hot for someone like me. I feel like you two would fit together better.”

“Stop that, you are so cute. I’d date you. I’d even give you a kiss goodnight.” Amber moved in to kiss you on the cheek, only to find her rolling chair being pushed by your foot. “Fine, see if I kiss you ever again. How about Eric from the pediatric ward? I’ve seen you two talk and he’s really easy to be around. Ooh, or Chris? You know, the one with the cute accent and hot body to match? I think you two would be able to reach your own version of euphoria.”

“Ok, I’m done with you. You are ridiculous. I have patients to get to. And, even if I didn’t, I would rather get hit on by Mr. Young than have you start talking about me and some random guy.”

Amber busted out laughing as you grabbed some charts and all but ran from the desk. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep workshopping it. This is just the next project in the ‘make my precious friend feel normal’ plan.”

Despite the way your day had begun, your shift was free of any real excitement. And to be honest, you were happy to have a normal shift. You handed out medicine when it was time, changed the dressing of a girl who had been in a car accident, and took the time to pop in on Mr. Young since he was so upset that you hadn’t been there that morning. You figured listening to the old man’s reveries from his youth was a good punishment for your tardiness. Though, as you sat there, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander to the blond man. You wondered if he was still in the O.R. or if he had been moved. Were his injuries as bad as you thought or worse? You wanted to go see if Doctor Na was out of surgery and if there was any news. Stop it, you scolded yourself, stop focusing so much on that. Just do your job. Stay calm. You pushed yourself to go through the motions of your job, putting your body on autopilot as you tried not to think about him anymore. For the most part, it seemed to work; every time you blinked, you were off to the next task. Even as Amber dragged you away for a quick lunch, you focused extra hard as your friend excitedly recounted her night of online gaming, and her ever continuing feud with Seagull-eye97. Based on the color in Amber’s cheeks as she complained about them snipping her during their last dual, it was a struggle.

By the afternoon, you had enough distractions to not think too much about the blond stranger. Amber had found out that Dr. Na was no longer in the OR, and it seemed like everything was alright. You felt some relief from such small information. While the thought to check up on the stranger popped back into your mind, you decided to stick to your plan to let the universe decide if you were going to meet again.

And the universe had it’s funny way of making that happen.

You were back at the station helping one of the patients get discharged. She was a nice girl who had been in a car accident and was finally being released. You were printing out the doctor’s orders and getting her prescriptions in order when one of the girl’s friends, one you had seen during visiting hours often, came to take her home. As you handed the friend the paperwork, you noticed they had matching tattoos, a Roman numeral II, on different parts of their arms. They called them friendship tattoos and you thought that was cute. Though, you weren’t sure if you would get one with Amber anytime soon. Once the girls were gone, you sat back at the station to finish up your paperwork.

A voice caught your attention and made you look up towards the hallway that led to the elevator. Doctor Henry Na stepped off with a few other nurses, talking quietly and laughing about something you couldn’t hear. You couldn’t help but find yourself smiling at the sight of him. And not just because it further proved that he had finished up the surgery. Henry was someone you had come to be friendly with, like with Amber. He was one of the nicest people you had been introduced to and he made a point to see you on your shift. He was tall and broad, with a smile that was just as kind as his demeanor. He had shared many coffee breaks talking about things, getting your mind from whatever was making it panic, never making you feel like he was just going through the motions. You couldn’t help but feel a certain way whenever he was around, something you couldn’t remember feeling before. A feeling of safety and happiness. Amber’s conversation from earlier seemed to pop into your mind about your type of man. Based on the excited feeling that crept up into you, you couldn’t deny that you liked him. But so did everyone else in the hospital and he probably didn’t see you that way. He had glanced over towards the station and gave you a little wave as he finished his conversation. And that butterfly feeling intensified.

“Why do you look like that?”

Amber had the strangest ability of just appearing out of nowhere at the worst moment. You felt yourself jump and heat rise in your cheeks. You tried to hide yourself in your hands but Amber followed where you had been staring at. And a teasing smirk appeared as she put the pieces together.

“I guess I figured out your type. Look at you going for the most eligible bachelor in this hospital. I like it; skip the boy and go right for the man.”

“You are so embarrassing! We’re friends. He’s just nice to me. I’m sure he wouldn’t want to be with someone with such baggage.”

“I don’t know. You should have seen the way he looked at you when you started blushing.”

You went to shove her away as she started making kissy faces at you, when you noticed Na shaking hands with one of the nurses and starting towards the station. Your body acted on its own in an excited and nervous frenzy, as you reached into your pants pocket and pulled out a small bottle of body spray you had brought with you after changing and ducked down. You sprayed the lily scented water over yourself, trying to rid yourself of the sterile smell of your clothes. You froze when you felt Amber’s smug and judging glance. “What? I like to smell nice and I forgot to spray some this morning after I changed.”

“Sure, honey. Hi, Henry,” she greeted and you sat straight up.

“Hi Amber, Y/N,” he greeted back, his gaze fixed on you. “How are things going up here?”

“Oh you know, same old stuff. Though, I think I left my pen somewhere. I should go find it. You two talk.” And she abandoned you, throwing you a thumbs up and some faces that you had to remember to beat her for.

“Hi, Doctor Na,” you said, “did everything go ok this morning?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that. I heard you ran into the building with an active shooter. That’s something I never thought I’d hear you doing.”

“You and everyone else it would seem. I just wanted to help and let my body run on autopilot.”

“Well, it was tough in there for a bit but, because of you, our John Doe is going to see another day. He’s responding well and I had him moved from post op. He lost a lot of blood and he’s gonna be in some pain for a bit. We have him on some pain medicine that’s going to have him out for a while. But he was responding to the outer stimulus. I think they’re moving him to the room at the end of the hall. Can you just promise me that you won’t worry me like that ever again? I don’t like the thought of someone as sweet as you doing something so dangerous. How are you feeling, honestly? Anxious at all? Anything you want to talk about? I haven’t had any luck identifying that prescription yet, and my friend in the pharmacy hasn’t gotten back to me yet. So, I just want to make sure you’re good.”

He knew your anxiety had been active since you had come to him to try to find exactly what your medicine was. His calming eyes looked down at you with concern. “I’m alright,” you said, trying to control the color in your cheeks as you tried to maintain eye contact, “when I got here, I just jumped into work so I didn’t have time to think about anything else. I’m okay, thank you, Doctor Na.”

“I thought we talked about you calling me Henry, remember? See that’s what I like about you, Y/N. You care so much about everyone else. You really are a good nurse. I just wish you’d do the same for yourself. I suppose I’ll have to make sure you’re really ok. How about we talk about it over dinner this week?”

You’re sure you must have looked like a deer in the headlights. “What?”

“Well, someone who risks their own safety to help others should get some kind of reward, shouldn’t they? Figured why not let me treat you for once. How about it? Maybe we can talk about other things, too. Not work related? Maybe get to know each other better?”

You felt like the whole world had just turned upside down. Was the most handsome doctor who you had been friendly with over the last few months just asking you out? You, out of every other good-looking person in this hospital? Did he actually ask you out? The way he was looking at you, like he was nervous you’d say ‘no’, made it seem that way. He had been extra attentive recently. And Amber was always saying you were kind of oblivious when it came to flirting having not really experienced it. You, suddenly, found yourself too nervous to say anything, and nodded. His smile returned, all wide and excited, which made you shyly smile back.

True to her fashion, Amber came slipping back into the conversation, which you were happy with, fearing you’d burn a hole in the ground with how hot your cheeks were. “Okay, you guys look far too cute over here. Time to get back to work. Did you have a reason for coming to our side of the floor, Henry, or are you just gonna make goo-goo eyes at everyone?”

Henry cleared his throat, trying to hide his slight awkwardness. “I was telling Y/N that we moved that patient to this floor for recovery. He should be in the last room down that hall. And I was hoping she wouldn’t mind taking this to his room?” He placed a clear bag on the station. It had the patient’s personal effects in it. “I figured that since she was with him, he might be more comfortable with someone he recognizes.”

You nodded and took the bag from him. “I’ll keep an eye on him for you.”

“I’d appreciate that. Umm… I’ll get back to my rounds now, before I’m banished by Amber here. I’ll talk to my friend about that prescription and see you later, Y/N.” He turned to leave with a little wave at you and Amber. Before he got too far, he turned over his shoulder. “Nice perfume, by the way, Y/N. It really suits you.”

He made a quick exit as Amber made a funny noise and you were alone with her gaze on you and a smile on your face.

“You two should really get a room. Like the one at your apartment or his. I can just imagine it.”

“You are so awful. He just asked me to get dinner. It may not even be a date. He’s just being nice, I’m sure.”

“Please, he wants to talk about non work related stuff. Plus, I saw the way he was looking at you. He thinks you’re cute. And you are still blushing. Trust me, I know.”

‘We’ll see about that.” You looked at the bag in front of you. It had ‘John Doe’ written on it. There was a wallet, cellphone, a watch, and a few pieces of jewelry. The EMT’s had cut his shirt open to get to his injuries, and you were sure the rest of his clothes were being held for the police, whenever they came to get evidence and statements. You thought it was odd you hadn’t seen any since you left the construction site. You opened the bag and pulled out the wallet, hoping to find some kind of name. The wallet was empty, save for a few dollars and a key card. You reached for his phone. It was dead. You reached into your desk and pulled out a spare cord and power bank. There had to be something on there to figure out who he was or get ahold of someone who did. You plugged it in and put it back in the bag. You pushed off from the desk and made for the room at the end of the hall.

The room was dark when you entered, save for the dim light above the bed and the glow from the heart monitor. You pushed the privacy curtain aside, and were welcomed by the sight of the blond stranger that had occupied the edges of your mind. The bed made him seem so small and his pale skin made him appear so fragile. His eyes were closed, but the steady rise and fall of his chest gave you some relief. His hair was still damp from where the staff had rinsed the blood from his hair. There was a bandage near his hairline. The cuts on his face had been treated and the bruising was much more visible now. There was an oxygen cannula tube strapped across his face and nose. And you could just see the edge of bandages peeking out from under the patient’s uniform they had dressed him in. He looked awful but he was alive, and you were so relieved you thought you might cry.

“So, this is the man you ran into gun fire for?” Amber followed you in with his chart in her hand. “I can understand why.”

“I’m so happy he’s ok. He looked so bad when the ambulance came. I promised him he’d be ok, that I’d get him out.”

Amber patted you on the shoulder, giving you a sympathetic smile. “He’s gonna be fine. Hopefully, he wakes up soon, then you can stop worrying so much. And we can get a real name for him. He doesn’t look like a John. We should give him a nickname. With hair like that, I’d rather call him ‘popstar’.”

“I think his name is Agust. Someone kept saying they were looking for Agust. I assume that’s him.”

“He looks more like an Agust than a John.” Amber took out her pen and started making some changes. “Agust Doe. No, that sounds weird. How about just Agust D? Sounds more like a pop star name doesn’t it?”

You nodded your head; Agust D sounded better than a blank identity. Amber placed his file at the end of the bed, and patted your shoulder. You gave a reassuring smile before she decided to leave the room. And you were alone with the blond stranger, or Agust. You took a couple steps closer to the bed, worried that he might wake up. But he didn’t; he continued to sleep in the drug induced state. In this forced, relaxed form, you couldn’t deny he was more handsome than your initial thought at your first meeting. Leaning forward over his form, your fingers reached out to check the bandage near his hairline, moving some of the stray blond hairs aside. You had no doubt that the others had done an exceptional job, but an odd sense of protectiveness made you look at everything extra close. Must be because of what happened earlier, you had concluded. There was an IV bag hanging above the bed, along with a transfusion bag replacing what he had lost. Absentmindedly, your fingers had slowly moved across his hair and down to his cheek. You were glad that it wasn’t as cold and clammy as it had been.

“See, I told you I was gonna get you out. Now, you need to make sure you get better soon so you tell me everything,” you said with a small smile. The boy in the bed inhaled deeply, before pressing his cheek further into your light touch. The sudden movement startled you. “Agust? Can you hear me?”

But he was still again. And your question was overtaken by the soft beep of the instruments around him.

Suddenly, a shrill ring exploded in the room, making you jump back away from the bed as if you had been shocked. You whirled round trying to find what was causing it. Your eyes caught the flash of light on the end table beside you. It was the cell phone. Had it turned on by itself once it had enough power? Odd as it was, someone was trying to get a hold of him and you knew you should make sure they came to be with him. Maybe they knew what he was doing at the construction site and who had attacked him. You reached into the bag and pulled the phone out. The screen was flashing with a contact name, ‘God of Destruction’, and with a notification that this number had called multiple times, as well as other numbers over the last few hours. You slid your fingers across the screen and brought the phone up to your ear.

Before you could say anything, your ears were bombarded with multiple voices all speaking in a chaotic chorus. One voice, whomever had the phone, spoke loudly over the din. “Hyung! Finally, I was so scared. Where are you? Are you okay? Tell me what the bastard did and I’ll fuck him up so bad.”

Someone else had pulled the phone closer to them. “Hyung, I’m so sorry. We should have never split up..”

Another struggle for the phone and another voice that sounded older than the last rang in over the continuing strings of conversations they were all trying to have. “Yah! Where have you been?! What were you doing, getting a coffee instead of giving us some kind of sign that you were alive?! You prick!”

The first voice must have got the phone back, as his was the most dominant voice again. “Guys, shut up, I can’t hear anything. Hyung, say something. Where are you?”

“Hello,” you responded in a small voice.

The chaotic voices all stopped, and for a moment you were scared the call had dropped. The voice seemed to drop into a serious octave. “Who is this?”

“Umm… my name is Y/N. I’m a nurse at Central Mercy Hospital. We brought the owner of this phone here after he was involved in a shooting.”

“Is he okay?” It was a different voice, sounding genuinely concerned.

“He needed emergency surgery. But we have him stable now. But he’s gonna need someone here. Are you his family or someone who can get here?”

“You said Central Mercy? What level is he on now? Who’s the doctor who saw him?” You gave him what he had asked for. “Alright, listen to me very closely. I’ll be there as fast as I can. Stay calm but do exactly as I say and it’ll be okay. Do not let anyone enter that room but you or this Doctor Na until I get there, do you understand me?”

You felt a little annoyed that he was ordering you around, but there was something in his tone that gave you the sense that this was not a joke and something to take seriously. “And who are you.”

“Call me RM.” Then the line went dead.

#bts fanfic #bts fic #bts imagines #bts mafia au #bts mafia fic #yoongi x reader #bangtan boys #ot7 x reader #min yoongi #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungguk #amber liu #bangtan fanfic #bemylight #elphiej

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today-only-happens-once · 4 years ago

Text

(un)claimed

Title: unclaimed

Summary: Virgil is a demigod. The good news is that he is not alone. A Percy-Jackson!AU fic. Platonic/found-family DRLAMP dynamics.

Word Count: 4217

Warnings: some violence and weapons, Greek mythology, passing mention of curses, feelings of anxiety, some self-doubt and self-deprecation, parent issues (of course, it’s a pjo!AU), no Side is a bad guy but there’s some tension between Remus and Roman, I play a little loose with PJO timeline stuff woops, Janus has done some light antagonizing of the gods.

A/N: Honestly, it should surprise nobody that I wrote this. Heh. Just for fun to release the happy chemical in my brain. Not that deep or involved. Just a light little diddy. <3 Hope you enjoy! Edited by yours truly so all mistakes are mine. No tags because it’s a fandom-specific AU, not because I don’t love y’all. <3

///

“See that tree on the hill?”

Virgil quirks an eyebrow at the boy beside him, taking in his bright orange t-shirt and the three beads on his leather necklace. He has what Virgil would swear was snake scales across the left side of his face. Janus, he had said his name was. (Like the god? Virgil had asked. No relation. Not unless Athena has some explaining to do, the boy had told him with a wry smile as if that was somehow supposed to make sense.)

He’d met Janus four hours ago in New York in Central Park after a very weird encounter with a cyclops. Though if he’s being honest, the cyclops had only been the most recent run-in with vicious creatures out of his mother’s old Greek myth anthology. He’d been ducking and dodging and outrunning them for nearly a year at this point. Janus had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, sliced the cyclops with a dagger and it vanished in a puff of gold dust.

Then Janus told him he knew a safe place to go. Perhaps he was an idiot, but Virgil had followed without much objection. The idea of a place that was safe was nearly too good to be true, but Janus had just dusted a cyclops. And Virgil figured there was at least some power in numbers, if nothing else.

Virgil follows where the other boy is pointing and sees a tall pine tree at the top of the steep hill. He nods.

“Go there. You’ll see a camp in the valley. Chiron will explain.”

“Chiron?”

“Yes. Activities director. You can trust him.”

“You’re not coming too?” Virgil looks at the boy beside him again. Janus is looking in the opposite direction of the tree back the way they’d come and he yanks the dagger out of his belt.

Janus’s mouth twitches. “We’ve got company. I will hold them off. The border is protected. You’ll be safe once you cross the tree line.”

Alarmed, Virgil looks over his shoulder and sees a winged creature in the distance. It looks almost a like a bat, if a bat could be the size of a human person. “What is that?!”

Janus gives a slight shove to Virgil’s shoulder. “Run, Virgil!”

“I can’t leave you behind—”

Janus mutters something that sounds foreign, and yet Virgil understands it. A curse word in… was that ancient Greek? Virgil isn’t given time to process it before Janus grabs Virgil’s arm and takes off at a sprint up the hill. Virgil stumbles but he manages to keep his feet under him as he takes off at a run for the looming pine. As they get closer, Virgil chances a glance over his shoulder. The winged creature is maybe twenty yards away. It’ll be on them any second.

Janus whistles sharply. “Hey! We got incoming!”

Seemingly out of nowhere, three other kids appear from near the tree. One of them notches an arrow in an honest-to-gods bow. He aims, then releases. Virgil watches, stunned, as the blow strikes true and the winged creature vanishes in a puff of gold dust that gets caught in the breeze.

Virgil rests his hands on his knees as he catches his breath. Janus, beside him, is breathing hard as well but he nods to the kid with the bow and arrow.

“Nice shot,” Virgil tells him.

The kid looks to be maybe a year older than Virgil, and is wearing a t-shirt that matches Janus’s. He’s also got a necklace of beads, though his has five of them. Virgil realizes that some of them match Janus’s, plus a few more. He slings the bow across his back and flashes Virgil a bright grin.

“Thanks! I’m Sloane.” He extends his hand.

“Virgil.” He shakes the kid’s hand.

Sloane nods to the other two kids that had materializes near him. One of them is a girl that looks a little younger than Virgil, maybe 14, with dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. The other is a guy in a backwards baseball cap and a plaid shirt over the orange tee that looks about Sloane’s age. His necklace only has one bead on it.

“This is Valerie,” Sloane introduces. “She’s from Cabin 10. And this is Kai. He’s from Cabin 9.”

“Sloane,” Janus interrupts. “Where’s Chiron?”

Sloane jerks his head down the hill. “In the Big House with the lead counselors.”

Virgil watches Janus’s brow furrow. “Seems unusual. Did something happen?”

Valerie sighs. “Kind of. Dionysus gave one of his kids a quest. Counselors are meeting about the prophecy to see who is going.”

Janus’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Which one?”

“Jack. The prophecy mentions a death. That never bodes well, and kids aren’t exactly lining up to work for Mr. D.”

Janus hums thoughtfully, his eyes trailing over the crest of the hill. Virgil watches as he shoves the knife into his belt. Kai cocks his head slightly, studying Virgil closely. Then, he looks at Janus. “Has he been claimed?”

Virgil frowns. “Claimed?”

“No,” Janus tells Kai, then looks to Virgil. “Follow me. I’ll explain as we walk.”

Janus nods to the other three and Virgil follows him down to the valley below. From this vantage point, Virgil sees the cabins Janus has been talking about, forming something like a horseshoe shape. In front of it is a large building that Virgil assumes is the ‘Big House’ that Sloane had mentioned. He sees other buildings and structures, but decides to wait to ask about them.

People mill around, most of them wearing the orange t-shirt that has a winged horse and the words Camp Half-Blood printed on them. When they notice Virgil, most of them throw a curious glance to Janus. Janus doesn’t even seem to notice.

“Welcome to Camp Half-Blood,” Janus says as they walk. “It’s one of the few safe spaces left for demigods like us.”

“Wait,” Virgil says, certain that he heard Janus incorrectly. “Demigod?”

Janus glances at him. “Hm. I gather you really don’t know very much. Yes, demigod. Half-god, half-mortal.”

“And you think I’m one of these, uh, half-bloods?” Virgil shakes his head. “Listen, I think you’ve got the wrong guy.”

Janus looks almost amused now, an eyebrow arching almost like a challenge. “You couldn’t have gotten across the border into camp if you weren’t. Let me guess… you have ADHD and dyslexia.”

“Wh—I mean, yes, but—”

“You were raised by either a single parent or no parent at all,” Janus continues.

“My mom, until—”

“You see things others either don’t see or don’t remember.”

“I—”

“Please. Do stop me if I’m wrong.”

Virgil falls silent, his chest a bit tight. He crosses his arms over his chest as they walk.

Janus waits for a beat before he elaborates, sounding like it’s a spiel he’s given a dozen times already. “The ADHD is the battle reflexes. Dyslexia is because your brain is wired for ancient Greek, not modern English.”

Virgil’s mind is reeling. “But—”

“The things you see are because you’re a demigod. You are able to see things as they are. Mortals—most mortals—get deceived by this thing called the Mist. Someday, with training, you’ll be able to manipulate it as well. It’s a useful skill.”

Virgil feels suddenly way too hot, and yet still has the sudden desire to pull the hood of his hoodie up over his hair. “Demigod,” he repeats, though saying it aloud doesn’t help it make sense. “Are… Are you telling me that my dad is a god? Like a Greek god? Zeus? Apollo? Those guys?”

Janus glances at him and looks, for a split second, almost apologetic. “I understand that it’s a lot to take in at once. This is why Chiron usually takes the initiation. He usually has a more, ah, sensitive means of broaching the subject. But since he’s meeting with the lead counselors, I’m afraid the responsibility falls to me.”

Virgil blinks. He can feel the pressure in his chest building and he forces himself to take a breath. It doesn’t help as much as he’d been hoping it would. “Which one?”

“Hm?”

“Which god is my dad?”

They’re passing in front of the Big House now. There’s two people standing on the front porch—a blonde girl holding a Yankees cap and a boy with a goatee leaning against the railing—seeming deep in conversation. The blonde girl offers Janus a small wave. Janus nods back.

“To your question, the answer is that we don’t know,” he says. “Since you haven’t been claimed yet, your guess is as good as ours. But you might be claimed any minute now, or never claimed at all. I was claimed three days after arriving at camp by Athena. But we have several campers who haven’t been claimed at all. Remy Short is one such example.”

“Athena. Goddess of wisdom and strategy,” Virgil remembers. He’d read that name in his mother’s library when he was younger. And he has a vague memory from sixth grade social studies.

“Indeed,” Janus replies. They circle around the house and Virgil realizes that Janus is leading him towards the semi-circle of cabins. “Since you haven’t been claimed yet, you’re designated to Cabin 11. Hermes’ cabin.”

“Janus!” A bright, cheerful voice calls from behind them. Janus stops and turns, and Virgil follows his gaze. A boy that looks about Virgil’s age, maybe a year older, is running towards them from the Big House. He’s got a flop of curly hair and big round glasses.

“Patton,” Janus greets as the boy slows to a stop near them. “Virgil, this is Patton. He’s the head of the Hermes cabin.”

Patton grins and holds out his hand. “Hi, Virgil. Welcome to Cabin 11. I’ll talk to Chiron about getting you some supplies—”

“I’ll talk to Chiron,” Janus interrupts as Virgil shakes Patton’s hand. “I need to ask him about some things anyway. Patton, could you—”

“For sure,” Patton agrees readily. “I’ll show Virgil around!”

Janus excuses himself and starts towards the Big House. Virgil rubs the back of his neck and offers Patton an awkward smile. Now that he’s closer, Virgil realizes that Patton is maybe an inch or so shorter than him. He’s got four beads on his necklace.

“How ya doing?” Patton asks him, startling him out of his thoughts. Virgil meets his eyes. Patton’s are a warm brown, and his smile is sympathetic. “I remember my first day at camp. It’s always overwhelming.”

Virgil huffs. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“You’ll love it here,” Patton says with a surprising amount of confidence.

Virgil arcs a skeptical eyebrow. “I’ve heard that before. I don’t seem to, ah, stay in one place very long.”

“Kicked out of school?” Patton guesses. He starts walking around the cabins and Virgil follows, slipping his hands into the pocket of his hoodie.

“Yeah. Several times.”

“We all have,” Patton says, not unkindly. “That’s the best thing about camp. In the mortal world, we’re all labeled as weird or outcasts. But at camp? We’ve all been through it. Oh! This is Cabin 10. Aphrodite’s cabin.”

Patton walks Virgil around the semi-circle, explaining each cabin’s assigned deity. He adds that Cabins 1 through 3 are empty, though apparently there was a girl that used to be in Cabin 1—Zeus’s cabin—who joined the Hunters of Artemis and left camp. Cabin 2 was Hera’s, and since she didn’t have children, the cabin was mostly honorary. Cabin 3 usually had a kid in it, but he apparently was on some kind of recon mission and wouldn’t return for another day or two. Cabin 8—Aretmis’s cabin—is also, usually, empty except when the Hunters visit.

“Since you don’t know who your dad is, you get to bunk with us at the Hermes Cabin,” Patton explains. “We take all unclaimed kids, since Hermes is the god of travelers.”

“I thought he was the god of thieves,” Virgil says before he can think about it.

Patton smiles sheepishly. “Yeah, that too. If you’ve got anything important, maybe keep it with ya. Just in case. I try to dissuade stealing, but old habits die hard for some of these kiddos.”

Patton leads him around the camp, pointing out the strawberry fields, the armory, and the forge that mostly gets used by the Hephaestus kids. A few of them wave at Patton, who eagerly waves back and calls a few of them by name. He shows Virgil the arena, where two kids are sparring. Patton takes a seat and Virgil sits beside him, watching the two boys circle each other.

Both of them are wearing matching orange t-shirts—Patton had told him that he’d be getting one too—and some armor. One of them has dark hair and square glasses. He’s got two knives, one in each hand, and even from a bit of distance Virgil can sees the slight sheen of sweat to his forehead. The other one’s hair is a couple of shades lighter. His sleeves are rolled up and he wields a sword and a shield.

“The one with the glasses is Logan,” Patton explains. “He’s a child of Athena. The other one is Roman. He’s a child of Apollo. I met both of them in Seattle before we made our way to camp together thanks to some help from a satyr.”

“All three of you have been claimed?” Virgil asks, watching as Roman charges at Logan who rolls out of the way and then nimbly jumps back up to his feet. He slashes at Roman’s back but Roman parries the blow with a well-timed flick of the sword.

“Not immediately,” Patton says. “Logan was claimed as soon as we got to camp, but it was a month or so for me. And Roman was nearly a year before Apollo claimed him during a campfire song. It certainly surprised a lot of people.”

“Why?”

“His brother was claimed by Ares three months before him, so most people thought Roman was Ares’ kid too.”

Virgil glances at Patton. “Roman has a brother?”

Patton’s mouth presses into a thin line for a moment, and Virgil gets the sense that it’s a touchy subject. “Yeah. Remus. It’s unusual for two kids of the same family to both be demigods, and the fact that their father are two different gods led to some… tension. Roman and Remus don’t exactly get along.”

Virgil nods his understanding and turns his attention back to the sparring pair. Roman blocks a quick slash from Logan with his shield and swipes at him with the sword, but Logan parries the blow with the other knife in his hands. Then in a series of quick movements—Virgil isn’t sure how it happens, exactly—Roman is flat on his back and Logan is on his chest with the knife to his throat.

Roman says something that Virgil can’t make out, and Logan says something in kind before he climbs off Roman and helps him up. Roman flashes a grin and shoves Logan’s shoulder before he glances past his sparring match and sees Patton and Virgil sitting on one of the benches.

Roman waves. “Heya, Padre!”

Logan glances over his shoulder and quirks an eyebrow at Virgil but stores his daggers as Roman jogs over. Patton stands and Virgil follows him down to meet Roman halfway.

“Hey, Roman,” Patton replies. “I didn’t know you started using a sword!”

Roman grabs a towel off a nearby bench and mops the sweat off his forehead. “It’s new. I’m still trying to get used to it. I think the balance is off.”

“The balance is fine,” Logan quips, stepping up beside him. “You just need more practice.”

Roman rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue. “Either way, Specs. I’ll take archery any day over waving a sharp stick around.”

“You are definitely a son of Apollo,” Logan rejoins back without malice. “And it would be unwise to only be versed in ranged attack.”

“And you are definitely a son of Athena.”

“Correct.”

Virgil snorts, and then a part of him regrets it as Roman and Logan both look over at him. Virgil flushes slightly, uncomfortable with the sudden attention, but Patton seems to only perk up more.

“Oh! Sorry, this is Virgil. He’s a new camper. Janus ran into him on his way back and brought him along.”

“Which cabin?” Logan asks.

Virgil shrugs. “For now, Cabin 11, I guess.”

“Unclaimed, then.” Virgil listens for the judgement in Logan’s voice, but he doesn’t hear it. It sounds more like a flat statement of fact, as if reporting the weather. Logan nods once. “Very well.”

“I was just showing him around,” Patton supplies. “You guys wanna join?”

Logan starts shrugging out of the armor he’s wearing. “Regrettably, I said that I would assist Harley with some blueprints when I had finished sparring with Roman.”

Roman slides the sword into the scabbard at his side. “And I’m overdue for a Pegasus lesson. I can’t miss it again. The last thing I need is Mr. D giving me another earful.” Roman gives a quick two-finger salute and rushes out of the arena.

Virgil blinks at Patton. “Pegasus?”

Patton grins brightly. “Come on. I’ll show ya.”

…

Patton spends the rest of the afternoon showing Virgil around the camp. They go to the stables (where Roman offers to take Virgil for a ride but Virgil immediately declines because he’s never been a fan of flying). They swing by the beach on their way to the climbing wall. Virgil watches, amazed, as two kids climb with impressive speed and narrowly avoid the magma that starts to pour down it.

One of the kids has a Morningstar gripped between his teeth, a green bandana around his upper bicep and a matching one around his head. He’s fast, scaling the wall with a well-practiced ease. Virgil hears him laugh delightedly when his hand slips and he almost gets burned by the lava. It’s somehow both impressive and disconcerting.

“That would be Remus.”

“That’s Remus?” Virgil repeats, though when he looks a bit closer he sees the similarity in hair color and skin complexion. “I guess I see the resemblance.”

“Don’t tell Roman that,” Patton says lightly. “C’mon.”

They pass the amphitheater where, apparently, there would be a bonfire tonight. Patton shows him the volleyball court where four kids are playing one another. They wave at Patton as they pass.

“You seem popular,” Virgil supplies. He’s lost track of how many kids have waved at them as they walk around.

Patton lifts a shoulder modestly. “I dunno. Since Hermes is the catch-all cabin, a lot of camp knows me since they come to our cabin if they haven’t been claimed yet. Sometimes we get kids that get claimed right away, or kids that already have been claimed, but otherwise? I get to be their lead counselor for at least a little bit.”

“Sounds like a lot of responsibility.”

“I kind of like it,” Patton admits with a smile. “It’s like I’m everyone’s honorary camp dad.”

The conversation cuts out as dinner is called and they head to the mess hall. Patton explains the offering to the gods prior to the meal, and Virgil scrapes part of his plate into the fire. He doesn’t know what to ask for.

It’d be nice to have a family again, dad, he thinks, unsure of who he should even direct the comment to. Patton waves him over, offering a seat beside him.

Virgil chances a glance around the mess hall as they eat. The Hermes table is certainly the most crowded, though Virgil can’t say he finds that surprising. Athena’s table has several kids reading while eating. Two kids at the Ares table are in the middle of an arm-wrestling competition. One kid at the Hephaestus table is pouring over a blueprint, and Virgil wonders if that was the Harley kid that Logan had mentioned.

Towards the end of the meal, a few kids at the Apollo table starts singing “Bohemian Rhapsody” and it’s not long before most of their table is doing the entire song with harmony. Someone from the Demeter table tells them to ‘save it for the campfire’, but it does nothing to deter the Apollo kids. Virgil catches Roman laughing as he sings, one of his sibling’s arms slung around his shoulders.

Virgil glances over and sees Logan at the Athena table sitting next to Janus, watching the chaos unfold and the faintest quirk of his lips betray his amusement.

Virgil feels some of the tension in his chest relax just a little.

…

The bonfire starts around dusk. Virgil is making his way to the amphitheater from dropping supplies off at the cabin when Roman comes up from behind him and loops his arm through Virgil’s, chattering excitedly about how much he loved this part of camp. Virgil sees an ukulele case slung around his shoulder.

Logan appears a second later on the other side of Virgil, commenting dryly that the Apollo kids had done their vocal warm-ups during the dinner. This only served to lead Roman to do actual vocal warm-ups—trills and scales, specifically—as they walked. Patton and Janus were already sitting down, three rows back. Patton waves when he sees them file in. Remus is sitting beside Janus, seemingly trying to goad him into some kind of competition that he was having no interest in. The firelight glints of Janus’s scales.

“Hey,” Virgil says to Roman and Logan. “Can… I ask what happened to Janus?” He immediately regrets the question, cursing his lack of a filter, but neither of the other boys seem perturbed by the question.

“A curse from Aphrodite,” Logan answers. “Janus had gone on a quest for our mother, and it led to some… unsavory tension between himself and Aphrodite. From what he’s told me, he accused Ares of being a snake in the grass while in the presence of Aphrodite, and… well. The love goddess didn’t take kindly to that. But it’s purely cosmetic.”

Virgil arcs an eyebrow. “Remus seems chill with him.”

“I’m not sure that Remus is aware of the accusation Janus leveled at his father,” Logan muses. “And Janus is not one to hold the children accountable for the actions of their godly parent.”

“It doesn’t benefit him,” Roman adds in, using his free hand for air quotes. “Or something like that. Janus is all about himself and how he can improve his own standing.”

“Sounds like someone else I know,” Logan quips dryly.

Roman scoffs, but when Virgil looks at him, there’s a teasing glint to his eyes. “Well, I wasn’t going to say it, but you guys are half-brothers for a reason.”

Logan looks at Roman over the top of his glasses, but Roman just shoots him a cheeky smile as they approach the other three. Virgil slides into the seat beside Patton, followed by Logan and then Roman. There’s a few kids—Virgil isn’t sure what cabin they’re from—trying to lead a call-and-response chant as campers file in. Down the row, Remus enthusiastically calls out the responses at the top of his lungs.

“Roman!” A new voice calls out from the end of their row. A tall guy, a couple of years older than them, is holding a ukulele and jerking his head down towards the bonfire. “You ready to help me kick this thing off?”

Roman grins and jumps up. “Would be an honor, Thomas.” He rushes off and he and Thomas start playing a song together with practiced ease. He and the other Apollo kids start singing, and before long the vast majority of campers are joining in. A few of them, including Patton, sway a little. Virgil doesn’t sing, but he listens and tries to remember the words.

The sky grows dark. The Apollo kids eventually cede the floor to some Ares kids who start up another chant. More songs are sung, some snacks get passed around, and Virgil is starting to think that maybe, with time, he could get used to this.

“Oh! I almost forgot!” Patton says beside him, as the next song starts. He drops something into Virgil’s lap. “I got this for ya.”

Virgil looks down. It’s two camp t-shirts. The black winged horse and the Camp Half-Blood print stares up at him. He looks over at Patton.

Patton just smiles. “Claimed or not, you’re one of us. We claim you.”

Virgil feels like maybe that’s good enough for him.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides au #platonic drlamp #virgil sanders #percy jackson au #pjo!au #fighting #weapons #violence #found family? in my fics? its more likely than you think #janus sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders

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ssa-babygirl · 4 years ago

Text

Out of My League [Part 3]

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Single mom!Reader

Word count: ~4.5k

Summary: Nothing brings two friends together like a bit of grief with a side of daddy issues. (Mixed POV, includes flashbacks)

Warning(s): As the summary states, angst, grief and daddy issues, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of cancer, a few swear words, i think that’s it??? i use the word “smile” like 138407894 times i’m so sorry i hate noticing my crutch words

Author’s Note: I am SO sorry how long this took I honestly have no excuse, this chapter isn’t even that great but this is only two thirds of what I actually intended this part to be so GUESS WHAT I SPLIT IT UP!!!! the next part shouldn’t take too long (I say that but watch it’s gonna take like another year) and it’s gonna be super fluffy so DON’T Y’ALL WORRY IT’S GONNA BE FLUFF CENTRAL FOR THE NEXT COUPLE OF CHAPTERS

[Previous Part] [Series Masterlist]

WASHINGTON D.C., 2007

(Reader POV)

You had only been to D.C. a few times before to visit your dad, normally under happier circumstances, such as him getting sworn in for another term, but this time was not the case. You got the phone call from your mother the evening before when you quickly packed yours and Jamie’s bags for the flight that left later that night. The few hours you had spent in D.C. already felt like long days. You were physically and emotionally exhausted. Jamie had never been on a plane before and was grappling with the effects of jet lag.

You needed a bit of a pick-me-up yourself, so you ran over to a coffee shop for a bit of a change of scenery. It was about eight o'clock in the morning when you heard your name being called, but not by the barista making your drinks, but by a familiar voice that you had only heard over the phone for a couple of months since his last visit home. You turned around to face the source and locked eyes with Spencer.

“Hey!” You smiled, trying your best to not look like you had just had the longest 24 hours of your life.

“What are you doing here? Why didn’t you say you were gonna be in town?”

“I didn’t know I was gonna be in town until last night!” Spencer could see right through you. He pursed his lips, not asking what was wrong yet, but still opting to check-in and make sure you’re okay.

“How are you feeling? Jet lagged?”

“Some profiler.” Your chuckle came out more annoyed than you would have liked it to.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing, just getting some coffee--”

“No, like, are you okay?” He knew something was wrong, he wasn’t stupid, quite the opposite, by a long shot.

“I’m fine, Spence,” you lied through your teeth.

“Then who isn’t?” Panic and worry flashed across his face, “Is Jamie okay?

“Yes! He’s fine!” You couldn’t help but smile at the relief Spencer displayed that your son was safe and well, his hand coming up to rest over his heart. You hesitated for a second before giving in and telling him why you seemed so off, “My dad’s sick in the hospital.”

“Oh! Do they know what’s wrong with him?”

“Yep. Stage 4 lung cancer.” Your dad had been a smoker for most of your life. He tried to quit after Jamie was born, but the damage had already been done.

Spencer looked genuinely heartbroken as he chewed on the inside of his cheek, trying to think of what to say next “Do you know how much time he has?”

“Couple of weeks if we’re lucky.”

His eyebrow furrowed and his golden eyes softened to an impossible degree, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. This wasn’t sudden, we’ve been expecting it, but when the doctor says eight to twelve months, and you get through month eight, you start hoping it’s gonna be twelve.”

“Are you going back to the hospital now?”

“Yeah-”

“I’ll come with you!”

“Don’t you have work?”

“I don’t have to be there for another hour and,” he checks his watch, which was pulled over the sleeve of his dark gray cardigan, “fifty-six minutes.”

“The hospital’s out of the way and you hate being late.”

“I hate the thought of you going through this alone even more.” You tried to ignore the warm and fuzzy feeling that gave you but ultimately failed. Those big brown eyes refused to stop studying your face, analyzing any signs that you needed him, which to be fair, you did.

“I’m not alone, I got Jamie and my mom.”

“Even more the reason for me to want to go with you.” He finally dropped the solemn frown and took up a bright smile instead. You swore his grin was contagious because, by the time you both got your coffees, you were smiling just as wide.

You drove back to the hospital in comfortable silence. Walking back to your father’s room felt easier with him by your side. Jamie looked up from his drawing as he saw you approach, beaming at you and his favorite federal agent.

“Doctor Spencer!” He came running up to him and hugging his legs.

“Hey, little man!” Spencer ruffled his hair and grinned down at the tiny human squeezing his arms around his thigh.

Your mother looked up from her book, “Doctor? Spencer? Wait. As in…”

“Yeah, mom.”

She stands and wraps him in a hug, “Oh my goodness, sweetheart, you got so big! You’re all grown up! Oh, and you’re cute, too!” She pinched his now pink cheek as his face twisted into a bashful smile, “Right, Y/N? Spencer got cute!”

Now you were blushing a little.

Why am I blushing? I don’t blush over Spencer!

You pursed your lips and looked him up and down. His striped tie was crooked under his cardigan. His long hair was a bit shaggy, as if he rolled out of bed, showered, and decided to go to work. You just laughed nervously as you met Spencer’s eyes. God, those eyes. “Yeah… I’d say so.”

“You definitely grew into your looks. Honey, this is Spencer. Remember the boy that used to tutor Y/N?”

“Oh, nice to finally meet you, son, I’ve heard a lot about you.” Your father shifted in his bed, managing to sit up slightly.

“You too, sir, I just wish it could have been under better circumstances.”

“Don’t give me any of that ‘sir’ crap, I got enough of that working on the Hill,” your father chuckled but his hearty laugh quickly devolved into a coughing fit. Your mother sat back down on the bed next to him and fed him some ice chips to keep him hydrated.

“So, Spencer, Y/N says you work for the FBI now?” She turns her attention away from her husband and forces a smile.

“Yes! I do.”

You took a seat and sipped your coffee, “He was on the team that helped save Jamie, remember?”

“What division are you in?” Your dad asked.

“The Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

“I got some buddies in the bureau, who’s your supervisor?”

“Aaron Hotchner?”

“Oh, I knew him in his prosecutor days. Helluva lawyer, he got some of my clients put away.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be, they were guilty, weren’t they?”

Spencer’s phone rang in his pocket, “Speaking of which, I have to go. Got a case.”

“Go! Don’t be late!”

“Go catch the bad guy, Doctor Spencer!”

“Will do, Jamie.” He ruffled his hair before turning to your parents, “Goodbye, Mr. and Mrs. L/N, it was great seeing you.”

“Bye, sweetheart, don’t be a stranger!”

“I’ll walk you out, return the favor.” You walked quietly with him.

“Listen, I don’t know when I’ll be home from this, but I’ll let you know when I get back, and if you’re still here just give me a call, okay?”

“Of course, Spence. Now go catch the bad guy!” You grinned as you parroted your son’s words. He returned your smile and pulled you into a hug. You could feel tears brimming in your eyes, but you fought it off best you could. Spencer could still sense your pain and hugged you as tight as possible. You were the one to pull away first, patting his back and forcing your pursed lips into a smile. His phone started to ring shortly after.

“Don’t let me keep you.”

(Spencer’s POV)

The case went on for too long. Two whole weeks passed before we were able to come home from Minneapolis. A man was strangling women with short black hair between the ages 30-40 because they reminded him of his mother, it’s standard stuff, it should have been a pretty cut and dry case, but the guy was almost impossible to find, he was completely off the grid. It took Garcia days to just get us a name, let alone contact information. He killed two other women while we were there. One of them was a mother, she had three kids all under the age of 10. Cases like these were always tough, but Gideon had seen enough to talk us all through it. I still wasn’t used to him being gone.

I couldn’t get any sleep on the jet. The nightmares have been coming back with a vengeance since Gideon left. He was like a father to me, my protector, my mentor, and now I have no one.

That’s hyperbolic; I do have the team, and they miss him too, but I’m pretty much alone out on the field. I know I can go to them, but it doesn’t feel right. I don’t like to rely on others because when they leave, I’m by myself.

Which is exactly why I am the only one awake on the jet home.

I suppose I wasn’t totally alone, I could call Y/N, but I wouldn’t wanna bother her if she was with her family. She only has so much time left with her dad. I took my phone out of my pocket anyway and saw a missed call from her last night, I hadn’t seen it before because of the case. If she wanted to talk she probably needed to, right?

I mulled it over in my head, and before I could even come to a decision, my fingers worked on autopilot, dialing the same number I had memorized years ago, and hit call.

Las Vegas, 1994

I picked up the book from the top of the pile she set down on the counter, “You’re reading A Midsummer Night’s Dream?”

“Yeah, for class.”

“If you need any help with that, my mother was a classics professor, I’ve read most of Shakespeare’s works.”

“Really? That’s cool. I’ve read the basics in other classes, Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet, Macbeth, all that, but this one is definitely my favorite so far.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! I don’t know why, but the idea of falling in love with the wrong person just sorta… I dunno… resonates, I guess.”

“Yeah, same here.”

She snorted, “You’re like 12, how would you know about that?”

I bit my lip before explaining, “Reminds me of my parents. They loved each other at one point, obviously, but not enough to stop my dad from leaving us.”

She cringed to herself as if she realized some horrible mistake, “Jeez, I’m sorry, man.”

“It’s okay, you didn’t know.”

“How long ago did he leave?”

“Two years ago.”

“So it’s just been you and your mom?”

“Yeah.”

She stared at the pencil as she twisted it in between her fingers. Her eyes refused to meet mine. “My dad has worked in D.C. pretty much my whole life, and a lot of the time it was just my mom and me. He was always home for Christmas and birthdays, he came to all my recitals as a kid, but he was gone the rest of the year. I see him maybe… fifteen days out of the year?”

She finally looked up, if only for a second. Seeing her eyes, at last, I took note of the sadness behind them, “Which is fine, it’s better than nothing, but I don’t really have a dad the other 350 days of the year, you know? I could call him, but I don’t, it’s always ‘Sorry sweetheart, I’m a bit busy right now.’”

“Yeah, my dad was always too busy too.”

“I know our situations are still really different, and you probably already know this after two years, but it does get easier.”

Present Day

(Reader POV)

You click the button to answer the call, “Spencer?”

“Hey! We’re landing soon, you still in D.C.?” His voice is scratchy like he had just woken up, or like he hadn’t spoken to anyone in a couple of hours.

“Y-yeah! I’m still staying with my mom.”

“How’s your dad?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to, your silence answered his question well enough.

“Oh, shit…” Spencer groaned, “God, Y/N, I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t be, you didn’t know.”

“How long ago?”

“Last week, the funeral was yesterday.” You could hear him grimace over the phone.

“Y/N I am… so sorry I couldn’t be there for you—”

“Don’t be! You had to work, it’s okay, Spencer.”

“I should have called sooner.”

You almost laughed at his tone, “Spencer, you were catching a serial killer, it’s not your responsibility to make sure I’m okay.”

“I know, but—”

“But nothing. I’m fine.”

“How’s Jamie, god, how’s your mother?”

“She’s holding up. I’m helping her out for a while, I don’t want her to be in this house alone.” You decided to leave out the part about you putting a downpayment on an apartment a couple of blocks away from your mother’s house for now.

“How’s Jamie doing?” He asked with perfect timing as Jamie flopped onto the couch behind you.

“Wanna talk to him? He’s right here.”

“Can I? Please?”

“Jamie, baby, wanna talk to Doctor Spencer?” He didn’t even say yes before he leaped up from his seat and grabbed the phone from your hand.

“Hi, Doc!”

“Hey, little man! How’s it going? How are you?” You could still hear his excited voice even though it was nowhere near your ear anymore. It brought a smile to your face as you saw Jamie light up at the sound of your friend on the other side of the call.

“I’m okay. Did you catch the bad guy?”

“Yes, Jamie, we got him. How’s your mom?”

“She’s saying she’s fine, but she’s still really sad.”

“Well, can you put her back on with me?” Jamie hands the phone back to you and runs off to return to his coloring book and crayons.

You sighed before putting the phone back to your ear, “Don’t worry about me, Spence—”

“Come to the BAU.”

He said the words so fast you almost needed him to repeat it, “What?”

“I mean it, I’ll call you when we land, come visit. Bring Jamie and your mom.”

“Won’t you have a ton of work to do when you land?”

“I couldn’t sleep, I did all my paperwork on the jet.”

“Spencer—”

“Please. I need to see you guys.” He was practically begging. It tugged at your heart in a familiar way, but there was a pit in your stomach that you couldn’t place.

“What happened on the case?”

He sighed, “I don’t want to talk about it, okay? Just come in like, an hour.”

You tried to lighten the mood just a little bit, “My mom’s been obsessively baking, want us to bring you your favorite?”

“Did she make her famous oatmeal cookies?” You could almost see his face and the way his brown eyes lit up, even while he was on a plane hours away.

The image brought a soft smile to your face and sparked a tiny bit of light in your heart, “Yep!”

“Y/N L/N, if you bring me some, I will be forever indebted to you.”

“You owe me nothing, Doctor Reid.”

Security waved you through to the elevator, Spencer had cleared you for entry already. One guard hit the button for the sixth floor and sent you up, one hand holding Jamie’s and the other holding a Tupperware of your mom’s cookies. When the doors opened, you saw the entrance to the bullpen, desks filled with paperwork, and busy agents trying to get it all done. As the three of you crept through the hall to the glass doors, your eyes locked onto Spencer, who was sprawled out in his office chair with a thick book, legs propped up on his desk, and glasses balanced on the ridge of his nose.

“Hi! Who are you here to see?” A chipper blonde with purple cat eyeglasses and curly ponytails waved at you from down the hall.

“Spencer Reid?”

“Oh! He mentioned he’d have visitors, you must be Y/N! I’m Penelope.”

“That’s a pretty name!” Jamie beamed up to the woman, who clutched a hand over her heart and returned his smile.

“Oh! Thank you, sweetheart! What’s your name, kiddo?”

“Jamie!”

“Oh you are just precious, he is precious, Y/N, good kid.”

You laughed at the pair’s enthusiasm, “Thank you, can we just go straight in?”

“Yep! Go ahead!”

You walked up to his desk and placed the cookies next to his computer, pulling his attention away from his book. He turned to look up at you, closing the book and throwing it where his feet rested before he jumped up to wrap his arms around you. Jamie hugged his leg and your mother pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Hey, how are you guys doing?”

“Spencer, we’re fine.”

He didn’t say anything, just examined your face for any sign of a lie. The frustration on his face said he didn’t find one.

“Stop profiling me, I’m okay.”

“Mommy, can I have a cookie now?” Jamie eyed the container like a hawk; he shared Spencer’s love of oatmeal cookies, especially from your mom.

“Right! You brought your cookies, thank you so much, Mrs. L/N.”

“You’re not a kid anymore, honey, you can call me by my first name.”

“No, I absolutely cannot,” he laughed.

“Y/N?”

You turned around and saw the woman who hugged you while you cried when you thought your son was gone: JJ.

“Hi! Good to see you again!” You brought her in for a hug while Spencer continued to catch up with Jamie and your mom.

“You too! Jamie got so big!”

“Yeah, he’s starting 3rd grade soon!” You reached around to ruffle Jamie’s hair.

“When does he start?”

“A few weeks! We gotta go back to school shopping!”

“Ooh, that’s exciting! So you’re heading home soon?”

“Um…” You glanced at Spencer and your mom, who was pestering him about whether or not he had a girlfriend, “Actually, I just thought it would be best for us to stay close to my mom. Jamie likes it here, so we’re actually going to be moving here before school starts.”

“A new school! Are you excited, Jamie?”

“Yeah!”

Spencer, still a blushing mess thanks to your mother’s nosiness, sputtered out “Uh… Excited for what?”

“To move to D.C.!” You raised your hands in a little “Surprise!” motion.

“W-what?” He couldn’t stop himself from looking delighted even if he tried.

“We’re moving here to stay close to my mom.”

“She’s been such a good help,” she gestured to the cookies, half gone over the course of the conversation, “I’m not really ready to give her up just yet.”

“Spence, you should show her around!” JJ’s face had an unreadable look, but I guess that’s what profilers are for “Take her sightseeing. Jamie, have you been to the Washington Monument yet?”

“Nope! Doctor Spencer, can you take us?”

“Sure, little man, you want your mom and grandma to come with?”

“Yes!”

Spencer grinned at him, ruffling his curls before smiling at you. His eyes were scrunched into thin lines from his cheeks, but there was still something behind them. Something you couldn’t quite read. His smile softened slightly and you finally got a clear view of his hazel eyes. His lips parted like he was about to say something, but Jamie cut him off again.

“Ooh! Ooh! Can we go to the Smithsonian?”

“Oh, honey, you’re gonna wish you didn’t say that,” JJ joked.

“The kid knows everything, you’ll be there for hours,” a deep voice said behind you.

“Morgan!” You smiled and stretched your arms out to hug him.

“Good to see you again, Y/N.”

When you turned back to Spencer, his warm grin was gone, replaced by a glare directed at Morgan. Had something happened with them? Last you heard they were best friends. Maybe that’s what happened on the case? Maybe that’s why he was so upset on the phone? Whatever it was had to be bad because he barely spoke for the rest of the visit.

A few weeks later, after you were all moved into your new apartment and Jamie was settled into his new school, you called Spencer. He owed you a trip to the Washington Monument. On your little day trip, there was no such thing as silence. Even in the quiet museum, Spencer’s voice filled the air, spewing facts about the monument, the memorial, the exhibits, and everything in between. Jamie loved to learn, so he hung onto every word that he heard.

“Plans for the monument’s development actually started in 1783, before Washington was even elected president. D.C. wasn’t even the capital of the country yet. Washington was actually against the monument because he didn’t want to use public funds for it, but after his death, Congress wanted to build him a mausoleum--”

You didn’t mind the rants. You still loved to listen to him ramble. Even if you didn’t understand what he was talking about sometimes, the sound of his voice was just soothing, especially after the stress of moving across the country.

Jamie got tired after walking around all day after the tour of the National Museum of Natural History and the Washington Monument, so your mom offered to take him home. You planted a kiss to his forehead and ruffled his hair, hugging your mom goodbye as Spencer high fived him and waved as they went off in the direction of home.

“You know, you didn’t have to stay with me. If you wanna go home too, you can.”

“No. I wanna stay with you.”

A small smile crept across his lips, blush rising to his cheeks. He bit his lips and looked down at his feet as he started walking off to the next stop on his little tour.

“Where to now, Doc?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Come on, tell me, tell me!”

“No, ‘cuz then it’s not a surprise!”

“I’m aware of the definition of surprise, you don’t need to have an eidetic memory to know that.” You would just have to rely on your less refined profiling skills to figure out where you were going. You were on foot, so it couldn’t be too far.

“Why aren’t we taking a cab?”

“Because I wanna walk with you.”

Just hail a cab, it takes way less time than--

Oh.

You walked side by side for the remainder of the distance. He did most of the talking, telling you stories about the team. You took notice of the softness in his voice when he talked about Morgan. He wasn’t bitter anymore.

“--And then Garcia answered the phone.”

“Oh, god, what’d she say?”

“‘Talk dirty to me.’”

“No!”

“Yep!”

“She said that to your boss.”

“Morgan was mortified, you should have seen his face.”

You looked at him while he grinned at the memory. It was the most at peace you’d seen him in… well, a while.

“So… you guys are cool now?”

The peace was replaced with confusion, “What do you mean?”

Your pace faltered, but you kept walking, “Didn’t you guys…? Weren’t you fighting?”

“No? Why would you think that?”

You pursed your lips and furrowed your brows, “No reason.”

Why else would he have been mad at Morgan when I went to visit? You thought, There’s no other reason! Unless…

Oh--

“We’re here!” Spencer stopped in his tracks, looking up at a large white structure with tall windows and stone carvings decorating the walls. You turned and saw the sign out front that read: “Folger Shakespeare Library.”

“Spencer…” You gaped at the sign, a small, awe-filled smile tugging at your lips.

“I remembered how much you loved Shakespeare in school, I thought you’d get a kick out of this.”

“Spencer, this is… This is wonderful!”

“Good surprise?”

“Great surprise!”

You grabbed him by the arm and tugged him up the front steps as he digs through his pockets for his wallet. Once inside, he bought two tickets for the next show: Midsummer Night’s Dream. Your favorite. It didn’t start for another half hour, so he led you to the reading room.

The room was beautiful, to put it lightly. Three ornate chandeliers hung from the ceiling. The furniture and accents were all done in a dark wood, shelves packed tightly with books. The setting sun shone through the breathtaking stained glass windows. An unlit fireplace rested against the wall. Spencer led you up to the second level, a balcony wrapping around the border of the room.

“Thank you for today,” you beamed, “I haven’t seen Jamie that happy since…”

“I know the feeling. I haven’t felt this okay since…” His gaze dropped to his feet, trying to swallow the words that came out too soon.

“Since what?”

“Since uh...” He glanced back up to your face, “Since Gideon left the team.”

Spencer never told you he left. Agent Gideon kept tabs on Jamie after his rescue. For the last three years, he got a card in the mail on Christmas and his birthday. He always checked in and asked how he was doing. When you went to visit Spencer at the BAU a few weeks ago, you wanted to say hi to Agent Gideon and thank him for his consideration, but you hadn’t seen him. You thought he was just taking a personal day, he worked too hard anyways from what Spencer told you.

“Spence, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think you’d care.”

The words were like a spark that shocked your heart awake from a lovely sleep, and now it was upset to be so rudely awoken, “Of course I care! What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t wanna know the reason you’ve been so… off.”

“What do you mean ‘off?’”

“You don’t have to be a profiler to see you haven’t been yourself in… when did Gideon leave?”

He played with a loose thread on the sleeve of his sweater and looked back down at his feet, the toe of his converse nudging at the emerald green carpet, “Couple of months ago.”

“You could have told me.”

“You’ve had your own stuff going on. It’s not that bad.”

“You don’t have to convince yourself that you aren’t having a hard time just because I am. You don’t always have to be the hero.”

“Neither do you, you know.”

“I really am fine.”

“Y/N, he was your dad, you’re allowed to be upset.”

“I am, okay?” You snapped, “I miss him like hell! He was always just one phone call away and now…” One hand carded through your hair as you inhaled deeply, placing your other hand on the banister beside you to steady yourself.

“I’m not going to pretend that our situations are the same because they aren’t, but I’ll tell you the same thing you told me when we were kids.” He placed his hand close to yours on the banister, your fingers almost touching. Almost. “It gets easier, not seeing him every day. But just ‘cuz he wasn’t around doesn’t mean you can’t feel bad.”

You force a smile, “Thanks, Spence.”

“Of course.” He wrapped his arms around you and held you tight. The hug wasn’t particularly emotional. Neither one of you felt like you were about to cry, it just felt nice to be in each other's embrace.

“Show’s starting soon.” He muttered into your ear before pulling away, walking off towards the theater with you following close behind.

Taglist~~~

Lmk if you wanna be added! Some names didn’t work so if you don’t see your name as a tag just dm me a url and I’ll try to fix it

@lawnmoa @ellvswriting @baby-pogue @rottenearly @confused-and-really-hungry @thatsonezesty13 @deni-gonzalez @irjuejjsaa @randomfandomshitposts @bisoner @moonstarrnghtsky @smurfflynn @eldahae @t0xicllama @undeniablyyou @staplernpaper @theweirdobella @sammypotato67 @k-k0129 @helloniallslovelies

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #mgg #mgg x reader #mgg smut #mgg fanfiction #mgg imagine #Matthew Gray Gubler #matthew gray gubler fanfiction #matthew gray gubler imagine #matthew gray gubler smut #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #CM #cm fan fiction #cm imagine

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avengerscompound · 4 years ago

Text

It’s You and Me - Chapter 5

It’s You and Me: A Hawkeye Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Clint Barton x F!Reader

Word Count: 2575

Rating: E

Warnings: Action, mentions of sex and death

Synopsis: You and Clint Barton go way back. Since you joined the circus as a child, he took it upon himself to keep you away from the people who really wanted to hurt you. For years the two of you danced a line between dark and light.

When he chooses light the two of you go your separate ways.

Fifteen years later he tracks you down. Those feelings the two of you shared never went away, but now he is not only an Avengers but a single father. Can the two of you make it work after all this time when your lives have gone in such different directions?

A series told in flashbacks and current day.

Chapter 5: Now

You blinked over at the three children that were sitting watching morning cartoons. All had dark hair, light eyes, and pale complexions, with a smattering of freckles over their cheeks. They all definitely looked related but none particularly resembled the blond 6’4 archer who was claiming to be their father. The oldest was a boy around thirteen years old that sat on the recliner with his legs crossed playing a game on a tablet. The girl was the middle child and only a couple of years younger than her brother. She sat on the couch with a glass of orange juice, her eyes fixed on the episode of Adventure Time currently playing. The youngest which you assumed was the one Clint had called Nate, was sitting in front of the coffee table with a plastic cup of milk. He was much younger than the other two by a lot. You figured he couldn’t be older than five but was more likely three or four.

As you took it all in, the shock didn’t seem to abate at all. You looked at Clint with your brow furrowed. “Why didn’t you tell me you had kids?” You whispered.

“I didn’t think you’d be here when you woke up,” Clint said, sliding the dinosaur pancakes onto a colorful melamine plate. You watched on as he added more batter to the griddle and then syrup to the pancakes and attempted to get your head around what was going on. He took the pancakes and put them in front of the little boy before coming back to you and taking your hand, leading you back into the stairwell and up a few steps. You noticed the girl notice you. She watched as her father led you up the stairs and then turned back to the TV.

“What… what… what the hell, Clint?” You said when you were safely out of earshot.

“Okay,” Clint said, putting his hands up like he was surrendering. “We haven’t seen each other for years. Years and years. I had a life. That’s all. And I didn’t tell you yesterday because you seemed so flighty. I figured what was the point. You’d run off in the night and we’d go back to being exactly where we were before yesterday happened.”

“But you blew up my before yesterday life,” you argued.

“I know,” he said, and relaxed his hands, gingerly taking one of yours. “I know, okay? I’m sorry. Can we start fresh?”

You let out a breath and nodded.

“Hey,” he said. “Remember me? It’s Clint. I met you at the circus when you were still a kid. Shit, I was still a kid too. I taught you how to use a sword and ride a horse.”

You smiled a little. “Yeah, I remember.”

“What have you been up to?” Clint asked. “Me? I joined the government organization, SHIELD. I was a spy and assassin. I bet you didn’t expect that. But I have to admit, I wasn’t great at either. Then I was an Avenger. You’ve heard of those guys? They’re like Superheroes? It’s kind of a big deal. Anyway… what else? Oh right. I got married. She was a single mom. I ended up adopting her kids, and then later we had one together.”

“Where is she?” You asked the sudden concern that you might have helped Clint cheat on his wife hitting you.

Clint frowned. “She died,” he said. “Car accident on the way home from the store. A drunk driver slammed into her at a T intersection.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. You let him have time to work out what he wanted to do with the emotions he had attached to the memory and when he opened his eyes again, he looked a little sadder than he had before. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I kinda assumed you’d bail on me. But I am totally here for you sticking around too. I wanted you to come with me back… before. That never changed. So if you wanna try - whatever. Or the kids are a deal-breaker. Whatever. Just… I’m here. Okay?”

You nodded. “Okay.”

“I know you never liked kids…”

“I liked kids,” you interrupted. “I just never wanted them.”

“Right, well,” he said. “You want to meet mine?”

“Sure,” you said with a small nod, closing your hand around his.

Clint led you back downstairs and flipped the pancakes on the griddle as he passed it. “Hey kids, I want you to meet my friend. She’s going to be staying here for a bit,” he gave them your name and then began to indicate to each kid. “That’s Cooper over there. Then Lila. And the little guy is Nate.”

“Hi,” you said, aiming for cheery. “It’s nice to meet you.”

They all echoed their hellos not particularly giving you too much attention, the way most kids did when you interrupted them doing something they enjoyed. Clint’s dog ran to the door and began wagging his tail and a second later the door opened.

“Oh and this is Ebony,” Clint said. “The nanny. She lives here too.”

Ebony had a flustered look about her as she sidestepped Lucky with a large basket of laundry. “Here’s the clothes. I really gotta go. I’m meeting people in Hell’s Kitchen.”

“Thank you. I mean it, thank you. You’re a lifesaver,” Clint said, taking the laundry basket off her and thrusting it into your arms. “I owe you one.”

“You owe me at least fifty,” Ebony said. “Do not call me unless it’s the end of the world.”

“Right, of course. Have fun,” Clint said as she grabbed her purse.

“See you, trouble makers,” she called as she hurried back out the door.

Clint returned to the pancakes and served up another batch before adding more batter again. “Your clothes are in there,” he said, indicating to the basket. “She agreed to do an emergency load of laundry for you because she said it would be a crime to force you out of the house in old Mrs. Wheeler’s clothes. And don’t worry, she knows how to launder armor, she takes care of mine.”

You laughed. “I like her already.”

“Go up and change and I’ll have breakfast waiting for you when you get back down,” he said.

When you came back downstairs, Clint was plating up the last of the pancakes as well as bacon, eggs, and fresh fruit. It was a little startling to you given the last time you’d seen him he lived on coffee and cold pizza.

Clint smiled at you and when you approached, he put his hand on your arm and drew you in a little closer. Just before his lips touched yours he looked into your eyes. “Is this okay?”

You swallowed and nodded, not exactly sure if it would be, but wanting it nonetheless. Clint brought his lips to yours. This kiss was brief, but passionate, like you were doing something forbidden and clandestine, even though there was nothing about the two of you together that should feel like that at all. When he pulled back, he tapped your ass and grabbed his plate. “Come on,” he said.

You grabbed your breakfast and followed Clint to the couch and sat down on the only available recliner. “Alright kids,” Clint said, as Lucky came and put his head in his lap, in the hopes Clint might give him bacon. “We have a little bit to get done today and you’re with me. We’re gonna take the subway into the city. I need to drop something off at work. I might see if Auntie Nat can hang out with you for a bit. You all okay with that?”

They all agreed and then he turned to you. “We can go over to your place after that if you want. Grab some of your stuff.”

“You gonna go armed?” You asked.

“Naturally,” Clint said, dropping a wink at you.

“Then after all that, we can do something fun. You wanna go to Central Park while we’re in the city? We can go to the zoo or on the carousel.”

“Can we stay late and see a musical?” Cooper asked.

Clint raised an eyebrow at him. “Of all the things I expected to come out of one of my kids’ mouths, that was not one of them,” he said. “What do you guys think? I guess we can see Aladdin.”

“Matilda,” Nate said, excitedly.

“Oh yeah? You want to see a play about someone like your Auntie Wanda?” Clint joked.

They all talked plans over breakfast and you sat quietly feeling a little out of place. It was clear that Clint loved his kids a lot, but even more clear was that he wanted to give them the happy, healthy, childhood that he’d been denied. There was never a suggestion that was thrown out without discussion. Nothing was a bad idea. It also explained the effort that he’d put into breakfast.

There were signs of the Clint you knew when you left though. The dishes were just dumped into the sink and rather than putting the weapons he planned on bringing in a case, he just shoved them into a duffle bag.

The dog came along on the trip and for a while, you wondered how he was going to get him on the subway. But when you got there he was put awkwardly into a backpack that Clint had been carrying and Clint wore the golden retriever on the train.

The kids and the dog were dropped off with the person you only knew as Black Widow from news reports. Thankfully your criminal activity was fairly low key and more of the civil disobedience kind, so the Avengers ignored you. But you knew people who had had run-ins with her, and it never turned out well for them.

Then Clint had taken you up to see Captain America and Tony Stark. They’d obviously been alerted to his presence and the reason for him being there because both were dressed fairly casually (the Captain in a light blue t-shirt that clung to his skin and a brown leather jacket while Stark had a t-shirt with a science pun on it over dress pants), but they were both waiting for him.

“Got it,” Clint said, pulling the microdrive out of his pocket. Stark snatched it and patted Clint on the cheek.

“Not just a pretty face after all,” he said, going over to one of the consols and plugging it in.

“And who is this?” Steve asked, nodding to you.

“This is my friend,” Clint said. “We knew each other at the circus. She helped with this, but I got her burned. You think she can … you know…? Join up?”

“Just going to start recruiting people, Link from the past?” Tony teased, without looking up from the computer.

“What can you do?” the Captain asked, ignoring Stark and looking you over.

“Whoah,” you said holding up your hands. “Who said I even wanted to be part of your elite group of do-gooders?”

“I like her,” Tony said. “She’s got my vote.”

The Captain rolled his eyes but that was the most he acknowledged either you or Stark.

“She’s good, Cap,” Clint said. “She can fight, and she’s agile as hell. Can get from one side of the room to the other without touching the ground when it’s just a room with a few other people. She can even balance on the blade of a sword.”

Steve looked at you, impressed. “Well,” he said. “If you ever change your mind, you’re welcome to try out. If you can keep up with Clint and Nat, you’re in.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you snarked.

“Alright,” Clint said, shaking his head. “Enjoy your intel. We have a couple of other things to do today.”

The Captain looked at the duffle bag Clint was carrying. “Do you need any help?”

“We’ve got it,” Clint answered. “It’ll probably be nothing.”

Clint couldn’t have been more wrong. When you got to the rundown building you lived in, the security doors were both broken wide open but when you got to your floor, the door was still closed.

“Ready?” Clint asked as you looked over the door for any signs of tampering.

You nodded. “Wonder what their plan is?” You said. “You think they’re inside?”

He nodded. “Either that or watching us through that apartment and they want to block our escape route.”

“Should we go through the window?” You asked.

“Nah,” he said. “Might as well take them head-on.”

You shrugged and pushed open the door. Jasper meowed at you impatiently and hissed in the direction of the neighbor’s door. He was the only life to be found in your place and you sighed. They were planning to ambush you.

“Lock the door and push the table up against it,” you said. Clint nodded and you went and started shoving things into bags. It was hard to decide what you wanted to keep and what you didn’t when you were under pressure to decide. You tried to balance things that you needed now, with things that had some kind of sentimental value. Thankfully, the circus had meant you’d gotten good at packing light and didn’t have a lot of things that you had a strong sentimental attachment to because it was only a couple of minutes before they were banging on the door.

“Might want to hurry, sugar,” Clint said, as someone fired at the locks. He nocked an arrow and pointed at the door.

“I’m hurrying,” you said, and grabbed a jacket and put it on. “Jasper, come here buddy,” you said, picking up your cat and zipping up your jacket around him. He wasn’t exactly happy to be in there, but thankfully despite your kevlar not being strong enough to keep out snake fangs, it handled cat claws fine.

The door shoved forward a little and Clint loosed an arrow, pinning someone's hand to the doorframe. Whoever it was screamed. One of Zelda’s snakes slithered through the gap as whoever it was that was pinned to the door tried to muscle it open.

“Time to go,” Clint said, rushing to your side and wrapping his arm around your waist. You let him hustle you to the window and he shot a grappling arrow at the building across from yours. “That open window, there,” Clint said, pointing. “You got this?”

“Please, look who you’re talking to,” you said.

The two of you hoisted yourself through the window and jumped as the door was shoved open. Clint let you go as you arced over the gap between the buildings and you launched yourself off Clint’s thighs, stretching out, whilst holding your bags close to your body, so you dived headfirst through the window over the road, tucking yourself into a ball and rolling as you hit the ground. The old lady who lived there started screaming. Clint, came through the window feet first just after you, forward rolling to break the impact. “Sorry, ma’am!” He announced as he rolled straight to his feet and grabbed your arm, running to the door. “Avengers business!”

You started laughing as the two of you ran through the door and out into the hall. “Oh my god, Clint!” You shouted. “I missed this!”

Clint grinned at you as he jumped over the staircase railings. “Me too, babe.”

// NEXT

#clint barton #clint barton x reader #hawkeye #hawkeye fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #it's you and me

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sweeethinny · 3 years ago

Note

sirius/hestia: sirius being romantic and love's fool

hello anon thank you so much i love writing about them

I took a while, but then I thought a lot about this scene, and I loved how this fanfic turned out, so I hope you like it.

*It's 1995, just before Jily and Harry need to go to Grimmauld Place

They had fought over something stupid, honestly, Hestia knew it was something too silly for the two of them to take so seriously.

But of course it hadn't been stupid at the time, and the two of them took fights very seriously, so when they had to go to that stupid Aurors dinner, they weren't trying very hard to show that they didn't want to be there and that they had had a fight a few minutes ago.

Hestia couldn't even remember who started the fight, but she was irritated with work and Sirius kept being pessimistic about this stupid dinner, listing everything that could go wrong, and she freaked out because she didn't need to think about someone being rude with them, because she had already spent eight hours listening to people being rude to her, and being mean to her because they thought they knew better. She needed to have some faith that for at least two hours she was going to be able to smile and have fun, even the slightest bit.

She had gone into hiding in the bathroom when one of the Aurors came to talk to Sirius, she didn't have the patience to deal with Mr. Santiago, however well intentioned he was, Hestia didn't want anyone asking her if she was getting pregnant in the next few years, or she would wait to get older.

Sirius would handle it better than she did, she knew that. Santiago was his boss after all.

Sitting on the toilet, she sighed, glad to finally be silent.

She wanted to quit, wanted to tell Sirius that it had been a mistake that they had moved from their quiet, cozy house to a more central apartment, wanted to call her dad and yell at him for being a jerk last week when he saw her and Sirius at the market and ignored him, she wanted to tell Lily that it wasn't fair that she was so far away and she wasn't allowed to see her best friend because a lunatic nearly killed her son even though she knew it wasn't her or Potter's or Harry's fault.

Hestia buried her face in her hands, wanting to disappear.

When the bathroom door opened she was ready for her cabin door to open too, it was probably Sirius wanting to see if she was alright, and Hestia felt ready to be able to lie and say yes, even if he wouldn't believe it.

He knew her too well.

But instead, she heard female voices, cheerful and full of life, probably not expecting anyone else there; ''He's beautiful.''

''Yes, so, so beautiful.'' The other sighed passionately, which made Hestia chuckle softly, remembering when it was she, Lily and Marlene doing that, running to the bathroom of the muggle ice cream shop that was on the corner of her house, only to daydream about Elliot, the boy who works there. Older, charming, helpful, and very polite.

Hestia still remembered how they all screamed and jumped when Marlene kissed him.

"I'd give anything to kiss him," Girl A said, and the noise of things being placed on the marble sink made her believe they were both touching up their makeup or something. She had done so much with Lily and Marlene to forget what it felt like to just worry about looking pretty.

There was no war, people dying, hidden friends, nothing, it was just them putting on lipstick and making sure they were all perfect to try and get someone to kiss in some dark corner of Hogwarts by the end of the night.

Hestia remembered when Sirius saw her doing this. The two of them on James's seventeenth birthday, after making out warmly in his bedroom, Sirius showed her the bathroom and watched her touch up her makeup. It was so silly and natural when she thought about it, because he still does it, he still watches Hestia like it's for the first time.

''You know what I wanted? Kiss every tattoo of his.” Girl B said, and Hestia almost laughed when she heard her sigh loudly, imagining she was fanning herself. "So sexy."

‘’He's usually already a hottie, but when does he show off his tattoos? Urg, I feel like I'm going to die.” Girl A moaned irritably. "I hate that he's married."

Uh, married men, she had been through that with girls too, not that Hestia liked Johann, but she couldn't help saying he was hot. Lily was the one who thought he was most beautiful, she melted when he got close to her. It was funny, she should send her a letter talking about it.

''These days I saw him training, they were the best ten minutes of my life. '' Hestia chuckled softly, thinking of the times she had gone to the gym only to see Sirius sweating and exercising, every now and then he would lift his shirt to dry his face and make her feel on the clouds. It was her weakness.

"Lucky his wife who sees him naked every day."

"He bought her flowers yesterday, I think it was their birthday." Woman B said.

"He always buys it, or flowers, or something she likes to eat." They were silent, probably breaking up. "I heard one of the Aurors who works with him flirted with him."

‘’Yes, Felicity. She asked if he didn't want to go along with her to the convention in France… I mean, I understand, he's a hot guy, but he's married, hold your pants woman!’’

''Do you know what he said?'' Girl A looked curious, and Hestia was too, because Sirius was going to this convention in France and he didn't say anything to her about it, and he usually told her about Auror gossip.

‘’No, but she didn't look happy when she left his office. But Juan told me that Ester told him that he told her not to let her into his office anymore, and that he looked kind of furious. Not that Felicity was happy, of course, I think she expected him to agree to go out with her.”

“Ah, he would never do that, he's clearly in love with his wife.” Girl A laughed. ''Once, during one of our trainings, he told me that when they were at Hogwarts, he only started paying attention in Muggle Studies classes because of her, and that his favorite class was DADA because they sat near one of the another.'' Hestia frowned, thinking that this could only be a bizarre coincidence.

"Yes, I've seen them talking, and seriously, I hope that one day someone will look at me the way Mr. Black looks at her." They sighed, and Hestia became more attentive to their conversation. ''He has a picture of the two of them in his drawer, I once went there to get a paper for a meeting he asked for and I saw it, they are in a mountain of snow, and she is without her glove showing her ring.'' Sirius still kept this photo? It had been so long now, they were twenty-two and he had asked her to marry him.

“So cute.” The noise of makeup being put away resounded through the silent bathroom, and Hestia fingered the ring that had a lovely diamond set in it. Their names were still delicately engraved on the inside of the ring.

‘’Do you think that's why Felicity won't travel to the convention? Because did she flirt with him?” B asked.

''Probably. Not that I think he would cheat on her or anything, but he probably wants to avoid drama at all costs, you know how he hates it.” Sirius hates drama? Hestia didn't really agree with this, but probably because at work he was much more serious and reserved than at home, because she still remembered him saying that he would die after getting a fever and vomiting from eating bad food.

"Yes." The two continued talking, but now the voices faded as they exited the bathroom, soon leaving her alone in the bathroom again.

Hestia knew Sirius was a hot guy, she remembered how she had almost drooled every time she was admiring him in the common room, sitting sprawled on the couch as if he didn't realize that the more he tried not to draw attention, the more people looked at him, his chin resting on his hand as he watched Peter and Remus play chess.

He was handsome even when he didn't want to be.

Like the first time they slept together, and when she woke up she saw him sleeping. With his face scrunched up and his hair pinned up, so fluffy and helpless it was hard for her to decide to wake him up - but she was getting really hungry and she couldn't remember where her clothes were.

But she didn't know anyone was flirting with him. With her man.

And she didn't want to think like that, because she was an idiot, but it was the thing that was going through her head at that moment. Imagining some woman, much prettier than she, flirting with Sirius. Touching his hair, his face, his tattoos.

Hestia loved kissing his tattoos, all of them, and she liked to remember that he had made one just for her. But it disturbed her peace to think of someone else doing it.

And why hadn't he told her about Felicity? Hestia had met her once before, a nice and kind woman with short black hair and a body to envy.

"Hey, where were you, I was-" Hestia wouldn't let him finish, she'd come out of the bathroom on a mission and their stupid fight wasn't going to get in the way. Ignoring his coworkers and what Mr. Santiago was saying, she cupped Sirius' face as she had been doing since she was seventeen and ran away from home at night on winter break to meet him, and kissed him.

Hestia still felt those butterflies in her stomach when she did that, like she felt when he kissed her near the Potters' house in the rain, or when he took her for a walk in Muggle London, even though none of them knew where to go. She still remembered how she had jumped for joy in Lily's room, telling her and Marlene how he had made her jump over a gate so they could enter an old amusement park, the two of them going to sit on the old Ferris wheel, sharing an ice cream he had bought.

"Wow, okay." Sirius blinked as she pulled away, her hands still on his face. ''Hm, this is good... Where have you been?’’ He placed his hands on her hips, pulling her farther forward as she smiled. "Is this your way of calling for a truce in the fight?"

"Fuck the fight." She stared at him, feeling her chest burn. “Coming with me to get a drink?” She looked away quickly, just to check that the other guys had left them alone. It looked like Santiago had managed to drag everyone over to the cold cuts table, which was a good thing, because she didn't want his co-work to think Hestia was dragging her husband aside to have mad sex with him.

As much as they had already done it.

And as much as she was a little mad at this talk of someone flirting with him, Hestia wasn't making a big scene in public. Never.

"Of course." Sirius still looked a little stunned, but he followed her wherever she pulled. Hestia could see that there were indeed some people giving Sirius a second check, only to look at her afterwards as if wondering what he had seen in her.

She didn't take away their reason, she had already asked that same question to him a few times during her crises.

"You know you don't have to lie to me, don't you?" She asked as they reached the farthest part of the room, no one seemed to notice the two of them there.

"I know… Did something happen?" Sirius put his hands back on her hips, a smirk on his face. '’I thought getting a drink was code for getting laid, or for going home to get laid until we lost our wits, but I think I got it wrong?'’

“Don't be an idiot, I'm on my period.” She rolled her eyes when she heard him chuckle.

"And I don't care." He shrugged. "So what's this about me not lying?"

"Felicity flirted with you?" To his credit, Sirius looked confused for a few seconds before letting out a oh. ''Is that a yes?''

"Doll, don't mind that, it was the most shameful thing I've ever been through, and there's no need for you to worry." He grimaced at the memory. ‘’I didn't tell you before because it doesn't matter, I didn't even remember it. Who told you?''

"I heard it in the bathroom… It seems like there are a lot of people who think you're hot," Hestia said, trying not to be affected by the closeness Sirius was putting between them, his mischievous smile growing.

‘’Jealous babe? I thought we were past that stage.” His smug smile was the worst, his gray eyes gleaming as if he were a beast and Hestia his next prey. "I don't really care what other people think, you know that."

"I know," Sirius kissed her, gentle and calm as he did whenever he was teasing her. "And I'm not jealous, I was just curious why you kept it from me… Afraid I'd do something, Black?"

"Nah, I can handle you and calm your beast."

“Don't be cocky.” She lifted her chin to let him kiss her neck, smiling at the feel of his lips there.

"I didn't tell you because it was Valentine's Day and I wasn't going to spoil our dinner for something as dumb as that." He looked at her, hands firm on her hips. ‘’It's idiot, you know I only have eyes for you. But if you must know, I hated every second from the time she walked into my office, until she left."

"She's not that good then?" Hestia bit her lip as he kissed the sensitive flesh near her collarbone.

"She's not you, Hestia." Sirius raised his head, as if it were the most obvious thing.

“Urg, you're so cheesy.” It wasn't a real complaint, but she liked the way he smiled when she said it. "It gave me a toothache." They chuckled, Sirius returning his hands to her hips, creating a space between them. Hestia knew what he was going to ask even before he opened his mouth.

''What happened today? You don't just look like this.” Hestia grimaced, not wanting to talk about it now that they were all right again, but she knew if she didn't, he would make her talk sooner or later. It turned out that the two of them always needed a little push to talk about their feelings, and the other almost never liked the silence that came between them when that happened.

"It was a shitty day at work, and… I don't want to work there anymore." She accepted his embrace, laying her head on top of his heart, feeling Sirius kiss the top of her head. "I miss Lily, I don't like living in that apartment and…the drama with my dad last week?" She looked up at him, wanting not to cry but not able to keep the tears from stinging in her eyes. ‘’I thought it was over, it's been almost twenty years, why does he continue with it? I'm so tired… And today listening to those girls in the bathroom, I don't know, I know you won't cheat on me, that's not it, but… what are you still doing here?’’

''Like this? I'm here because I love you, where else would I go?’’

"To the arms of a prettier woman with a less troubled family?" She ventured, dropping her face back into his chest because she felt ashamed for saying that, and for feeling that. She didn't like to look him in the eye when one of her crises started, Hestia was always silly afraid that she would see in Sirius that disgusted and slightly annoyed expression she had seen in her father's eyes when that happened.

“I don't think there's a woman prettier than you, and about your family, it's not like mine is a bed of roses, is it?” He hugged her tighter, like he did when she was sad. Hestia knew Sirius would never look at her with that accusatory look that she was going crazy. "You know what I thought when Felicity walked into my office and started telling me about how Paris was a romantic city and all?"

''What?''

"That we never went there, which is ridiculous because it should have been the first place for us to go together." He chuckled softly. ‘’Paris is indeed a very romantic city.’’

"Yes, you're right." She sniffled, tears stinging in her eyes again.

‘’I don't care if someone is flirting with me, or I don't know if there are women talking about me in the bathroom. Sure, it's really good for my ego, you know,” Hestia chuckled, rolling her eyes. "But none of them are you, and I'm not saying this because I want to convince you to have shower sex later, because you know we're going to-"

''Disgusting.''

‘’-You love it. But it's because I love you Jones, and for you I can put up with your father pretending I don't exist for hours if it'll make you happy, and, I can find a way to get you inside Lily's house without Dumbledore knowing and staying talking to us about everything we already know. She needs you too, James told me she's feeling pretty lonely... And I don't like that apartment either, and Joe is looking to sell his house, so we can go visit if you want.'' Sirius was quiet, his chin resting on top of her head, his arms holding her securely in his embrace.

"I hate feeling like this," Hestia grumbled.

''If it's any comfort to you, last week I thought I'd cut my hair because you told me about that guy from your job.'' He admitted, and when Hestia lifted her face to look at him, Sirius' cheeks were flushed. "Don't look at me like that, it's been a tense week."

"Noooo, you're perfect like that." She brought her hands up to his hair, smiling at the familiar feel of his silky strands. "It's the only reason I married you, so if you don't want to deal with the divorce bureaucracy, don't cut it."

Sirius chuckled, looking pleased to have gotten her out of that cloud of self-deprecation. He was very good at it. ‘’Don't worry, I don't want to deal with these papers anytime soon.. Hope never actually...want to go home?’’

“Are you going to get that massage you promised me two weeks ago?” His gray eyes sparkled, his cheeks still a little flushed and a beautiful smile on his lips. Hestia remembered the girls talking about how he looked at her, and she didn't blame them for wanting that either.

‘’Of course, and then we can enjoy the shower-’’

"No way." They laughed, Sirius sighing in defeat.

"I'll still convince you and you'll regret not listening to me sooner." They intertwined their fingers, Sirius pulling her towards the exit, nodding casually to his coworkers, a little hastily.

'I'll let you try, but I promise nothing…'

#sirius x hestia #my babies #sirius black #everyone lives #marauders #padfoot #hestia jones #my fic

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xjoonchildx · 5 years ago

Text

airplane, pt. 2 | jjk x reader chapter three: koreatown

pairing: jungkook/reader

word count: 3.4K rating: 18+

genre: smut | silly smut | nonsensical smut

warnings: criminal!jungkook, koreanamerican!jungkook, reality has left the chat, plausibility has left the chat

A/N: so...as i’m turning this PWP into a P “with” P i actually had to add some plot lol. i really hope you guys like the direction this story is taking and i’m starting to feel a bit more confident about how it’s going to end. but please let me know what you think, hearing from you guys makes my day. i’d love to know if you think the plot is making any sense. i mean, as much sense as a story about jungkook as a super hot criminal robber on the run with a federal agent lover could possibly make, ya know?

xoxo

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

artwork by the shmexy @ppersonna who’s smut is even better than her art

***********************

A postcard comes in the mail seven weeks after San Juan.

Colorful block letters urge you to VISIT BELIZE over decorative shots of the country’s beautiful beaches and most visited spots.

The only thing that appears to be written on the card is your address. You examine it dozens of times, looking from front to back for any other marking. You come up empty.

There is one unusual thing you notice, though.

The postmark.

Clearly written at the top: Los Angeles 90005.

There’s no way this card was mailed out of Belize and there’s very little chance Jungkook managed to get back inside the country without setting off a thousand alerts on your phone.

You assume he must have routed it through his parents.

You’ve tried so damned hard these past few weeks not to think about what happened in Puerto Rico. You’ve tried to forget the full-body shock you experienced when he asked you to play along with his absurd fantasy. You tell yourself there’s no way he could possibly believe that you would go on the run with him.

But then you remember the look on his face.

Seeing this postcard -- holding it in your hands -- makes San Juan real again. It’s not some bizarre fever dream you had or some figment of your imagination. The emotions it dredges up are uncomfortable to confront.

Is he in trouble? Is he asking for help? What are you supposed to do with this?

Logically, you know there’s nothing you can do.

So you slip the card into your bedside drawer and file the information away in that part of your brain that seems to now be dedicated to thinking about Jungkook Jeon full-time.

************************

Over the next few weeks, two more cards arrive.

Guatemala.

Honduras.

That fake passport Jungkook apparently managed to get his hands on seems to be getting a workout.

Each time a new card comes in the mail -- always postmarked out of LA, the knot in your stomach seems to loosen. He’s still going. He’s not locked away somewhere.

Not yet, anyway.

You try to remind yourself that he’s smart -- really, really smart. He has a knack for staying under the radar. His Spanish is probably pretty decent at this point. He’s making or finding enough money to stay on the move.

Maybe he’s got a plan. Maybe he’s figured something out.

But it’s hard to keep the anxiety at bay. You watch your phone like a hawk, waiting to see an email or text saying he’s been caught. You spend every day waiting for the other shoe to drop.

So the cards go into your drawer -- and you get up and get dressed and go into the office every day like you’re not secretly rooting for the criminal so many of your colleagues are looking for.

*************************

The other shoe finally drops when you bump into Agent Novak in the cafeteria one afternoon.

Novak is one of those guys who looks like he’s straight out of central casting on a crime show. He has the appearance of a boxy, overgrown boy. Always dressed in a muted grey suit, always sporting a military-grade short haircut. The only thing that stands out on his completely non-descript face is his big mouth.

And right now you should be very glad for his big, fat mouth.

“You hear about your boy Jeon?” he asks, while piling his plate high with mac and cheese. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end for a moment at the mere mention of Jungkook’s name.

You move down the buffet line next to Novak slowly, the sudden adrenaline rush making your limbs feel weak and loose.

“Jeon?” you ask with feigned nonchalance. “Courthouse Houdini?”

“That’s the one,” Novak says, dropping two huge pieces of fried chicken onto his plate. “My buddy in the Marshals says they’re pretty close to bringing that asshole in,” he continues, adding some crinkle fries into the mix for good measure.

God, you hope he doesn’t have a heart attack before you get all the information you need.

He needs a trough, not a plate.

“Well, it’s about time,” you reply carefully and you hope it sounds convincing. “Where?”

“Central America,” he says, reaching down to his plate to start picking off the crinkle fries one-by-one. “Guatemala or some shit.”

A chill runs up your spine when you think about those postcards in your drawer.

They’re close.

They could be there right now.

He could be in handcuffs again right now.

“Hope they have better luck than I did keeping him nailed down,” you say, willing your voice and face to stay even.

“Oh trust me,” he says, talking around a mouthful of crinkle fry. “They’re going to teach that motherfucker a lesson when they get their hands on him. He won’t be able to walk, much less run.”

You swallow against the bile rising in your throat.

“That’s what he gets, right?”

Novak nods, grabbing for a chicken finger. You cringe when he shoves it into his mouth. Tiny pieces of the breading stick to his lips and you fight the urge to gag.

God, has he always been such a pig?

“Damn straight.”

****************************

You circle the block three times before you feel comfortable enough to park.

The neighborhood is quiet and clean and solidly middle-class. The house you are looking for is neat and well-kept, lawn trimmed and flower beds nicely maintained. It looks like a nice place to live.

You cut the ignition and take a deep breath.

You have to remind yourself that Jungkook is not Al fucking Capone and there’s no reason for the government to have around-the-clock surveillance on his family home. You have to maintain a level head even under this insane set of circumstances.

You try not to think about how furious he would probably be if he knew you were here right now.

Maybe someday he’ll understand why you’re doing this.

Maybe someday you’ll understand why you’re doing this.

You’d worked late at the office, preferring to make this move when the sun went down. You’re glad for the cover of darkness when you step out of your car and knock on the front door at the Jeon family home.

“Can I help you?”

You take a deep breath when Mr. Jeon opens the front door. He has the same kind, handsome face as Jungkook, only his is weathered with age and worry.

“Mr. Jeon, I need to speak with you about your son.”

His eyes widen for a moment. He seems to pull back and assess the way you’re dressed, figures out you’re one of those government-types.

“I’ve already said everything I have to say on the matter,” he says shortly, moving to shut the door.

“Wait, please,” you say urgently. “I’m trying to help him, I swear. I can explain if you let me in.”

He stops for a moment, levels you with a critical look.

“I think he’s in trouble,” you say quietly.

Mr. Jeon sighs heavily before opening the door wide and letting you in.

“I’m sorry to turn up at your home like this,” you say, moving immediately across the living room to close the blinds on all the street-facing windows. “But I’m not sure how much time I have.”

He watches in total silence but you can see he’s unnerved.

“I’m just...being cautious,” you explain, and he nods.

Once you’re satisfied no one can see inside, you start to calm down a bit. Mr. Jeon offers you a seat on the living room couch.

“This is a very strange situation, I know,” you admit.

He remains mute and still, waiting for you to cough up some kind of explanation.

“Do you know who I am?” you ask.

“No.”

His response is clipped and severe and you really can’t blame him.

“Okay,” you say, blowing out a breath. “Yes, I am with the FBI. But I --” you pause for a moment, grasping for a way to explain this bizarre situation. “ -- I know Jungkook. Personally.”

Intimately. Biblically, as they say.

“Okay,” he says cautiously.

“I need you to get in touch with him because I think he’s going to be arrested. Soon.”

Mr. Jeon rubs a hand across the back of his neck.

“I don’t know where he is. And I can’t get in touch with him,” he admits. “He doesn’t want us to know where he is because then you people will have something to hold over us.”

You wince at the venom in that statement.

A faint voice from another room calls out.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Mr. Jeon says.

He leaves you alone on the couch in the family room.

You wipe your sweaty palms on your dress pants as you take a look around. The decor is soft and welcoming, with a few nods to Korea in the artwork on the walls. It looks like a nice place to grow up, you think. The thought helps calm you.

He reappears after a minute.

“I’m sorry about that,” he says apologetically. “I would really prefer my wife not know about this. This situation has already caused her a lot of pain.”

“Of course -- I understand,” you say quietly. “So you have no way to contact him?”

“No. Not directly.”

“Then I need to know how you contact him indirectly. He’s been sending me postcards somehow. Do you know who could be sending me postcards from him?”

His face falls a bit.

“I shouldn’t say. I’m not trying to get anyone else in trouble.”

You lean forward a bit, fix him with a look that you hope conveys just how sincere you are about trying to help.

“I don’t want anyone else to get in trouble, either. But if you don’t give me that name, I promise you Jungkook will be. Please.”

Mr. Jeon sighs.

*****************************

You pull the brim of your baseball cap low over your eyes and adjust your sunglasses before walking into Min’s Market.

The small, family-owned store is in one of Koreatown’s most populated neighborhoods. You keep your head low as you dodge people on the sidewalk to make your way inside. An electronic chime sounds when you walk in.

The only thing you see in your quick glance around the store is a young man behind the register. He stands when you make eye contact and you take that as the go-ahead to approach.

He’s not a large guy by any means, but he definitely gives off a do not fuck with me vibe. You straighten your spine and get right to the point.

“Are you Yoongi?”

“Nope.”

He’s lying, of course. His eyes are narrowed at you beneath long black fringe bangs and you can’t blame his skepticism given the giant sunglasses and the hat and the workout clothes you’re hiding under. You look like you’re trying way too hard not to be noticed.

“I need to talk to you about Jungkook,” you say anyway.

“Never heard of him.”

Okay, not entirely unexpected. You’d come prepared for the possibility that he wouldn’t want to play ball.

You reach into your bag and pull out the postcards, drop them on the counter in front of him.

“You’ve been sending me these,” you say firmly. “And we need to talk.”

******************************

Yoongi takes you to the tiny office tucked into the back of Min’s Market. The space is cluttered with invoices and notes written in Hangul. There’s a monitor display where he can watch the surveillance cameras at the front of the store.

He motions for you to take a seat on the one small chair he has and opts to lean against the office desk, arms crossed.

“So you’re Carver Street, huh?”

You take your sunglasses off so you can look him in the eye.

“Yeah.”

“And you’re… a Fed.”

He delivers that line with a cynical twist to his mouth that makes you feel self-conscious.

“Yeah.”

“Shit’s wild,” he says, more to himself than to you.

“Yeah, wild,” you exhale nervously. “Look, I’m sure you don’t want to be involved here any more than you already are, so I’ll just come out with it,” you say. “I need to get in touch with Jungkook.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes.

“Look, I don’t know you, okay? Maybe he does, but I don’t. And I’m not trying to be an asshole here, but I’m not going to give you that information.”

You rub at the corners of your temples with your fingers.

“You know he’s been reaching out to me. You know he trusts me.”

Yoongi snickers.

“We haven’t exactly had the chance to catch up over beers since this whole mess started. The only thing I know for sure is that he wants you to get those postcards,” he says.

“Okay, okay, you’re right,” you concede. “I’m pretty sure he’s in Honduras right now. And I need you to reach him as fast as you can. Because they are closing in on him and I don’t know how long he’s got.”

Yoongi shoves a hand through his hair.

“Okay. I’ll tell him.”

“How fast can you reach him?”

“Look, I said I’ll tell him, okay?”

You tell yourself to relax before you scare Yoongi off entirely. It looks like his patience with you is already worn thin.

“Okay. Please tell him to try to get to Nicaragua,” you say, careful to keep the agitation from creeping back into your voice. “They have a history of denying extradition requests to the U.S. It could buy us some time to figure out what to do.”

“Us?”

Yoongi quirks an eyebrow at you, the corners of his mouth lifting in a barely-concealed look of astonishment. You feel the blush that spreads across your face all the way to the tips of your ears.

“Him,” you correct yourself awkwardly, “it could buy him some time to figure out what to do.”

He grabs a pen and scribbles on a sheet of paper on the desk.

“Nicaragua, okay. Got it.”

“And please -- if you can -- get him this,” you say, handing Yoongi your own slip of paper with a number written on it. “It’s a burner. In case he needs to get in touch.”

Yoongi takes the number from you and nods.

“Alright.”

You stand to leave, knowing you’ve taken as much of his time as you’re allowed.

“One more thing and I promise you’ll never hear from me again,” you say, pointing to the monitor inside the office.

“Delete that,” you say. “Please.”

*************************************

You dig around in your cabinet until you find the wine glass you’re looking for -- the huge one -- and then you reach into the fridge for what’s left of your Sauvignon Blanc and dump it into that glass.

Nothing to do now but hope he gets the message in time.

Nothing to do now but watch your work phone and see if he’s been arrested.

Nothing to do now but watch your burner phone to see if he’s contacted you.

It’s time to admit your nerves are shot. Weeks of heightened anxiety are taking its toll and the past two days have felt like a marathon.

You run a bath -- make sure the water is close to painfully hot before you sink into the tub. Your body feels exhausted but your mind is still racing like you’ve shotgunned a cup of coffee.

You lean your head back against the ledge of the bath and take a long drink of the wine.

What if he makes it to Nicaragua? What does that even mean? You buy a few more weeks of the same on-the-run bullshit and for what?

What is the end game here? And for that matter why on earth are you doing any of this?

You barely know this man. And now it’s starting to feel like you barely know yourself.

Your fingers and toes are pruny and the water is lukewarm at best when you finally crawl out of the tub. You down the rest of your wine, throw a soft t-shirt on and fall into the bed.

All night you toss and turn and when you finally wake it’s like you never slept at all.

****************************

It’s a few days before you see Novak again.

You happen to overhear his obnoxiously loud laugh just outside your office and your entire body jolts to attention.

You jump up from your desk and peer outside.

Novak is busy chatting up a woman who works a few spaces down, no doubt boring her with unwanted banter about his weekend. He happens to look up and you motion for him to come over.

“Hey, yeah, I’ll be right there,” he says, and you head back to your desk on leaden legs.

Maybe he knows something, maybe he doesn’t.

You’ve got to figure out how to walk the line between interested in the search for Jungkook but not too interested. Thankfully, Novak doesn’t strike you as the type to pick up on the subtleties of most interactions. If he was, he’d stop bugging that woman right away.

He knocks loudly on your open door when he finally makes his way over.

“Hey,” he grins widely. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” you smile back, feeling a cold panic spread across your chest. Maybe you’re not ready to hear what he has to say.

“I was wondering if your buddies ever caught up to Jeon.”

“Man listen,” Novak says, helping himself to a chair. “You are not going to believe this shit.”

Your fingernails grip your legs underneath the desk, dig painfully into the skin just above your knees through the thin fabric of your pants.

“Did he...get away, again?” you ask, desperate to keep a note of hope out of your voice.

“Yup,” Novak confirms. “Piece of shit cleared out by the time the Marshals they sent down there managed to get to where he was. Some place in Honduras or something.”

Novak shakes his head.

“My buddies are sick of looking for his ass at this point. At some point they’ve got to call it off, right?”

You can barely register a thing he’s saying because oh my god he made it out.

“Wow,” you manage, trying to appear appropriately sympathetic and outraged. “That’s unbelievable.”

“Yeah so,” Novak says, “back to the drawing board on that one, I guess.”

You’re forced to sit through a few more minutes of his blabber and small talk but all you can think about is Jungkook making it out in time. All you can think about is getting back to your house and to that burner phone.

When Novak finally stands to leave, you nearly sigh out loud with relief.

“Hey, good luck to your buddies, yeah? That’s got to be pretty frustrating,” you say, walking him out the door.

“Yeah, I’ll pass the message along,” he says. “I’m sure you’re just as ready as they are to see this guy get what he deserves.”

You smile weakly.

“Oh, definitely.”

***************************

You make a beeline for the ladies room and walk right into a stall.

Once inside, you drop the seat lid and sit on top, desperate for just one moment to be alone with your thoughts.

He made it out. He’s not in custody. Maybe there’s a way to fix this entire mess.

Then you fall apart.

You’ve reached the limit of what you can handle without some kind of emotional release. The panic and the anxiety and the relief and the hope come together and boil over inside you.

The tears start coming and they don’t stop.

You have to flush the toilet three times to cover the sound of your sobs.

***************************

You race home from the office and practically dive for the burner phone in your nightstand. The entire drive back, you’ve told yourself not to expect a message.

It’s entirely possible he doesn’t want to contact you.

It’s entirely possible that he doesn’t have anything to say to you after the way you left things in San Juan. You tell yourself to be ready to see absolutely nothing when you check the burner.

But when you do unlock the phone, you find a waiting text. You steel yourself for what he has to say.

nicaragua is boring [ 3:15 PM ]

send nudes [ 3:15 PM ]

You laugh.

You laugh for so hard and so long your tears gather in the corner of your eyes. You laugh until your sides start to hurt from the absolute absurdity.

It’s so him that you have to laugh.

That night, when you fall into bed you sleep an inky black sleep, without dreams or interruptions.

It’s the best rest you’ve gotten in weeks.

************************

#jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #bangtanarmynet #bts fanfic #btssmut #bts fic

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housamo-side-blog-2 · 3 years ago

Text

HARUMO EXPOSED.

This is a story about Harumo..

{SPLASH OF WATER}

Harumo:...bloo...bloooo..blo...blah.......*gasp for air*.

You gasp for air, as you have just made a jump from 10 feet,

Shiro: Harumo, you just jump from 10 feet,are you okay?

Harumo: Yeah,im okay.

Shiro; Thank goodness,you landed with perfect form, if not, then you would have just felt the most painful slap in history.

Kengo: Is it really that painful, i bet i could take it on.

Shiro: Coming from you loudmouth,

Kengo: Its true, I’ve felt way more painful punches that those pathetic slaps,right partner?

Harumo: Ahh, yeah, i guess?

{Lil Salomon appears}

Lil Salomon: Hello Master!,...Whoah!, you”re in the sea, care to explain you’re wherabouts?

Harumo: Wanna take a dip?

Lil Salomon: I’ll pass, i was checking in on you.

Harumo: Well thats a surprise...

Lil Salomon: You see, I have a very personal project that i want to complete, so i was just checking, if you’re in need of me,

Harumo: I think we’re good for now.

Lil Salomon: Oh good, well then, see you later then!

Harumo: Hey wait Sal-..

Your question goes unanswered, to brush your curiosity, you float on your back, and met the piercing gaze of the sun, with its brightness, you close your eyes and just float,.....

COMPLETELY UNAWARE OF SOMETHING IS OFF.!

????: HARUMO WAKE UP !

Harumo: ....What is it you Guuuuuuuuuuuuuyyyyyysssssss!

Shiro:*BLUSHING* AGYO AND KIJIMUNA DON’T LOOK FOR THE LOVE OF YOG-SOTHOTH!

Agyo and Kijimuna: HEY, WHAT GIVES?!

Kengo: HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAH!

Ryota: *BLUSHING LIKE A TOMATO*

Moritaka:*BLUSHING* Harumo?

Shino:.*BLUSHING*..THA--UGH--.. FILIAL ONE! HOW DARE YOU LOOK !

Moritaka: PLEASE FORGIVE ME!

Toji: *blushing* Uhhhmmmmm.....

Harumo:*BLUSHING*AHHHHHHHH!!! WHERE ......ARE .....MY TRUUUUUNNNNNNNKKKKKSSSSS?!

{CAW,,,CAW,,,}

{END SCENE}

*Yesterday*

{SUMMONERS SAFEHOUSE}

The safehouse is the the place where guildmates attend to conduct their guild activities, strategy meetings and also.

EVERYONE: AIR CONDITIONING!

Thats right, today is an usual very hot for Tokyo today, and according to the broadcast its only going to get more and more hot tomorrow, And due to the intense heat, classes today are suspended as most school don’t have air conditioning,luckily,

EVERYONE: THANK YOU SHIRO!

Shiro: All right, i understand all your feelings but, hold out on the touching.

Ryota and Harumo: YOU’RE THE BEST SHIRO!

Shiro: O,,Well,, Thank you Harumo. im glad you say that.

Kengo: So much for holding out on the touching.

Shiro: What was that?!

Toji: Purchasing an AC is a wise choice Shiro Motoori, if not, we’re probably boiled eggs already.

Agyo and Moritaka: AHHHHHHHHHH!! SO COOOOOLLLL!

The two fluffy fured Canis therians sit infront of the the lifesaving air conditioner in a proper sitting position.

Shiro: Its a good thing, i bought it,just incase if their is a heat wave, Agyo and Moritaka would be alright.

Ryota: Oh yeah, Canis Therians are probably the most affected in this heat wave, i hope they are okay.

Agyo: This is much more better that waving fans around in the Land of Wa,

Moritaka: Yes, When there is a hot day, we would just sit under a tree.

Moritaka: Though i have to say, its not the least effective during this intenese heat.

Harumo: .....Wait a sec...i get the feeling somethings off.

Shiro: Really?!, what is it?

Harumo: Hmmmmmmmmm......

{Hexagram flashes}

Lil Salomon: Hello Master, cooling down i see.

Harumo: Hey Lil Salomon,

Ryota: Hello, Lil Salomon, how are you doing?!

Lil Salomon: Hello to you too, Ryota, im doing fine, thank you for asking.

Harumo: He said Hello to you too Ryota and he’s doing fine.

Ryota: Yay!

Kengo: Hey, whats with the yay Ryota?

Ryota: Lil Salomon showed up.

Kengo: You mean that invisible guy.....Hey Salomon guy,

Toji: Who are you all taiking to?

Moritaka: Everyone, what seems to the commotion.

Agyo: And who are you all taiking to?

Harumo: Oh yeah, i haven’t introduced you to everyone yet.

Lil Salomon: Well, it seems i to make an entrance.

The floating gray fured butler,fixes his tie and dust off his butler his uniform to prepare his long awaited introduction to the rest of the Summoners.

Harumo: Lil Salomon, everyone can’t see you.

Lil Salomon:....AHHHHHH!, i EVEN DUST OFF MY SUIT,

Again, only the one wearing Salomon”s ring can see the small butler that accompanies you everyday.

Toji: So... who are we going to meet again?

Harumo: Everyone, i would like to introduce Lil Salomon here.

Moritaka, Toji and Agyo: .........

Harumo: He’s the first friend that i met ever since i arrived in Shinjuku Central Park, and he’s my butler.

You put your hand under Lil Salomon, to help them see where he is,even though they can’t see his form,

Lil Salomon: Its a pleasure to meet you Toji, Agyo and Moritaka, Thank you for protecting my Master in times of trouble.

Harumo:{ Relays what Lil Salomon said}

Agyo: You mean?.....HE IS A GHOST?!

Moritaka: Agyo, i think thats not it, maybe Harumo is the only that can see him.

Moritaka: That amazing!, to think you have a butler on your own.

Lil Salomon: Thank you Moritaka, i have to keep my master safe, even though he always go to trouble.

Toji: Huh, that explains some questions.

Lil Salomon: Oh.. Master, i should inform you about Kijimuna, you promised to take him to the safehouse to meet everybody.

Harumo:............I TOTALLY FORGOT!

EVERYBODY: AHHH!.

Shiro and Kengo: Harumo, whats wrong?!

Harumo: I totally forgot about Kijimuna, {Remembers about Kijimuna}

EVERYBODY: KIJI...MUNA?

Harumo: He’s my friend that i met during the time i was stranded on a deserted island.

Everybody:...Eh?

Harumo:......

Everybody: WHHHHHHAAAAAATTTTTTTT?!

Shiro: You were stranded?!

Ryota: Deserted island?

Everybody: ALONE?!

The news comes a shock to them, to know that they’re friend,the one that saved them, was stranded on a island in the middle of nowhere, everybody is still processing your crazy trip, but what would they think if you told them about your other out of this world adventures.

Shiro: When..did this happened?

Toji: How did you get out of there?

Ryota: More importantly, how did you get there.

Harumo: Guys, calm down...{If i told them about the rest, they surely will go crazy}...uhm...anyway i better go pick up Kijimuna.He’s with Mr Triton, so it shouldn’t be far.

Shiro: We are going to have a taik with you later.

Harumo: Uh...O-okay Shiro.. See you all later.

Shiro: This explains a lot of questions.

Kengo: What do you mean.

Shiro: Do you not notice Harumo suddenly disappearing all of a sudden? like that time with the treasure hunt in Nakano.

Toji: I forgot to tell about that time, Shiro Motoori.

Ryota: What do you mean?

Toji: Remember the day we were discussing about the treasure hunt that was famous in Nagoya.

Shiro: I thought they were only rumors.

Toji: Yeah well, We have an exam that time, and i heard Harumo mumbling about something.

Ryota: What did they say.?

{FLASHBACK}

Harumo: Something about a treasure ship.....

Toji: Hmmmm.

Harumo: Didn’t we go sailing that time.... .. I wonder how everyone is doing?

[END FLASHBACK}

Toji: Then after school, They went to Nakano. i don’t the rest of the details after that. but it sounds like they have some other accquaintances,

Shiro: I see... hmmm.... when Harumo first arrived. we have been making a lot of friends with other people lately.

Ryota: Yeah, They are the reason how i met Maria and led us to Daikanyama Academy.

Kengo: Yeah, same goes for me. and also Claude is way over heels for them.

Kengo: Back in the war,

Shiro; War?

Kengo: It was like a war that time, The three main guilds of Tokyo, for the first time fought side by side, i was shocked to see the Tycoons lending a hand.

Shiro: And the reason for their unity, was Harumo..

Ryota: Yeah.. we all saw them. Harumo never backs down whenever he sees someone hurt.

Kengo: You got that right, during our first fight back in the Coloseum, They never gave up and..{Remembers what they said}... They said im their friend..

Shiro: After that, you never have absent again. what made you change your mind. You were always so stubborn.

Kengo: Shut up nerd!, I-its because!,,,i ....wanted to be with them.

Ryota: Guys!, I think the reason we’re all here, .Its because of Harumo.

Shiro: None, of this wouldn’t have happened if Harumo weren’t here.

Kengo: Because of them. I got to fight much more stronger opponents!

Ryota: They are also the reason why have friends!

Agyo: Harumo is also the reason, how i have found my purpose,

Shiro; Harumo made big changes in the people they have come across with. even to us. ..

Shiro: Right. Toji?

Toji: Do not misunderstand Shiro Motoori, the only reason i stick with Harumo, is because i swore to protect them, nothing more nothing less.

Ryota: They are also the reason we met you!

Toji: Tha--...*sigh* fine,say what you wish,

{Door opens}

Harumo: Hey guys, im back!

Shiro: Welcome back Harumo!,...where’s Kijimuna?

Ryota: Come on!, i want to him too!

Agyo: I wonder if he is my age?

Kijimuna: HELLO EVERYONE, NICE TO MEET YOU ALL! ...are they your friends Harumo?

Harumo: Yep, Everyone, I would like you all to meet Kijimuna, he was the first person that i met when i was stranded on his island.

Agyo: He’s taller than me!

Ryota: You’re so cute!, i wanna hug him already!

Kijimuna: Yay!, HUGS!

Ryota and Kijimuna: HAHAHA!

Shiro: Hahahaha.... Hello Kijimuna, my name is Shiro Motoori. Nice to meet you..

Kengo: The names, Kengo Takabushi, sup there little fella.

Moritaka: I pleasure it is to meet you Kijimuna. My name is Moritaka Shino Inuzuka!

Agyo: And my name Agyo, im the protector of this place.

Kijimuna: WHOAH !, you’re a protector?, like me?

Agyo: You’re also a protector?

Kijimuna: Yep, i protect the Banyan Tree that has been growing on my island for years......Oh sorry,... Its a pleasure to meet you all.!

Everybody: PLEASURE TO MEET YOU TOO !

Shiro: Wait.. you mean...you have been alone in your island for how many years exactly?..

Kijimuna:*counting his fingers* More than these!

Everyone: Wha?!.

Agyo: You have been a protector for so long?

Kijimuna: Yep, Then i met Harumo. who washed up on the beach side of my island! and then i we met a lot of new people!

Shiro: I see..

Moritaka: Thats most impressive,to be able to protect something from a young age is most astounding!

Kijimuna: No one ever shows up,so there’s not a whole lot of protecting.

Kijimuna: You see. {Tells his life story before Harumo appeared}

Kijimuna: And thats when i met Harumo. and after that. i’ve became friends with so many different people and it was fun everyday in the island!

Ryota: *sobbing* whaaaa!

Harumo: R-Ryota?, are you okay?

Ryota: To be alone for so many years! WHAAAA!, *HUGS KIJIMUNA*

Kijimuna: O-okay.. calm down.. Ohhh how about we play together!..sound fun?

Ryota: *Sobbing* y-yeah okay.

Shiro: He was all alone for so many years..

Kijimuna: Do you wanna play too Uhmm...Agyo? is it?

Agyo: Playing is for little kids!

Harumo: You’re also a kid...

Agyo: Im not!

Kijimuna: *giggling*

Agyo: Are you making fun of me?!

Harumo: I think you two are going to get along really well.Since you both are protectors.

Kijimuna: *Extends his hand* i hope we could be great friends Agyo!

Agyo:......*Extends his paw* Y-Yeah!, I think so too!

Harumo and Ryota: AWWWWWW! SO CUTTEEEE!

And so,Kijimuna finally have friends that he could have a bond with,even in this hot day, the warmth of these ordeal, makes the room both cool and comfortable.

OR IS IT.....

{A LIMO DRIVES BY INFRONT OF THE SAFEHOUSE}

Agyo: Hmm.. Hey.guys i sense someone in our territory.

Harumo: I wonder who could it be?

Agyo: Its a long,black car and....oh someone got out of it.

Shiro: A limousine?

Ryota: WHOAH!, Only rich people get to ride those!

Kengo: I have a bad feeling about this..

Moritaka: Why would someone come here all of a sudden?

Toji: {Could they be after Harumo?.}

The driver of the car immediately went out with an umbrella opened as if to protect the important person sitting in the backsit. however the driver of the seat is non other than..

Harumo: Xolotl?!

Shiro: That means..

Kijimuna: Hey...is there something wrong..?

Harumo: That means Hakumen!

Xolotl the loyal servant to one of the excecutive members of the Tycoons, His Master is the owner of the famous Casino, that is blowing millions, with its extraegance.

Hakumen:HMMM....So.. this is the safe house of my liege?

Xolotl: Yes,Mistress Hakumen, according to one our sources,their safehouse is located here.

Hakumen: Oh.. i see.

Harumo:*Opens the door* Hakumen?!,

Hakumen: Oh...MY LIEGE?!

The nine tailed fox quickly went to her beloved liege in a dust,

Harumo: W-what brings you here Hakumen?.

Hakumen: Well..you see.. its pretty hot today ...and im throwing a grand party at my resort!,

Harumo: Wow!, You own a resort?!

Hakumen: Off course i do!, who do you think for?...Ahem. my liege its pretty boring since the guests will be members of the Guild and some other a-accquaintences that i invited. and i would love to personally invite you and your guild to this party..

Harumo: Hmmmm....

Shiro: If i may interrupt....

Harumo: Shiro...

Hakumen: And who are you supposed to be?

Shiro: Im Shiro Motoori, the adviser of the Summoners, Pleasure to meet you.

Hakumen: Oh.. i see...so my liege will you come?

Shiro: Forgive my rudeness, but,do you have an ulterior motive for inviting Harumo?

Hakumen: Hahah!, Well, Sorry to burst your bubble,but i have no plot to accomplish, My only wish is for beloved Liege!, to attend my party..

Shiro:Hm...

Harumo: Okay, we’ll definitely go!

Shiro: H-Harumo.. what if she has something planned?

Harumo: She wouldn’t come here in this intense heat, just to plan something bad, i think this is sincere. so lets give her a chance..

Hakumen: OHHHH,, The way my liege cares for me!, is so loving, that makes want you now even more!.

Harumo: We’ll come Hakumen!, Count on it!

Hakumen: Very well my liege, the party starts tomorrow, i’LL have the men in the entrance know your coming.

Harumo: Okay, its settled, we’ll be there Hakumen..

Hakumen: I’LL be waiting my liege!

Hakumen, goes back to her limo and drove off.

Harumo: ..Welp.. Looks like we got a party to attend to!

Shiro: Im still skeptical about her.

Ryota: Harumo,Shiro!, what happened?, what did she say?

Harumo: *explains to them*

Toji: You invited you outta the blue, Im agree with Shiro Motoori, this sounds fishy.

Ryota: C’mon guys, We don’t normally get invited to this types of parties and also i want try their food!

Kengo: You just wanna eat their food don’t cha!

Agyo and Kijimuna: Hey,whats going on!

Ryota: We’re going to a party!

Agyo and Kijimuna: Really?!, with lots of delicious food and fun games!

Harumo: I don’t think they have games, but their pool could be super fun..

Ryota: All right... We’re going to a party, try fancy delicious food and a have pool party!..Oh man!,, im so excited!

Kengo: Even though, Its cold here, I nice outing in the pool is much more enjoyable than doing nothing than sitting here in the cold.

Moritaka: Indeed,, this is going to be so much more fun than i imagined it to be..

What will happen in the party hosted by the foxy vixen Mistress Hakumen, is there a hidden plot in it or is there something instore for Harumo find out in the next part!

OKAY, THATS GOING TO BE IT FOR FIRST PART OF THIS STORY RIGHT HERE, AND THE FAMILIAR FACE PT 2, IM CURRENTLY WORKING ON IT, DON’T WORRY, AND AS ALWAYS LIKE IF YOU LOVE IT AND IF YOU READ IT BUT DIDN’T LIKE IT THEN YOU LIKE SO THATS FOR TODAY AND THANK YOU ALL FOR READING.THANK YOU VERY MUCH.....

Self-proclaimed writer: THANK YOU FOR READING EVERYONE..

Harumo: THANK YOU ALL FOR READING EVERYONE..

#housamo #tokyo afterschool summoners #mc5 #Harumo #story #fanfics #Summoners #Harumo exposed part 1 #Thank you all for reading #kijimuna

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