#if i didn’t cut it i would’ve gone off on another tangent

[sun-snatcher]

JUMPING IN IMMEEEEDIATELY because god I cannot help but think of Matt Fucking Murdock deciding that he hasn’t got a good enough grasp of what you look like after workinf with you for a while so asks to feel your face to learn by touch just!!!!!! Tender workplace tension bro

( beautiful gif, once again, from the incredible @chrlie-cox ! )

𖤓 ─ SUNNY-SIDE UP ! ; a drabble

summ. Nelson, Murdock & Page has a fresh-faced hire. pairing. matt murdock / secretary!f!reader - “Sunny” a/n. Supposed to be a blurb but got a little carried away with this one, so have a drabble instead! Potential series? Who knows.

MATT MURDOCK doesn’t get embarrassed or sheepish; I mean, he’s Daredevil for Christ’s sake. He spends his night cosplaying as a red-horned vigilante that beats criminals up in the name of justice. And let’s not even begin to discuss the irony of how he’s an unflappable pro-bono lawyer by day.

So you can only imagine Foggy’s surprise when his decade-long friend, who’s never had an issue with women back in their college-days, seemed to fumble apropos of you.

( Fawning, almost. Ducked smiles and nervous laughter and the like. )

You— the cheerful, bright-eyed, tenderfoot secretary hired by Nelson, Murdock & Page— who managed to iron out the administrative wrinkles and logistical kinks of the entire office within the first week of you being hired. 

You, who went out of your way to categorise the boxes of legal documents by case type and date, organised stacked client files and contact lists by alphabetical order, and took the time to digitise every document in the office, because: now you guys don’t have to pull long hours in here. Use technology! Go home! Shoo!

( Foggy tells Matt, half-horrified and half-impressed once upon a time: “She’s like Donna from Suits but… sunnier—”

“Hm,” Matt smiles, completely distracted in favour of listening to you titter with a client through the wall. Sunshine? he tries, No— Sunny. Yeah. The nickname suits you.

“—I once saw her type up four subpoena requests while convincing a client over the phone from dropping our firm by scheduling an appointment with them on the dot. And just the other day she handed me my motion documents before I even got the chance to ask!”

“Right after she fixed the old fax machine, too,” Karen adds in passing, “And that was before the coffee was even done brewing.” )

You’re a ‘shot of espresso’ or a ‘bath of sunlight’ or whatever the poets like to call it.

But, still. You’re Sunny. You’re, a woman. And Matt Murdock can be a womaniser when he needs to be, except— it kinda just… haywires around you, sometimes. 

It usually heads that way whenever you breeze past him, and he catches the bergamot scent of your perfume, the tray of coffee orders in your hands— Even worse when he hears your cadent voice lilt across the room:

Idle chatter with clientele; Hum of some pop-song from the radio underneath your breath; or when you throw your head back in a burst of musical laughter:

Light and radiant and warm and—

“Can I see you?” he blurts.

In the 8pm moonlight filtering through the office blinds, pouring over evidence of a defense case with him, you’re wide-eyed in bewilderment as you blink owlishly at Matt Murdock. 

“I don’t know,” you smile, humorously, “Can you?”

He huffs out a laugh from where he’s feeling the brailled tags of the filing cabinets, slotting in a dossier. ( Another beloved story of Matt’s: learning that you had meticulously braille-labelled each drawer and document title for him the first few weeks you’d joined. Christ, how did the office ever survive without you? )

 “I, I mean your face,” he explains, tilting his head. “I don’t know how you look like, so…”

Not that it matters, he thinks candidly. “May I?”

He raises his palm ever so slightly.

You worry your lip. Matt Murdock is a fine man with finer qualities and the finest face of Hell’s Kitchen— you’re not sure your poor heart can handle having his hands roving over your face, especially when Karen’s almost caught you admiring them far too many times to count. Nevertheless:

“Sure. You’ll be sorely disappointed, though,” you shrug, rising from your seat to stretch as you move towards him. “Not the prettiest mug ‘round here.”

He wrinkles his nose. “Hm. Somehow I highly doubt that.”

Your heart rate is speeding up. Matt’s just glad you’re just as shy about this as he is. 

He twitches his finger and you quietly meet his hand halfway. 

The contact buzzes through him like a bolt. 

Here, he hears you whisper. Guiding. Patient. His fingers skate your cheeks— flushed warm from his settling compliment. 

Then he drifts: your ears and temples, the arch of your brows, the dip of your nose bridge. He thumbs across your lashes and down the divot of your lips, tracing its shape and picturing every curve and detail in his mind’s eye.

It’s intriguing to witness and experience all at once. You’re not sure if a blind man could admire— but there’s a softness to his touch and a lightness in his caress that might be it; nigh reverent.

It’s painfully intimate. 

He brushes a strand away. Rests his palm at your jawline and skirts the juncture of your neck.

You want to lean into his touch. He wants to lean into you.

The proximity is intoxicating.

“You’re beautiful.”

A barely-there murmur; drowned in sincere affection.

He can feel your cheeks dig into a timid smile, and he can’t help but dimple at you too. “Hi, Sunny,” he greets, playfully. “I’m Matt Murdock.”

The laugh that bubbles out of you makes his heart sing. 

You’re reaching for his wrist to steady yourself and ducking into his shoulder as you do, and he hopes to God you can’t hear the thunder of his heart against his ribs. 

“You’re not too shabby yourself, Mr. Murdock,” you titter, catching your lip. “But I’m sure you hear that all the time.”

“Oh, yeah,” he waves, making a dismissive face, “All the time.”

You laugh again. 

And good fucking God—

He wants to get drunk on the sound of it.

— send in a blurb request !

[accioxreparo]

surprises | f.w.

synopsis: After being gone for a few years you and Fred show up at the Burrow for Halloween with a surprise no one expected.

pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

warnings: none except its unedited

a/n: hi I’m in love with dad!Fred and I thought this would be cute. And yes, their costumes are all inspired by The Greatest Showman cause I rewatched it the other day. Also it’s not my best writing and its a little rushed but I hope you guys still like it. One more fall prompt coming tomorrow for my dia de muertos inspired fic before we move on to winter! 

“This is all your fault.”

“Is not.”

“Is too,” You set down the change of clothes you were in the process of transfiguring and turned to glare at Fred who looked much more at ease than you were. “If you hadn’t insisted on showing her that movie the day would have passed by like nothing.”

“How’d you expect me to say no when she was looking at me with those big eyes of hers?” Fred moved to stand behind the place where you were sitting. He leaned down and wrapped his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your temple.

An amused smile cracked through your otherwise stern expression and immediately Fred knew he had you. But you still shook your head as he jumped over the couch, landing beside you with a soft thud. “She’s got you wrapped around her little finger.”

He hummed, not bothering to argue at all because he knew you were right. “You both do.”

“Good answer,” You nodded as you put down your wand and the now shiny red coat. “Where do you plan on taking Evie trick or treating exactly? You’ve never been and we’ve only just moved back.”

“Don’t you worry, my darling,” The smile on Fred’s face, the same plotting, mischievous one you’d fallen in love with long ago, did little to reassure you now. “I’ve got just the thing.”

*

You weren’t too sure what you’d been expecting but finding the photos removed from all your albums laying out all over the counters of your kitchen the next morning was not it at all.

“Alright sweetheart,” Fred laughed a bit at the look on your face before showing Evie another picture. “What about your Uncle Georgie, what do we think he should be?”

Your eyes trained on your daughter as she stood on her chair and searched a different set of pictures. Her face was scrunched up in concentration and you couldn’t help but notice how strikingly similar she looked to Fred, who was wearing the exact same expression.

A warmth filled your whole being as you watched the two of them looking at the photos. Photos of your family that Evie had yet to meet. Time had simply gotten away from you during the last few years. Now that Fred had taken the liberty of hiring a manager for the New York location of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes you were back home.

“This one!” The sudden exclamation caught your attention and as she pointed towards a picture in one of her books.

“A monkey!” Fred laughed and picked her up from her seat making her giggle. “You are just brilliant, princess. Why don’t you go tell your mum what you picked out for her?”

You caught Evie as she ran for you, lifting her up with ease and setting her on your hip. “Mummy you have to wear the purple dress daddy got you. He says it’s the only one.”

Almost immediately you knew exactly which one she was talking about. One made of silk that was much too short to wear out on any other occasion. When you turned to look at Fred he’d placed a hand over his mouth in a weak attempt to keep from laughing.

“Did he now?”

“He did,” Evie nodded rapidly and you laughed as her hair shook all around her. “There’s a surprise too but we have to put on our costumes first.”

“Well why don’t you go start and I’ll help you in a minute, okay sweetheart?” The moment you put her down she ran for her room and you made your way to Fred and all the pictures he’d stacked on top of each other once more. “And just what is your surprise?”

He only beamed at you, tapping the edge of the pictures once on the counter before pocketing them. “We, my darling, are taking her to the Burrow.”

You stared at him for a moment before realizing that he was completely serious and crossing your arms in front of you. “Fred Weasley you cannot show up unannounced to your mothers with a little girl she has yet to know about, are you trying to give her a heart attack?”

“Technically I have been announced,” Fred stood and pulled you into him, hands resting on your waist. “I owled everybody last night and told them to be there by one to help me get everything ready.”

“Did you tell them why?”

“Of course not, it’s called a surprise for a reason, love.” Fred only chuckled and kissed you once. The action was quickly cut off by Evie shouting for you from her room. You sighed a bit before stepping out of his hold. “Stay here until I come get you two okay? And don’t forget that dress of yours.”

“The only reason I’m putting it on is for Evie.” You smirked a bit, already starting to move backwards.

“Oh of course, love,” Fred nodded before matching your smirk. “And if she just so happens to want to sleepover at her grandma’s tonight then that is completely a coincidence and we might as well take advantage of that outfit of yours.”

You laughed then turning around before he could say anything else. “Just go.”

*

“Hey mum,” Fred was beaming the moment he stepped into the Burrow once again. Almost instantly Molly wrapped him into a tight hug. She quickly went on a slight tangent about how long it’d been she’d seen him as he greeted Arthur.

“Where’s Y/N?” She asked as she finally moved to glance behind him to see if she could spot you.

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.” Fred didn’t miss the way his mum’s eyes narrowed at him in suspicion.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing!” Fred chuckled before reaching for the last of the photos he’d brought along with him. Molly only watched as he smiled at it before handing it over to her. “Nothing bad anyway. Something really good actually, look.”

Molly stared at him for a moment more before looking down at the picture in her hands. A gasp escaped her when she saw three people smiling up at her in the moving photograph. There was Fred who was pulling you into his side, you in the middle of laughing at something, and a little girl waving at the camera.

A little girl who was practically a carbon copy of you but with Fred’s eyes and freckles. The picture couldn’t possibly have been that old considering the fact that he looked almost the same. Nonetheless, it was the absolute last thing Molly had been expecting when she heard the two of you had moved back.

“What is it?” Arthur’s attention was caught again as he moved to see what the commotion was about. When he saw the picture he only smiled, taking it to look at it a bit closer. “Is that -”

“Fred Weasley, are you really telling us we have a granddaughter you didn’t tell us about?” His mum had set one hand on the back of a chair with the other on her waist and suddenly he felt like he was a teenager getting scolded again. The action hadn’t stopped him from laughing then and it certainly didn’t stop him now. Not when he could see the excited look quickly breaking across her face.

“Surprise?” Before Fred knew it he was being pulled down into another embrace again. He supposed it was a good thing the three of them were the only ones in the kitchen given the flurry of questions his mum and dad alone asked him. “Evangeline Molly Weasley. Hope you don’t mind, mum.”

“Of course not,” Molly shook her head, reaching up to stop the happy tears from falling down her face.

“How old is she?” Arthur asked, looking at the picture once more with just as bright a grin.

“Three, almost four though. Her birthdays in two weeks so it’s perfect timing really,” Fred gave a shrug when they stared at him surprised. “Please don’t look at me like that. It wasn’t a secret on purpose, I promise.”

“You didn’t think to maybe mention the fact that you had a daughter in one of your letters?”

“I would’ve but I kept forgetting,” Fred quickly continued when the two of them started speaking over each other to scold him again. “We didn’t not tell anybody! George has come to see Evie loads of times now, I just assumed he’d tell you.”

“Don’t try to turn this on your brother,” Molly shook her head again and gave an almost exasperated sigh. “My first grandchild and you don’t even tell me. Didn’t even bring her over for a visit.”

“It’s great to see you too, mum,” He couldn’t help but instinctively duck out of the way and chuckle again when she swatted a dish towel at him. “That’s actually why I sent everyone else off to get the house ready. Evie wanted to go trick or treating and I figured what better place to bring her than here. She’s getting ready with Y/N now.”

Almost on cue there was a chorus of shouting as the door that led into the backyard opened. Fred flipped the picture of himself, you, and Evie upside down on the table, quietly muttering surprise when he saw the look his mum gave him again.

“Hang on, this list isn’t fair!” Ron shook his head as he took said list out of Harry’s hands. “Why do I have to be the elephant and he gets the lion?”

“Forget that,” Harry snatched the list back and pointed at a line scribbled near the bottom. “This says Charlie is supposed to be helping me hang up the decorations but he disappeared like twenty minutes ago. Do you know how long it’s going to take me to put up everything you brought with you?”

“Charlie had to go see a friend about creatures to borrow,” Fred answered easily before motioning towards Ron. “Tell him to help.”

“No! I’m supposed to be putting extension charms on the shed. Why don’t you make Ginny help all she’s doing is getting the bags of candy ready!”

“Excuse you,” Ginny popped her head through the window to glare at Ron. “Do you know how complicated he made this? It’s going to take me hours!”

“Hours won’t do,” Fred glanced at the clock on the wall, the one that actually told time, and frowned. He’d been gone for an hour now and he knew that Evie would start getting restless soon. “We have about two hours at most.”

“What!” Came shouted from all three of them at once before they started yelling over each other. To Fred’s delight though, Molly was the one who shushed them that time.

“That’s enough! Now all of you get to it.” Molly waited until the three of them had gone once more before taking the picture back and tucking it into her pocket. To Fred’s surprise she turned to smile at him, placing a hand on his cheek before moving to look at the list Ron and Harry had left behind. “Now let’s get this done. The sooner we finish, the sooner you can bring my granddaughter and Y/N over.”

There it was. Fred only laughed once more before agreeing and walking into the backyard beside the two of them.

*

Exactly two hours later Fred was walking up to the Burrow again. He spun around quickly to pick up Evie before she saw all the decorations that were now hung up all over the place. You understood the look he gave you right away and moved to block the rest of her line of sight.

Fred lifted her up with complete ease and smiled when he saw the pout on her face. “I need you to close your eyes for me until I say so alright, princess?”

“But -”

“No buts, sweetheart,” You interrupted when she tried turning her head. She gave you a heavy sigh before placing a hand over her eyes. “There you go. I promise you’re going to love your surprise.”

You could hear Ron and Harry before you saw them. Their voices rang across the front yard as they argued and it wasn’t until they noticed the three of you that they stopped. A laugh bubbled up from inside of you at the sight of their jaws dropping and eyes going wide.

To your amusement, they were too shocked to give anything away as Fred set Evie down and covered her ears, making sure her eyes were still closed. “Go get everyone else will you?”

“That’s a child.” Harry was the first one to break out of his trance, looking quickly between Evie, you, and Fred.

“Good eye.”

“Bloody hell, she is not yours.” Ron shook his head, a faint smile spreading across his face as he resisted the urge to walk towards the three of you.

Fred, meanwhile, grinned proudly and gave a firm nod. “She is indeed.”

“Mum! Dad!”

From inside the house you could hear Molly shouting at everyone to take their assigned places. Not thinking of anything else you gravitated towards the house that had become your own over the years with your excitement ready to spill over.

The moment Molly saw you she pulled you in for a tight hug, Arthur appearing in the doorway soon after and doing the same. They looked at you after briefly looking at Fred who’s now talking to Evie, still holding her so she couldn’t see the decorations yet. “We are so proud of the two of you.”

“Thank you,” You really couldn’t help the way your whole body relaxed along with the overwhelming feeling of finally being home again. Of course the last few years with Fred and Evie were amazing and you’d adored every moment. But being there at the Burrow again, with everybody else you held dear, was a feeling you always knew you missed. “Come and meet her.”

You pulled them along and Fred looked at the three of you, eyes sparkling with this look of pure happiness. He finally let go of Evie and she didn’t hesitate before shooting around to face you. Her head tipped to the side curiously before an excited smile broke across her face.

“I know them!” She shouted, looking up at Fred and then at you. Finally her eyes landed on Molly and Arthur and she jumped up and down a couple times. “That’s grandma and grandpa.”

“Sure is,” You smiled and held your hand out to her, one she took with ease. “Come say hi, sweetheart.”

Evie took to them immediately, happily answering every question they asked her and telling them everything she’d heard from you and Fred. She easily grabbed hold of both their hands as they led her towards the front door and pointing out all the decorations, ones Fred had made sure they knew she loved.

Bill was the one to answer the door when she finally knocked and he didn’t quite know what to say at first. He stuttered a bit as he glanced back at you and Fred before he shook his head and ducked down to Evie’s level with a surprised laugh.

“My costume sure makes a lot more sense now,” Bill looked down at the striped cut off shirt Fred had thrown at him earlier before smiling at the little girl he’d yet to meet. “And who might you be?”

“Evie.” She stood a little straighter, fixing her coat and the hat on top of her head, then smiled at him. “My daddy told me who you were already.”

“He did?” 

“Yeah.” She nodded eagerly, already having forgotten the bag in her hands. It’s wasn’t until Bill handed her a chocolate frog box that she even remembered she was there to trick or treat. He really couldn’t help but give in when she asked if he wanted to join them.

Evie, however, quickly left all of you behind when she saw little creatures she didn’t recognize flying over her head the moment she stepped into the backyard. Only moments later she caught sight of George and excitedly ran for him.

Charlie, who’d been standing beside him, stared for a moment as George picked her up so she could almost reach the little creatures. He was surprised when Evie then turned to him to ask about the tiny little dragon crawling across his shoulders, and took a second to process the fact that this little girl who already knew him was apparently his niece.

It was only when Fred walked over that he shook himself out of his trance and smiled, picking up the little dragon and letting it crawl across his hand and onto hers.

The same sort of scene followed everywhere they went. Evie knew each of them by name already and she didn’t hesitate to let them know. Each one of them had reacted similarly, conversing with Evie until she moved on to the next scene before moving towards you and Fred with surprise.

Though they each silently figured that they shouldn’t have been. The entire course of yours and Fred’s relationship had been filled with surprises and it only made sense that this would be your biggest one yet.

It was late by the time you finally made your way to Fred again after being pulled in every direction.

Golden hues surrounded the entire backyard as the sun started setting below the horizon. Everybody had long since surrounded Evie, more than happy to keep her entertained. At the moment she sat beside Arthur who was helping her carve one of the magically grown pumpkins they had picked together from the garden.

Meanwhile you and Fred were picking through her bag of sweets, silently hoping she wouldn’t notice how many you’d eaten already. You let out a content sigh as you leaned your head on Fred’s shoulder, “Why did we wait so long to do this?”

“I really don’t know,” He answered as he rested his head on yours, taking one of your hands with his free one. “Did you miss all of this as much as I did?”

“Absolutely.”

“Hey,” There was only a brief moment of silence before Fred suddenly turned to you with a new idea and another smirk on his face. “What are the odds we can escape for a bit now that we’ve got people to watch her for us?”

“You really have a one track mind don’t you?” You shook your head, watching as he stood up and offered you his hand.

To Fred’s delight though, you took it. He glanced behind him to make sure everyone else was otherwise occupied before winking and pulling you inside the house. “Only for you my darling.”

[janetbrown711]

"I didn't mean to hurt anyone," wakko?

Wakko never thought of himself as a worrier. He always held out hope that somehow, someway everything would work out- that Good would prevail and Evil would fall. He believed with all his heart it was his and his sibling’s destiny to defeat Salazar. He knew Dot was going to get better, and that Yakko would finally be able to relax for more than just five minutes. 

However... being on his own for the first time challenged that. 

He had taken the baker’s advice and went straight to the apprenticeship with the blacksmith. It had been excruciatingly difficult, and Wakko put a lot of blood sweat, and tears into the work he did. He had been revolted to find out that he was only paid a ha’penny a week. Sending letters had cost at least three ha’pennies so by the end of week one, he had had to get crafty. 

He ‘borrowed’ paper from the blacksmith and wrote as neat and concise as he could manage before putting in the one ha’penny and the letter in an envelope (also ‘borrowed’ from the blacksmith) and snuck it into the mailman’s bag when he wasn’t looking. As for how he got food, he would take a piece of fruit or bread from the man when he wasn’t looking. 

It wasn’t easy to do though, the blacksmith was a good person; he was stoic and old, hardly ever talked, except the occasional warning to Wakko that he shouldn’t touch or eat something, despite how delicious it looked. He was patient, though at the same time very distant. It was hard for Wakko to read him. 

However, Wakko had gotten too comfortable too fast, as he had gotten caught stealing the blacksmith’s food and he fired him, said it was “a betrayal of his trust”. His words had stung Wakko, and he left without fighting, but not without taking a few pieces of paper and envelopes- Yakko and Dot would kill him if he didn’t write. 

The letters. 

Wakko thought he would love writing them, but it got harder and harder the more time passed. Wakko embellished how he was doing a lot, but he could tell Yakko wasn’t being entirely honest either. His words were fancy and he tended to dance around questions Wakko had asked. Wakko wished he had the energy and paper to argue with him, but he didn’t. He hated being lied to, but they quite literally couldn’t afford to bring it up. 

After he got fired, he wandered and worked as an errand boy for a senile, but wealthy woman. He didn’t like it though- she was rude and she constantly spat on him, or hit him with her cane, which left him with nasty bruises. 

He was almost thankful when she dropped dead one day. 

He stole as much silverware, stamps, papers, and envelopes as he could fit into his hat before he alerted anyone of what had happened. 

Still- seeing a corpse hadn’t been... pleasant. 

It reminded him that, yes, death was a thing and was inescapable and could happen to his little sister at any moment while he was gone. 

Needless to say, he did his best not to dwell on that, and sold all of the silverware as soon as possible and gave almost all the money to Yakko in the letter he wrote. 

That should help delay Death for a while... hopefully, Yakko could buy her a new blanket, or a shawl. She always got so cold in the winter with just her skirt. 

Wakko then went to work as a berry picker at the farm of an old cat couple with a few other children his age, though none of them liked talking. However, he only worked there for the month of May because he had gotten fired once they found out he had been eating more berries than he turned in. Wakko was hungry, and the farmers didn’t pay him enough for him to afford enough food anyway, Wakko thought that was bull. 

However, he quickly regretted that decision when he had gotten a letter from Yakko that admitted that Dot was going through another rough patch. His brother wrote that he and Dot missed him a whole awful lot, but that they weren’t giving up yet. At least that was nice... 

Still, Wakko couldn’t help but feel guilty. His selfishness had gotten him fired from two jobs, and because of that, his siblings were suffering. Sometimes he wished he could just magically fix everything with the snap of his fingers, but he knew that wasn't how it worked. If it was, he would’ve done it already. 

After that, he was determined to find a job that would stick. Unfortunately, that was only getting more difficult, as the town that had once been not quite prospering still functioning well enough was starting to fall apart due to the King’s taxes only rising. The only good thing that came out of that was that prices were starting to lower which meant that if he could find a spare coin on the ground, he could probably actually afford something. However, that also meant jobs were going down, and so it was damned near impossible to find something to do. 

Wakko had spent a whole month without a job. He lived on the street and picked up fallen coins and didn’t write- couldn’t write- a single letter. The last one he had sent had been about the farm, and he had lied and told Yakko it had burned down so he couldn't write to there anymore. Wakko could imagine how worried Dot and Yakko must’ve been. The thought of their worry kept him up at night. 

Still. 

A little voice in his head told him not to give up, that he come to far to call it quits now. He promised he’d return in a year, and that’s what he’d do. 

“Bravery is not the absence of fear, it’s doing something in spite of it.” 

Wakko had a vague memory of someone telling him that a very long time ago, but he couldn’t recall who.

During the late summer, he had worked different jobs every day. Some days, he’d deliver packages for a fraction of what the king’s mail delivery costed, others he’d return library books, and on some, he’d shine shoes. It was exhausting to run around for days on an empty stomach, but somehow he managed to scrape on by with just enough money to send to Yakko and Dot and survive. 

Despite the feeling that summer would last forever, autumn arrived and it was the harvesting season. Wakko had heard that farms were in need of help, and he went off to go work at the pumpkin farm that was just a few miles out from town. Wakko had been delighted when he heard about the opportunity and had run seven miles to get there before anyone else. The farmer, a middle-aged Rabbit, had been pleased with his enthusiasm but warned him that he couldn’t pay much and that most of his payment would be in food and shelter, but Wakko didn’t care. He hated sleeping in alleys with a passion and swore never to do that again. Plus, he knew Yakko and Dot were probably pissed at him for not writing for several months, not giving him an address to write to, or anything. Plus, Wakko was not going to pass up on an opportunity for someone else to pay for his food. 

However, he had thought working on a farm during the spring was hard, autumn was much, much harder. The town where he worked somehow managed to get more snow than Acme Falls, and earlier, so he often had to wake up before the sun rose and attempt to “fight off the freeze” as the farmer called it. Wakko didn’t care what it was called, it was agonizing. He ended up with blisters and sore arms and had even cut himself on the ax he used to chop branches quite a few times. 

However, none of that mattered when he read the letters Yakko and Dot sent.  Wakko hadn’t realized just how much he had missed them until he saw their handwriting on the paper in his hand. 

Dot had apparently gone through another rough patch during the time Wakko couldn’t write but had gotten much better, even being able to go out of the ‘house’ and take walks by the river. Yakko wrote that Dot still missed him terribly, and was really mad that he hadn’t written in forever. Yakko then went on a tangent about how much it had worried him, but that he was still relieved and happy that Wakko was safe and okay.

Wakko’s reply had been full of apologies and embellished about his current situation (saying things like ‘i have an actual bed and it’s really comfortable’ and ‘the food is amazing’ and ‘i barely have to work at all’ and ‘I haven’t even hurt myself once!’). He didn’t want to worry Yakko any more than he already had. 

In truth, the farmer wasn’t a very nice person, though he was nice enough to provide shelter and food for Wakko and the few others that worked alongside him. However, he did get annoyed when Wakko injured himself, and didn’t provide bandages, so Wakko would have to make do by tearing up pieces of his pillowcase. Soon enough, he tore it all up and there was no more pillow, which hadn’t been fun for sleeping. He also shouted and swore a lot, but Wakko mostly tuned it out, having had good practice after the senile dead lady. 

Still, a job was a job, and Wakko wouldn’t have traded it for anything in the world. He was able to keep up his promise with one ha’penny being sent home every two weeks, which Yakko noted was becoming “more and more useful in Acme Falls, as the economy was clearly in shambles”, whatever that meant.

Unfortunately, the harvest came to an end sooner than Wakko had hoped and he was back on the streets in the blink of an eye. He had a few survival strategies he had picked up from observing his older brother over the years, but surviving on the streets in the snow was a lot, a lot harder than surviving on the streets, not during the snow. 

And even more unfortunately, there were little to no jobs available anymore. The only ones that were available required him to walk far distances in the snow even during snowstorms. Of course, he took them, but they were grueling and made every muscle in his body ache. 

And so he resorted to his least favorite solution: stealing. 

Whenever he’d walk past the market, he’d snatch an apple or a loaf of bread if he could manage and hide it in his package until it was safe and he could eat it. He stole matches so he could start fires in the garbage. He stole books that belonged to the library for kindling for said fires. He felt insanely guilty every time, but no matter what way he looked at it, there was no other option. 

His main motivator had been survival. He knew he needed enough money for a ticket home in December, but knew that that’d be near impossible if he attempted to pay for his own things- especially with the taxes taking nearly all of the money he had earned with doing the jobs- and god only knew how guilty he had felt that he hadn’t been able to send any money home for Dot. Still... he figured coming home would be an at least okay replacement. 

He hoped. 

He wrote letters but didn’t give return addresses, fearing what Yakko would say again. He knew he must’ve been outraged that Wakko hadn’t written or sent money in awhile, and he prayed Dot was doing okay and that they didn’t need the money he wasn’t able to get. 

He didn’t have the heart to write about his worries about not being able to come home after all...

Wakko shivered as he thought of that, before snapping back into reality realizing where he was. He had an awful tendency of getting distracted while he was doing errands, it was a problem. 

Especially if he was trying to focus on nabbing some food. If he didn’t focus, he was likely to get caught. 

Shaking his head to get back to the present, he looked around and saw an empty stall selling some type of fruit he hadn’t seen before, but figured it’d be enough. He casually sauntered on over there, and began to walk past before snatching one with his tail and quickly putting it into the box of books he was returning to the library for an old dog man. 

“Hey! Kid!” Wakko froze when he heard a voice behind him. He peeked over his shoulder and saw it was the man who owned the booth. 

“Stop right there!” He shouted. Wakko bolted. 

He ran through the crowded market, but unfortunately for him, he slipped on some ice on the path and came crashing to the ground, books going flying everywhere, and his fruit was squashed to a pulp. 

“Hey-! Kid- are you alright?” The man’s anger faded into concern and Wakko muttered to himself and trying to gather his stuff, ignoring the throbbing in his head, and stinging in his-likely scraped- knee. Eventually, he heard the man approach him, but to his surprise, he started helping Wakko put the books back into the box. Wakko didn’t look at him much, but could feel the man giving him pitiful looks. 

“Look- I know what you’re gonna say and you’re wrong. I-i... I swear that I’m a good kid, okay?” Wakko sniffled as he put a blue-colored book down.

“I wasn’t going to say anything of the sort,” the man replied, handing Wakko a green book. Wakko took it hesitantly, still not willing to look him in the eyes. 

“I was going to offer you some more of that fruit you took, but you ran in such a hurry, I couldn’t get my words out,” He said. Wakko didn’t know if he believed that.  

“I-i just need enough money for my sister and a train ticket...” Wakko mumbled. The man nodded. 

“You got family?” He asked. Wakko nodded. 

“Sister and brother in Acme Falls,” he said. 

“That’s quite a ways away. I suppose you came here for work but that ain’t working out well, is it?” He asked. Wakko frowned and didn’t answer. He wasn’t liking his tone...

“Here, I’ll give you a bag of clementines if you’ll let me. I can even help you with those books if you need,” The man said, standing. 

“I can take care of myself,” Wakko scowled, but realized that was probably a really stupid thing to say. He was starving...

“B-but I’ll take the clementines...” Wakko added. The man nodded, and stood up, and headed back to his booth. Wakko did his best to ignore the looks the crowd was giving him as he followed. 

“Here you go, sixteen clementines. That should do you good for quite some time. Oh- and here,” The man dug under his booth and Wakko stood awkwardly with his tongue sticking out. 

“This should get you a train ticket, and hopefully enough left over for those siblings of yours,” he said, handing Wakko a little brown sack. Wakko gawked at it. 

“I-i can’t accept all this. I’m sure you need it,” Wakko refused. 

“Nonsense. I got all the clementines I could want. And besides, I don’t need to ride on a train to return to my family any time soon,” He waved it off. 

“B-but the king’s taxes-” 

“I know how to make due. I know you need the money, and if you know what’s good for you you’ll accept,” He pointed at Wakko, and Wakko realized he wasn’t wrong. He just wished he could do something for the man in return, but knew he couldn’t. 

“Th-thanks mister... it’s been a really long time since someone’s been this nice to me,” he looked at the ground. 

“No problem kiddo. Stay safe out there, winter is a dangerous time. Might want to bandage that knee of yours,” He pointed to Wakko’s bleeding knee. Wakko nodded. 

“Thanks, will do, mister,” he said, grabbing the sack of clementines, putting it in the box with the books, and put the little brown bag of money in his hat. He then waved goodbye and headed on to finish his task, get paid, them immediately lose said payment to taxes, but smiled internally. The tax collector didn’t know about the money in his hat, so he didn’t collect it.

It looked like Wakko was going to be able to come home after all. 

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

[brasskier]

@badthingshappenbingo​ trope #4!

Trope: Concussion

Summary: Jaskier feels like a detective, albeit a clumsy, scrambled-eggs-for-brains kinda detective. He has two mysteries on his plate at the moment - why is Geralt in a bad mood, and why won't his brain cooperate? (Hint: perhaps it has something to do with hitting his head that morning.)

Read on my ao3 or below the cut:

Jaskier probably should've told Geralt when he slipped and smashed his head into a rock on the riverbank coming back up from his morning bath, or should've at least known it was bad when bright worms of light started squiggling in his peripheral and words suddenly got a lot harder to string together. And maybe he would've, if he wasn't so intent on figuring out why Geralt was in such a piss-poor mood that morning. He felt like a detective - albeit a clumsy, scrambled-eggs-for-brains kinda detective - stringing together clues and occasionally nudging the witcher along with leading questions, at least when he could get his brain, lips, and tongue to all cooperate. 

Unfortunately, Jaskier was doing about as well at solving the mystery of Geralt the extra-grumpy witcher as he was figuring out what was going on in his own skull. It'd happened once when he was a boy, falling out of a twisty, too-tall tree. His father, may he rest in peace, didn't notice until Jaskier, uncharacteristically silent, stared vacantly past him— until that point he'd been more preoccupied scolding him for ruining yet another fine pair of trousers. (His parents paid good money for those things, but he was pretty sure maybe they should've learned by that point and stopped dressing him up in finery before releasing him into the world.) 

Speaking of, he could use a new pair of pants. Maybe once they made it to the next town he could find a seamstress, maybe even invest in a nice new doublet as well. Geralt always pretended he found such purchases frivolous and vain, all huffy and monosyllabic, but Jaskier knew full well it put him in a good mood to have something to tease Jaskier for.

Good mood. Right. He was supposed to be figuring out why he was in a decidedly not good mood. He was supposed to… well, he really didn't know past that. His thoughts flitted about his head like a chicken desperate to escape its coop, and this thought made him giggle to himself, picturing his squishy brain with a beak and feathers squawking about.

"Jaskier?" He glanced up at the witcher that had reclaimed his attention, finding it distinctly difficult to track his movements as he bobbed along on his horse. "Did you listen to a thing I said?" Well, that was a silly question, Jaskier thought, because in order for him to listen, Geralt would've had to have said something. His mind trapped like a stuck cog on how to put this minor incongruence into words, and the witcher glared at him in the space of his tenuous silence. 

"How could I?" He asked finally, head tilted to parallel the uncertainty etched in his tone.

"With your ears," Geralt deadpanned, and Jaskier grimaced under the frustration of his misunderstanding.

"No, that's not— I meant— you didn't—" he attempted to elaborate, but once again found his brain, flighty as a hummingbird, refused to put thoughts to language. Geralt slowed Roach to a halt, and only then did Jaskier realize he'd at some point stopped walking. He wasn't too sure when that happened, but he was sure he had to start again, because Geralt was already in a bad mood and the uneasy threat of abandonment always loomed thick. 

This, in hindsight, might've been a mistake. The trees spun, ground tilting ominously like a ship caught in a storm, and Jaskier staggered with the rhythm of it. This, finally, mercifully, seemed to tip off Geralt and his fancy-schmancy witcher senses that something wasn't right. 

"Jaskier?" He called, and he still sounded decidedly disgruntled. This wasn't good; Jaskier was supposed to be getting him in a better mood, not making things worse. He'd even been quiet for a change (moreso due to his tongue's uncooperativeness than any conscious choice on his part, not that Geralt needed to know this detail). 

The witcher swung a leg off the saddle, dismounted with the grace of a cat. (Which was funny; wasn't Geralt supposed to be a wolf? Didn't Geralt's brother know a cat witcher? Maybe cat witchers were even more graceful, like ballerinas; Geralt would never do ballet.) This thought would've also made Jaskier giggle, but he was hesitant to unclamp his jaw at the moment, fearful that more than words might spill past it.

"Jaskier?" It was more urgent this time, which Jaskier vaguely recognized was not good, but couldn't quite recall why. When he managed to force his eyes to focus for a split second, Geralt was in front of him, before the forest swelled again and swallowed him with it. He pressed a hand over his eyes, in the vain hope blindness might put an end to the spinning; he had no such luck, and found himself drifting even in the darkness. 

"Mmm?" He hummed, which was usually Geralt's line, but he was determined to keep up the tight-lipped defiance of his own body. He felt a hand scrape his forehead, shifting his carefully mussed hair, and then move down to cup his chin between two fingers. It was a gruff, economic movement; Jaskier, in his self-imposed darkness, pretended it was tender.

"What's wrong with you?" Even Geralt's voice seemed to be swimming, tilting forward and back with each strangely distorted syllable. What isn't, Jaskier wanted to joke in return, snicker a little at Geralt's frustration. But he couldn't, at least not without giving into opening his mouth, and besides, Geralt was already in a bad mood. Instead, he shrugged, a turn of phrase about tables that turned flitting through his thoughts, and he surely felt like he was on a turning table, not that any tables Jaskier had ever seen were exactly known for turning. 

"Is it your throat?" It was a reasonable line of thought for Geralt to stroll down, to be fair, considering the whole thing with the djinn. Gods, how he wished he had a djinn right now, less-than-stellar experience aside. If he had one, there'd be none of that bloody Valdo Marx bullshit; no, instead the forest wouldn't spin anymore, his brain and tongue would cooperate, and Geralt would be in a good mood. 

Jaskier really was doing a shit job of uplifting Geralt's spirits, wasn't he? At the very least, he'd managed to tease out the source of his foul temper; at present, it was Jaskier himself. He risked a peek out into the world again, found concerned amber eyes tucked under a tight scowl tilting like a leaf in the wind, and promptly squeezed them shut again. Oh, yeah. Geralt had asked him a question— what was it? Ah, it was gone now, too late. He shook his head, hoping he was actually answering. This was a mistake, because it sent stars erupting in the darkness and an unbidden groan worming its way past his lips. 

"What, Jaskier?" Geralt sounded even more exasperated, if such a thing were possible, and Jaskier flung a hand up to press over his mouth, as if that might help whatsoever; it didn't. 

"No— fuck, I'm—" In one clumsy motion he managed to tear himself back and away from Geralt, jerk to the side, and stumble over his own two feet and onto his knees just in time to escape vomiting on Geralt's boots. That was good; vomit on his boots would've really pissed him off. The weathered hand that had earlier cupped his chin (Jaskier could still feel the ghost of it on his skin) came to sit heavy between his shoulder blades. This touch not even Jaskier could make feel gentle.

"Okay," Geralt hummed, somewhere to his side. "Alright, okay." Was this Geralt's attempt at being soothing? How Jaskier wished he could tell him he appreciated it; maybe later, when his stomach wasn't still bucking uncooperatively like a spooked horse. This was funny, too; Roach in his stomach, kicking and snorting, but Jaskier was beginning to get tired of silly tangents.

Come to think of it, Jaskier was just tired, his limbs suddenly heavy, pounding in his skull coming into sharp focus. The hand migrated up to his collar, no doubt to tug him back upright, but he wrenched free and let himself drop to the dirt before Geralt had the chance. A nap sounded absolutely divine at the moment, and he was beginning to think he couldn't care less whether the witcher stuck around to wait it out or not. (This last detail was, patently, an absolute lie, and Jaskier knew it full well even as the thought first pattered into his consciousnesses.)

Geralt rolled him over, flipped him on his side, and this was both a small mercy (he hadn't been abandoned) and a horrendous blight (the sun glaring directly into his eyes, even as he pressed a clumsy hand to cover them again.) Another callused hand swiped across his forehead, his cheek, made its way down his neck and pried back his doublet. Jaskier wasn't sure what Geralt was looking for, and he also didn't particularly think he'd find it, whatever it was. 

"There's no fever," Geralt announced, as if this were some grand discovery, a breakthrough in medical sciences. "Something you ate?" Ah, so now Geralt was playing detective, and Jaskier had all but given up on his case; another reversal of roles. Well, maybe at the very least Jaskier could give him better clues, or at least try.

"Head," he groaned, rolling back onto his side, cool dirt not unpleasant against his skin. This time, no hands tugged at him, but instead Geralt gave a soft hum, barely distinguishable from the ringing in his ears. "Hurts," he tacked on because, while it might've been implied, with Geralt it never hurt to be explicit. 

"Now we're getting somewhere." That thrice-damned hand returned again, worked its way through his hair, dragging along every bump and curve until he scuffed against a half-healed scab and a sharp pain ricocheted through Jaskier's skull. He recoiled, writhing for a moment before curling even tighter into himself. "When did you hit your head?" That was a good question, because Jaskier wasn't all too sure anymore if he even had.

"Dunno," he mumbled. Now if only Geralt could put a pause to the interrogation so he might be afforded the small mercy of dying in peace. “River?”

"Helpful." Footsteps, echoing through the dirt and drilling through his head with each heavy footfall, further and further and further away until he could only feel, not hear, them. This was fine. Not the end he felt truly befit a heroic bard of his renown, but humble enough to satisfy him nonetheless. Just him and the trees as he returned to the earth from whence he was borne. 

Then those blasted footsteps returned, those hands hoisted him, and he was face-first on the scratchy wool of his bedroll. He nuzzled against it, like a cat (he really needed to ask Geralt for the name of that cat witcher his brother knew). 

"You have a concussion." A light flickered to life somewhere in his brain at this revelation. One of his grand mysteries, finally come to its disappointingly anticlimactic conclusion. He still didn't know why Geralt had been in such a piss-poor mood, but he decided that was a puzzle for another time, letting his breath even out with impending sleep.

"Jaskier, I need to know you understand me, okay?" As soft as his words were, Jaskier couldn't help but find it incredibly rude of him to interrupt his much-needed and well-deserved rest. If he kept pushing it, Jaskier thought, perhaps Geralt would be having to solve the mystery of why he was grumpy.

"Mmm, okay." This earned him another pat on the shoulder, as gentle a touch as anything Jaskier could ever hope for. 

"I'll need to wake you periodically to make sure you don't lose what little wit you have," Geralt informed him, "but you can rest now." He felt like a sinking ship, overcome with warmth. Loose-limbed and giddy, he jutted out a clumsy hand and flailed blindly until it flopped against Geralt's arm, and he latched on. "Just tell me next time you hit your head."

"Thank you," he managed to get out on the tail end of a breath, slurred with exhaustion, disappointed when the witcher carefully extracted his wrist from his grip. A blanket settled on top of him, and he fumbled to tug it closer. 

"Just sleep." Needing no convincing, Jaskier did as he was told. And in his dreams, Geralt was in a good mood, and he could still feel the ghost of his hand on that patch of skin on his chin. 

[gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights]

Rating: G

Summary: XY tries to steal Luka's non-existent gym badges.  Instead, they both end up making a new friend.  (For @luxyweek day 3: Pokemon)

Word Count: 2071

XXX

Luka woke up to a stranger rummaging in his bag.

He should’ve known better than to fall asleep in the Pokémon Center, especially in a city as big as Lumiose.  Exhaustion after a late concert was no excuse to be careless.  Even if crime was rarer after the takedown of Team Flare, there were still unorganized thieves around.

Like this idiot who thought Luka was an easy target.

“C’mon, he’s gotta have at least one…” The idiot was mumbling.

Without opening his eyes, Luka slowly moved his hand to his pocket.  He pulled out the one pokéball he had on him.

“Who the heck carries so many metronome items…?” 

While the thief was distracted, Luka pressed the button on his pokéball.  One click, and his Loudred burst free.

“GWAHHHH!!!”  She boomed, and the thief jumped back with a shriek.

“Wh-h-hey!” he stammered.  Luka finally got a good look at him.  Tall blonde hair, tacky outfit—was this some remixed Team Flare grunt after all?  He was wearing purple rather than red, though.

“That’s an, uh, nice dude you got there.”  He eyed Luka’s Loudred dubiously.

“Symphony is a girl.”  He scratched her behind the ear, and she made a low rumble.

“Uh.  Nice babe then.”

Luka snorted.  Why had this thief bothered to stick around?  He thought he’d have run off by now.  Luka really hoped he wasn’t going to have to battle.  Symphony had worked hard enough tonight.

“Why were you looking through my bag?”

“Pshaw, I wasn’t doing that.  Besides, you don’t have anything useful.”

Wow.  This guy really was an idiot.  The Team Flare grunts were never too smart, either.  Just a bunch of kids who got mixed up with the wrong crowd.

Well, Luka was no trainer like the ones who’d busted them up last year.  But maybe he could keep one kid from following down that road.

“What do you count as useful?”  Luka asked.  “Money?  Items?  Pokémon?”

“Maybe Pokémon would be useful, if they’d stop being haters and listen to me.”  The guy crossed his arms and pouted.

“...So you’re not a trainer?”  Luka glanced around the Pokémon Center.  Everyone else was very determined to mind their own business.  Not that Luka needed their help to deal with a guy who couldn’t even use his own Pokémon, but still.  Someone could’ve tried.

“I’m going to be a trainer.  Just as soon as I steal a badge and get this Zorro dude to listen to me.”

Luka raised an eyebrow.  “Zorro dude?”

“Yeah.  Dark type?  Sick red ponytail?  Likes to copy me and make me look stupid?”

He sat up straighter.  “You have a Zoroark?”

That Pokémon was rare enough to border on legendary.  They didn’t even live in the Kalos region.

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”  The guy looked at Luka like he was stupid.

“How did you catch a Zoroark if it won’t even listen to you?”

“Dad gave ‘im to me.  He wants me to get famous here, but it’s harder to fake battles than I thought.”  He sighed dramatically and sunk to the seat next to Luka.

Clearly the ‘get famous’ plan wasn’t working.  Luka had no idea who he was.  At least he was pretty sure he wasn’t a Team Flare grunt, though.

“And you’re telling me this… after trying to rob me… why…?”

“Cause you asked.”

Luka blinked.  “Touché.”

He gave Symphony one last pat, then returned her to her pokéball.

“Traded Pokémon won’t listen to you without badges,” he told the would-be thief.  “And I don’t have any of those, if that’s what you were looking for.”

“Really?  But you look—”  The guy gestured to all of him.  “Y’know.  Cool.  Tough.”

“Thanks? I guess?  I’m just a musician, though.”  He patted his guitar next to him.  It was pretty telling that this guy hadn’t tried to steal that.  “I only battle if I have to.”

“Huh.  Well that’s pretty cool too, I guess.”  The guy shrugged.  “I did Pokémon Contests in Hoenn for a while.  Before I got banned for using holograms.”

Luka raised an eyebrow.  “Any other international crimes you want to confess to?”

“Crashed my boat into a herd of Luvdisc in Alola.  But that was an accident.  How was I supposed to know they were endangered?”

“I was being sarcastic, man.”  Luka shook his head.  “Nevermind.  Come on.”

He stood and hoisted his guitar over his shoulder.

“Huh?  Where are we going?”  The guy trotted after him.

“To catch you a Pokémon.  Before you get yourself kicked out of another country.”

XXX

The stranger’s name was XY.  It stood for Xavier-Yves.  It didn’t sound like an Unovan name, but that was still the least weird thing about the guy.  Maybe that was just a pseudonym.  He probably needed one after all of his criminal acts, accidental or not.

“Alright, XY.”  Luka stood knee-deep in the grass of Route 4.  “You’re going to be borrowing Symphony for this.  Borrowing.  If you run off with her, she’ll suplex you into the ground.”

XY eyed the Loudred next to him.  Sweat beaded on his forehead.

“Got it, Mr. Couffaine.”

“Just Luka is fine.”  He sighed.  This was such a weird way to be spending the night after a concert, but it was still better than going home.

“Got it, Mr. Luka.”

Close enough.

“Alright, now follow me into the grass.”

“I can’t do that!  That’s where the Pokémon are!”

Luka rolled his eyes.  “That’s the point.  You’re going to catch one.”

“I thought you were going to catch me one.  Because you’re cool and sexy like that.”

“Flattery’s not getting you out of this.”  Luka grabbed his wrist and tugged him into the grass, Symphony following behind them.

XY squealed again.  “But what if they eat me!”

“We’re on Route 4, dude.  The biggest Pokémon out here is a Skitty.”

“...Those things eat meat, right?”

“No.”  Even if they did, they would probably know better than to eat XY.  They didn’t know where he’d been.

“If I die, you’re paying for my funeral,” XY grumbled, even though he’d already gone off on four tangents about how rich his dad was.  Luka didn’t even bother responding.

Suddenly XY screamed again.  A few Fletching flew out of the red flower patch.  At this rate, they’d never catch anything.

“What is it this ti—oh.”  Luka blinked down at the tiny Pokémon clinging to XY’s ankle.  “It’s just a Flabébé.”

The little girl seemed to have mistaken XY’s socks for a flower.  She was shuddering, cowering against the fabric even as XY tried to shake her off.

“Dude, cut it out.”  Luka gripped him by the shoulders.  “This is perfect.  She already likes you.”

“Y-you think so?”  XY set his foot back on the ground.  The Flabébé tentatively looked up.

“You might not even need Symphony to weaken her.  Here.”  Luka took out a pokéball, but hesitated to hand it over.  “Are you going to take good care of her if I give you this?”

“What gives, man?”  XY snatched the ball.  “You were gonna teach me about catching Pokémon, not about, like, parenting stuff.”

Luka hadn’t thought this through enough before seeing the little Flabébé.  He couldn’t in good conscience condemn her to a life with XY without knowing that he would treat her right.

“Are you staying in Lumiose?  I live at the edge of the city.  I could come check on her.  Just to make sure she’s not giving you too much trouble.”

“I didn’t know you were gonna want joint custody.”  XY smirked.  “But sure, whatever.  Can’t complain if you want to do half my work for me.”

He knelt down and tapped the Flabébé on her head.

“You are just a little thing, aren’t you?”  He let out a nasal laugh.  “How do you feel about me being your new dad?”

“Please don’t say it like that.”  Luka groaned.

The Flabébé fluttered into XY’s palm and nudged the pokéball.  Wow.  She must really have no standards.

“Sorry.  Me and Lu are gonna be your new dads.”  XY grinned.

“Aaaand that’s even worse.”

The Flabébé looked at Luka.  He looked at her.  She looked at him.  He looked at her.

“...I’m not being your other dad.”

Symphony blasted out a honk of laughter.  He glared at her.

“Don’t make me put you back in the pokéball.”

She just smiled innocently.

“Okay, okay.  Shut up.  We’re doing this.”  XY took a deep breath and pressed the button on the pokéball with his thumb.  It split open, sucking the Flabébé into its light.

The ball glowed red while rocking back and forth.  Once.  Twice.  Three times.

Then it went still.

“I—I did it?”  XY stared at the ball in his palm.  Luka swore there was wonder in his eyes.

Hopefully this hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.

“You did it.”  Luka clapped him on the shoulder.  “Why don’t you let her out now?  She should get used to you before you take her home.”

After fumbling for a moment, XY popped the ball open.  The Flabébé flashed back out and hovered in the air.  She quickly zipped down and plucked a red flower, hugging it close.

“Aww, our first date and she’s already giving me flowers.”  XY laughed.

“It’s not for you.  Flabébé has to keep one close for protection.”

“Ah. Like a comfort blanket.”  XY nodded sagely.  “That’s okay!  I’ll pick my own flower.  Then we can match!”

He snatched up another red bloom, then tucked it behind his ear.

Luka was surprised to find himself smiling.  Who would’ve thought XY could actually be cute?  When he wasn’t trying to steal Luka’s non-existent gym badges, anyway.

“Are you going to name her?”  He asked to keep his thoughts away from that tangent.

“Huh?  Oh.  Uh… hmm.”  XY’s brow furrowed.  He stared at the Flabébé, who had fluttered back into his palm.  “You can’t tell me your name, can you?”

She let out a tiny squeak.  

“Hmm.  Yeah.  I feel that.”  He nodded.  “How about Cheeto?”

“Cheeto?”  Luka burst before he could think better of it.  Who named their Pokémon Cheeto?  

“Yeah, ‘cause she’s got that yellow dust all over her.”  XY rubbed a tiny bit of it off with his fingertip.  Flabébé almost seemed to purr.

“You mean… pollen?”

XY raised an eyebrow.  “Ew, gross.  What kind of name is Pollen?  Sounds like Pole-men.  And she’s a girl.”

Luka wanted to smack his forehead.  Symphony gave him a sympathetic pat.

“Well.  Have fun with Cheeto, I guess.”  He sighed.  “I’m going to go get some sleep.  You’ve got my Holo Caster number.”

“Wait!”  XY jogged after him, cradling Cheeto close to his chest.  “I didn’t get to say—thanks, man.”

Luka looked back over his shoulder, surprised.  “No problem.  This is better than stealing gym badges, right?”

“A lot better.”  He looked down at his new Pokémon fondly.  “Uh, sorry about that, by the way.  I—I’m gonna make it up to you.”

“Yeah?”  He raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah!  I’m gonna—take you to the hotel I’m staying at!  So you don’t look homeless!”  XY grabbed him by the arm and started dragging him back towards the city.

“I literally told you I live in town…?”

“Then why were you sleeping in the Pokémon Center like a hobo?”  XY smirked.  Symphony laughed where she was lumbering after them.

You’ve turned my own Pokémon against me.  Luka scowled.

“Didn’t feel like dealing with my mom,” he said under his breath.  

It was stupid, running away just because he’d finally found out about his dad.  His whole band was here. Including his sister.  Lumiose was a big city, but he couldn’t play guitar for Kitty Section and dodge his parents at the same time.

“Perfect!  There’s no moms allowed in my hotel room!”  XY beamed.

If staying out was stupid, then even considering XY’s offer was downright moronic.  XY had tried to rob him just hours ago.

But the dude was rich.  Luka didn’t have anything else he could want.  And whatever hotel room they ended up in was bound to have a more comfortable couch than the Pokémon Center’s.

“...Alright,” he finally agreed.

XY’s holler of joy could probably be heard in the next route over.

“Sweet!  Bro co-parenting slumber party, here we come!”

Luka let Symphony laugh at him.  He deserved it for ending up in such a ridiculous situation.

But somehow, he felt better anyway.

[witchofinterest]

1. But it would’ve been fun, if you would’ve been the one for the non endgame ship of your choice?

so old, but thank you!!! s4 is coming soon! a look into what it probably holds for them.

“God, this all-valley training is kicking my ass,” Demetri complained, throwing his feet across Angie’s lap. She patted his ankle.

“Oh cause that’s hard,” Miguel said, taking a sip from his solo cup. Angie let out a laugh, covering her mouth. Demetri glared at her and patted his leg again.

“You guys know you don’t have to act like a couple anymore, right?” Sam asked, taking a seat on the edge of Miguel’s chair.

“Are we?” Angie asked, making eye contact with Demetri, who shrugged.

“She didn’t do any of that when we were dating,” Hawk interjected, reminding everyone he was there.

“Right, I forgot about that,” Miguel said, snapping his fingers.

“How?” Sam asked.

“Honestly I completely forgot about the time when Angie didn’t like karate,” Miguel admitted, throwing his empty cup at trash can in the corner of the room and completely missing.

“Wow, so the entire beginning of our friendship? Gone?” Angie pretended to be upset, badly.

“Bold words from the girl who pretended she never met me,” Hawk grumbled, just loudly enough for everyone to hear.

At his words Angie tapped Demetri’s ankle and he got off.

“Want another drink Miguel?” she asked, standing up and fixing her shirt.

“Yeah, another one please?” he asked. Angie nodded and rushed into the kitchen. She went through the bottles lined up, looking for the red label Miguel had sipped straight from earlier.

A weight pressed against her back and the red bottle was in front of her. He backed off and she turned around to find Hawk. Without saying a word she turned around and began pouring. Stopping randomly she decided it was okay, and stoppered it.

“Can, um, can we talk?” he asked, in a way so reminiscent of Eli that she was convinced if she turned around it would be just like before. When she did, he was still Hawk. Well, that wasn’t right. He still had the new haircut and clothes but he had lost the newfound confidence. Though, if the previous conversation was anything to go by, he hadn’t lost his anger or his need to be right, even when he wasn’t.

“Here?” she asked, looking into the living room. She could only see Demetri, spread out on the couch and pretending not to listen, but she had a feeling they all were.

He motioned to the door and she nodded. He opened it and she walked through, not before setting down Miguel’s drink on the counter.

It was a noticeable change in temperature, a few degrees colder. There were still a few patio chairs out in Sam’s backyard and the pool had a tarp over it. They milled anxiously, listening to all the sounds of the block.

“Who are you?” she blurted out, tired of the cold and silence.

“I-what?” he said, confusion written on his face.

“Who are you? Cause I really thought I knew the first time, and then you got the haircut and the new attitude and then I accepted that and then you started being awful and I-I got used to that and now I just have no clue who you are and your not helping,” she ended her tangent and broke eye contact. She thought back to Miguel’s solo cup and wished she’d kept it.

“I guess I haven’t really been fair to you, at all. When we first started dating I was so scared you were gonna leave for someone else, someone less me, and that made me act like a jerk. A real jerk,” Hawk said.

“And you couldn’t say any of this to me when we were dating? Or even close after? You had options and you chose to be an even bigger jerk. It wasn’t even aimed at me till we broke up, how am I supposed to actually believe you care about me when you showed me exactly what you think of me?” she said. Her mind went back to all of her post breakup memories.

“I know that was bad-“ he was abruptly cut off.

“Bad? Bad? You got to immediately move on, forbade anyone from even looking in my direction so I couldn’t, and then shamed me for fake-dating Demetri! That’s not even counting anything you put me through during our relationship. And what, I’m supposed to forgive all of that? What, because now your sorry? God I knew you were insecure but …” Angie fizzled out, holding her breathe so she wouldn’t say anything else.

“Are you done?” he asked, trying very hard to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

Taking a deep breathe she said “Yeah, you can talk now,” she wanted to kick herself for the way she phrased it. She settled for just looking at him. He looked fairly scared and it registered that she caused that. She scared him.

“I shouldn’t have done any of that, and I know no amount of I’m sorry’s is going to make up for that, so I’m being better. I quit cobra kai, I made up with Demetri, I even owned up to my parents about my tattoo. I-I’m trying to be a guy deserving of your love, because I love you,” he finished, taking a hold of her hand.

“I’m sorry, have I ever told you that?” she squeaked. She laced her fingers through his but didn’t hold on as tight.

“Demetri did, during the soccer game,” he said, giving her hand a squeeze. It brought her back to reality and she gently tugged her hand away.

“Look, it would’ve been fun if you would’ve been the one, but I’m not in love with you anymore. I think you being better is good, but it should be for yourself not me,” she squeezed his arm lightly, then took her hand back.

Hawk thought of several things to say. That he would make it up to her. That he would go back to being Eli. That he would never disappoint her again. He got to say none of them.

“Where is my drink McGowen?” Miguel yelled.

“I should get that. You shouldn’t stay out here, it’s cold,” she said, tapping the railing.

Walking back inside, Angie found herself warm again. Grabbing the abandoned solo cup, she walked back inside. As soon as she was in front of Miguel, she took a sip.

“God that’s disgusting, how do you drink that?” she asked, handing to over.

“Quickly,” he answered, taking a long swig.

“So, you guys were out there a while,” Sam started, leaned forward to the edge of her seat.

“Not a chance LaRusso,” Angie said, collapsing on her end of the couch. Demetri pulled her leg up and patted her ankle. She rolled her eyes and then shut them, relaxing.

[greedentstripes]

Lucifer@John: You're not fooling anyone, you know. Maybe the stupid ones, I'll give you that. It's obvious you're too young to be a retired... er... 'man'. Regardless, I know what old is. Trust me. You're looking at it. So spill the beans. What are you trying to hide.

(John) I have no idea what you’re--

(Shelly growls at John) John. Enough. I already know. Nick already knows about the accident. He found out about it the moment it happened.

*** Imagine the sound of a lock shattering and chains rattling as John's reality comes shattering around him.

(Shelly frowned) You can't lie about it to everyone forever. You aren't old. You're partially paralyzed.

(John held his head) Ugh, fine. You win. I’m scared to talk about it though... what kind of a mid-to-late 40s can’t hold their own balance? I WAS HOPING TO HAVE TO DEAL WITH THAT IN MY 60S AT THE LEAST! (John starts sobbing) Now look at me! I'm a [gumshoos cry censor bleep] paraplegic!

(Shelly hugs John tightly with a downtrodden expression of concern) We’re getting through this. He only knows about what happened, he doesn’t know much else of it though.

(John, between sobs) I know...but...sniff...I-I’m too ashamed to admit--

(Shelly) Be glad it wasn't any worse. You can still kind of walk.

(John, still sobbing) “Kind of walking” doesn't fix the fact that I can’t work anymore!

(Shelly) You can too work. Oh uh sorry Mr. Lucifer, this is kind of a sensitive topic for John. Do you mind sitting down? This might be a little while. Let's give John some time to unwind first.

Memory unlocked: John's Accident

* A few minutes passed. Shelly returned from the minikitchen within their upstairs bedroom with a hot cup of tea, with some tamato flakes to help him ease up. John took the tea and drunk from it. After a while, John spoke up, the sob in his voice gone.

(John) Shelly...do you mind telling our guest the truth? I’m still ashamed of myself for holding it from my son for so long. I don't want to slip into another lie.

(Shelly rolled her eyes at that last remark) Fine...ugh. Lucifer, the truth is my husband suffered a slip and fall accident some time around last year. When you’re working janitorial, you tend to be around a lot of water. You can't get careless. But, well, while John was filling up water in his bucket, just as he left the bathroom, he didn't realize someone had mopped up the bathroom before he got there, a rookie who went off their route. And as he was carrying the water bucket, his legs shot out in front of him and he ... uhh... what was it again?

(John) I smacked my head against the door, and as I blacked out, i slipped a disc near my tailbone by landing on my tail funny, at least, that's what the doctors said.

(Shelly continued to recall her memories) A witness at the school say he was probably like that for a good 30 minutes to an hour before someone went to the bathroom and found him like that. He couldn't brace for impact on the account of the concussion, so the damage to the spine was so bad that it cut off the nerve endings to his legs and tail. By the time they had fixed the vertebrae. They thought he would've been paralyzed, but were surprised to realize his legs were still ambulatory. He just couldn't stand up on them properly cuz they felt like "ghost limbs" to him. As a result, after the matter, they had to train him how to walk without feeling in his legs, and he was originally using a supporting walker, but eventually he was able to get enough of a hold to walk around with just a cane.

(John sighed) At least I don't have to deal with the pain of stubbing my toe or bashing my knee on a counter, but...it still sucks knowing I can't do a lot of the things I used to love. I loved working. The people at work were my friends. A lot of the staff loved me.

(Shelly) They still love you. You're always invited to their social gatherings. You just don't go because you're so ashamed to let them see you this way.

(John) Y-yeah...

(Shelly looked at John with a look of promise) John, dear. You're no less of a man for what happened. And if you love working so much, you can always go and get a job where you're allowed to sit down and be helpful.

(John nodded) I know...anyways Lucifer, that's the story. My legs only sort of work, and I can't push a mop around anymore. If only I could float around like the likes of you, I could go back to that job and go back to doing what I love: keeping this family afloat with money i made with my own paws...instead of these stupid government issued disability checks.

(Shelly) It's still money. The money's going toward helping us keep afloat.

(John) And as for why isn't our son in school? What's the real reason? We may as well satisfy that one anon's question at that.

(Shelly) He hated it there. The workloads were getting too hard for him to bear, and he was becoming more defeatist by the year. And high school was one of the worst times in my life, so if I could homeschool him from here, I'd take that alternative over making my son endure "prison" again. I'm not going to send him to secondary school if it means our son is miserable. And he likes helping you out. You're an important role model to him. He knows you were a strong man of society, and he's even as much as told me that you're still the strong man around this place. I'd rather he continue to believe that we "can't afford school", it's a better alternative to saying "Surprise! You're a dropout now!"

(John nodded slowly) I guess...erm, sorry you had to hear our little tangent sir. Oh, and uhh, if @tallgrassghosts is reading this, I'm sorry I lied to you Altrii. About the cane? All this, is the real reason I'm using a walking cane. N

[allandoflimbo]

Take It Back (Chapter 19)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary:  About five years ago, a one night stand with Y/N tore Bucky’s life apart. It was also the night before his wedding. Now he’s married to her sister and she needs a place to stay.

Chapter Warnings: Language.

A/N: Over my manic episode lol, now back to work. :) Here you guys go. Sorry it took so long to get my shit together. I love you. ALSO, i know a lot of you guys caught up with it on AO3, so just let me know if you no longer wanna be tagged in this. :) 

MASTERPAGE |

It had become routinary.

Like an immortal soul or a person without any malice and without non-malice intent, you’d carry on and on.

You’d wake up at five-thirty am, take a hot shower, go for a run, take another shower, get dressed for work, stop by your choice of restaurant that week, pick up cat food, feed Pebbles, clean the house, take another shower, put on your PJs, and binge-watch American Horror Story until it was too late to decide if it was actually too late to go to bed.

It took exactly one week into your emotional break down for you to realize that your life had to be this way in order for you to succeed. It was the only way you could keep yourself distracted from the other thoughts of guilt that would lead to ultimate heartbreak.

You had left Ashlyn’s life in a way that you didn’t see yourself doing.

At first, you felt wrong for it.

She was your only sister and the only closest family member you had left. You especially thought it was wrong for leaving without any explanation. But eventually, after much-considered thought, you decided that even though it was wrong, it was the best choice. It was something you had to do.

You had to do it because it would be wrong of you to hang out with her or have some kind of association with her without her knowing the evil thing that you had done behind her back.

It didn’t sit well with you.

You also realized that if you stuck around, you would probably develop some kind of hate for her that would be beyond your control; hate made out of jealousy and envy.

You wouldn’t be able to see them together ever again, you would not bring yourself to.

You had texted her a few days after your decision, explaining to her that new opportunities had arisen in your life and that you might be seeing less of her because of it.

Though you still reassured her that you would continue to stick around if she needed anything and she reciprocated vice versa.

As much as you disliked her, as much as you didn’t like the choices she’s made, or person that she had become, at the end of the day she was always your big sister. That was a kind of bond you couldn’t break.

After she’d wished you good look and good wishes, you wondered if you should contact Bucky.

You wondered if he would tell her.

That was the first time the thought entered your mind and it scared the shit out of you. You prayed that he wouldn’t say a thing.

You thought about Steve as well. You knew he wasn’t dumb but you were thankful that he never mentioned anything both that night. But for some reason, you couldn’t get that damn look he had on his face. You couldn’t forget the way he looked at you at the wedding.

He had chased you, and he looked hurt by you.

Like he knew.

Sometimes you wonder if maybe if it had been Bucky that had run after you if you would have stayed.

But it wasn’t.

After that conclusion, you begged yourself to move on.

That was when the routines began- it kept you busy and distracted.

It had been five months and two days since you walked out of his life.

After much time, it was going a lot better than how you thought it would. You started by distracting yourself with your own life.

You even picked up extra hours at work and spent endless nights learning new recipes.

You wouldn’t admit it out loud, but you ended up watching way too much of the news. Maybe it was the adult in your trying to peak out, or maybe you were just that desperate to get away from your own issues.

You and pebbles sat on your couch as you both mocked Trump’s face on CNN, softly caressing Pebble’s little black head.

Your sat on your legs, your little throw blanket thrown over your lap and Pebbles next to your feet on the couch.

You shook your head in dismay as yet another scandal unfolded itself.

“What a dumbass, Peb.”

Meow.

You gasp.

“What do you mean you would have voted for him?”

Meow. Prrrr.

You huff.

“That’s what I thought, you little nugget.”

Everything during the day got easier as time went by, including life.

Slowly, you had cut yourself out of everyone’s lives.

You didn’t want to, but you felt like it was the best choice in such a predicament.

You didn’t answer Steve’s calls.  

Bucky never even attempted to reach out to you except for one night about a week ago.

You had stared at your phone in a trance, completely puzzled at first, before tossing it on your couch.

You went back to sliding on your sneakers for your daily run.

No.

You ran your emotions away until the sweat mingled in with your tears.

You didn’t even realize it started pouring until you had to stop on the side of the road, breathing hard as you attempted to catch your breath.

You let your head fall down as your hands rested on the knees of your bent legs. You sobbed relentlessly as the thunder clashed in the skies above you.

The overwhelming guilt consumed you.

You had done good, you did everything you could to distract yourself and to not think about him.

But during the nights it was the hardest.

Simply put: you were lonely.

You missed your friends, Steve, and Nat. You wanted to make peace with Steve, you wanted to tell Nat how sorry you were for being a coward, and most importantly, you missed him.

You’d wake up the next day and repeat it all again.

It was the only thing that helped.

_

The beginning months of their marriage had been rocky.

It had gone in any way you would’ve expected for a man who had just cheated on his wife.

Their wedding night had been a disaster.

When they returned to their room that night, in a mix of tight hand-holding and severe lack of eye contact, Bucky had allowed Ashlyn to go into their suite before him.

While inside, he sat on the bed, back faced to her, and he had been silent as he unbuttoned his dress shirt.

Ashlyn had stared at him, even though he couldn’t see her.

The silence had been unbearable.

She felt pain-filled tears in her eyes at his cold demeanor.

He was treating her not how a husband should, especially on their wedding night.

He was treating her like something was very wrong.

She didn’t understand why.

Their ceremony had been everything she had ever dreamed of, but during the reception, he had barely stared into her eyes. He didn’t look at her during their dance, and only once or twice after that.

They made brief eye contact once when his eyes had been cold and soulless. In an instance, a part of her heart hurt badly within her chest.

What’s wrong?  She had wanted to say.

She wasn’t too oblivious. She knew that months ago something had happened with him and someone else, especially after she had been gone for so long on her work trips. She knew that they had gone through a big bump in the road.

And the guilt of that had eaten her alive and she promised to put it behind her, so she continued to strive for them - to make this work. Ashlyn wasn’t sure exactly what Bucky had done, but like a silent mutual agreement, neither touched the subject any further.

For some time, she had even believed maybe she was wrong because they started doing so well again.

But their wedding day and their wedding night went anything but well.

She had gone into their bathroom and slowly taken off her jewelry and dress. Soft tears ran down her face as she took the hundreds of bobby pins out of her hair, laying them down on the sink with shaky fingers.

She had refused to look at herself in the mirror, knowing that she’d start crying right away.

She slid on a pair of matching pink silk PJ shorts and a tank top.

Neither said a word as she slid up next to him on the bed.

It didn’t surprise her that he didn’t even make love to her that night.

It took time, but eventually, he had gathered her in his arms, caressing the sides of her waist as she breathed against him.

Her lingerie was tucked away and left untouched in her suitcase.

They didn’t talk about it, and Ashlyn swallowed back heavy tears as he laid motionless without saying a word.

It took them hours to fall asleep that night.

Early that morning they took their flight out to Mykonos.

He held her hand the entire flight, occasionally giving her a small smile that never reached his pretty blue eyes.

A pair of eyes that ones use to shy but were now a pit of no emotions.

Ashlyn tried to hold back more tears as he laid his head against the window, staring down at the puffy clouds and not at her.

She regretted it- the nightly escapades -what she had done with men on her work trips, what she had sacrificed to give them.

Their future was now filled with materialist fortune because of her filthy mistakes, and she most importantly regretted what she had done with his father.

She wanted them to be okay.

She wanted him to love her the way he used to.

She sniffed slightly as her throat grew tight. She laid her head on his shoulder.

The heavyweight of her head made Bucky look down at his lap, closing his eyes tightly together.

He felt awful.

Sure, he didn’t want Ashlyn anymore, but something just didn’t sit well with him knowing what he did and Ashlyn knowing damn well that he was acting strange.

On their honeymoon, when they did talk they argued.

They had gone to a little restaurant in a bay area but barely spoke a word to each other.

The air was tense and his kisses only lingered like a tangent poison on her lips.

Every night he had woken up shaking and sweating. He always dreamed of you and your gorgeous smile.

He could hear you saying his name in his dreams, and he could feel the bones of your hips on his hands as he guided you to move above him.

Then, he would hear you tell him you loved him and he would start crying in his sleep.

They were never loud enough to wake Ashlyn up, but it was strong enough to make him stir and awaken.

They didn’t make love until the night before they flew out.

It had been spontaneous and Bucky had done it more out of anger and stress after he had seen something in a gift shop that reminded him of you.

He had whimpered against Ashlyn's mouth as he held her against the wall of their little bedroom. It was a small room, about thirty by forty feet because they had wanted the trip to be as authentic as possible.

His hands helped to wrap her legs around his waist and he grabbed her harshly, forcing his tongue down her throat.

He shoved her beneath him onto their bed as they ripped each other’s clothes off.

Next, he had taken her brutally against the mattress.

Afterward, Ashlyn had been stunned.

He had never fucked her that way before. It had been purely carnal, dirty.

She laid shaking that entire night.

He woke up again that dawn, having dreamed of you again.

He knew he needed help, he knew that the guilt was eating him alive and so was the sadness of losing you.

Four five months, their marriage has been silently suffering and grew complicated. The other wondered how long it would be before one of them said something to make or break it.

They moved into Bucky’s father’s penthouse shortly after.

It was beautiful. It wasn’t as big as Ashlyn would have expected, and Bucky also had sworn it used to be bigger when he used to live with his parents. It had an average size foyer that would lead into the living room. The wood flooring was light and contrasted beautifully with the white walls. To the right was a large window that occupied most of the wall, and to the far side was a decent sized kitchen with dark brown cabinetry. Down the hall was a guest bedroom and a powder room.

On the left side was a dining room and then to the corner glass stairs that led up to the upstairs area where there were three other bedrooms, one full bathroom and a master bathroom that connected to the master bedroom.

The mere thought that Bucky was now sleeping in the same bedroom that his now-dead parents used, made something creep up his spine - a cold and chilling feeling.

It didn’t help their marriage and it certain didn’t help with the other emotions he had felt.

They would eat dinner in silence and then they would have silent meaningless sex on their dinner table in a tangle of confusion and unspoken declarations.

It got to the point where Ashlyn had left for work every morning without even waiting for him anymore.

She would feel used and empty, the bruises on her hips nagging and mocking her for the rest of the day.

Ashlyn considered just asking Bucky what was going on.

She wanted to, but she was afraid.

It had been going on for five months.

It’s a Tuesday morning when Bucky was having breakfast by himself in the kitchen. He hears a knock on his door.

He looked up from his phone, where he had been reading today’s news.

He perks a brow, not expecting anyone to have been at his home at this time. He hadn’t even seen Steve since his wedding day, their little awkward encounter not yet having been addressed.

It was evident neither wanted to.

“Come in.” He said loudly through a mouth full of honey nut cheerios.

The big white door swung open.

Bucky was slightly scared at who the intruder was until he saw a big head of red pop out from behind the door.

A long sigh escapes his lips.

The beauty spins her head around and gives him a bright smile, closing the door behind her.

She perks a brow.

“You didn’t comb your hair today, I see.”

Bucky runs a quick hand through his hair as he swallows down the cereal.

“What gives? My house, I can do I want.” He mumbles swirling his spoon in his milk.

He peaks a teasing eye up at Nat and smirks.

“Yeah, I can see that.” She laughs.

“What’s up?”

“How are things with you and Ashlyn?”

Bucky stalls for a moment, swirling his milk one more time, before responding.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing, I’ve just noticed that you’ve been a bit different the last few months,” Nat states simply.

Bucky sighs, looking out towards the kitchen window and out into the city.

He gives into himself and sighs.

“It’s been better, Nat. Marriage isn’t as easy as we’d hope I guess.” He mumbles the end as he takes the bowl off the island and turns around to put it in the sink.

Nat sighs, “Yeah, I can imagine. Why do you think I haven’t gotten married yet?”

Bucky chuckles, “You’re right. You’re smart.”

There’s a small smile on his face when he says it as he spins back around, but Nat senses the pleading tone in his voice and both of them are quiet.

Nat eyes him up and down before she reaches into her bag.

Bucky narrows his eyes at her.

“Just know that if there’s anything you need, you can just ask me. If you need a friend, advice, anything. If you guys need any help-”

“Thanks, but we’re fine.” He cuts off curtly but not in a rude manner.

Nat ignores him and pulls out a white card and slides it across the table.

“Please don’t take this as an insult or me trying to pry or anything like that, because it’s none of my business. But I think this might help you both.”

Bucky takes the card.

Couple’s Therapist

Bruce Banner

34 6th Street

New York, NY

(212)***-****

Bucky looks at it for a second.

He contemplates it, really contemplates it, and he finds the gesture comforting and surprisingly sweet.

He bends the edge of it as he reads the name of the doctor repeatedly- over and over again.

“Thanks.”

Bucky could care less any longer about salvaging his wedding with Ashlyn. He should’ve known it was all an evil scheme for her since the beginning, so he was doing this for his own selfish needs.

Bucky wants nothing more than to rip his hand out of hers as they sit next to each other on the dark brown leather chairs. He hopes the good doctor doesn’t see right through his phony act.

Dr. Banner was soft-spoken and wore small glasses on the peak of his nose. He gave off a sweet soul that automatically piqued Bucky’s interest. From his first firm handshake, he knew that Banner would be someone he could trust.

Bruce gave the beautiful couple a small smile before sitting down directly in front of him.

The room smelled of aloe and mint, calming Ashlyn for the first time in a long time.

“Mr. And Mrs. Barnes please sit.”

“Thanks.” Both Bucky and Ashlyn said.

Bruce takes off his glasses and eyes the couple curiously.

“So let’s start by introducing ourselves. You just got married five months ago?”

“Yes. Sir.”

He lays his glasses down on the table in front of him.

“That’s very recent. I’m surprised.”

Ashlyn gives Bucky a side glance as Bucky continues to hold steady eye contact with Banner.

“Yes, we’ve had some issues in the past.”

Bucky’s jaw ticks.

Bruce notes this.

“Well, we’re going to discuss possible issues that maybe could’ve arisen and insecurities between the both of you. This will be a long process, but I will do in my best ability to help you both. We’re going to put all our walls down for this, do you understand? No secrets from me.”

Bucky swallows while Ashlyn nods. She looks once more at him and Bucky is still facing forward, jaw tight and tense.

“You see? He can’t even look at me.”

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Do you not love me anymore?”

Bucky doesn’t respond.

“Do you want a divorce? We’ve been married for five months. You didn’t even have sex with me on our wedding night.”

Banner raises a comical brow at this.

“I can’t leave you.”

Bucky says fiercely. The silence that follows it is tense and questioning.

“So we need to make this work,” Ashlyn says, quickly letting go of his hand.

Their first session with Banner was an hour and five minutes long. It was the most the couple had talked to each other since their wedding day, and it solved absolutely nothing.

Dr. Banner sighed as he watched them walk away, not really knowing what the hell he was going to do with them.

He was just thankful that they were done screaming so he could take his small coffee break and read a bit.

Of course, that was cut short when he heard a small knock coming from his door.

“Yes?”

Bucky walks in slowly, a mischievous look in his eyes as he slowly closing the door behind him.

Banner raises a surprised brow at him.

“James? Something wrong?”

Bucky licks his lips nervously.

“N-no sir, I just…”

Well, this was interesting, Banner had to admit. He sits down on his desk, still keeping one foot on the floor.

He notices how upset and nervous Bucky is and it’s the first sign of emotion he had shown aside from anger all day. It intrigues the doctor.

“You can tell me.”

“If I ask to see you privately, as my therapist, would what me and you talk about be confidential?”

Bruce is silent for a second as he connects the dots. He notes Bucky’s fidgeting hands and his pleading eyes.

Something was killing the poor kid.

“Is there something you don’t want Ashlyn to know?”

“Yes.” It comes out in a whimper. His tone, begging.

“James, if whatever this has to do with your marriage, you should tell your wife. You're here to fix your relationship with her, but yet you want my help to help keep something hidden from her.”

Bucky is silent as he looks away, defeated. This stuns the doctor.

“You’re not here for your marriage.” Bruce says it like it’s not questionable, “you’re here for you.”

Bucky’s stance and tone become pleading as he steps closer to Banner.

“It has more to do with my health though. Look, I know it doesn’t make sense but I need help, please. I’ll pay you twice or ever three times as much. As much as you want. Please, doctor Banner.”

Bruce didn’t like this, but for some reason, he figured that maybe if he helped Bucky with his private issue, it could eventually fix the problem he had with his wife.

Maybe.

He regrets it a bit after he says it, but he does.

“Alright, I’ll help you.”

You had another episode last night and it was worse than usual.

You swore you could feel his soft hands on your hips as you moved on top of him.

You felt the whispers of his voice against your ears as he kept telling you he loved you, and it felt so real.

You were a ghost when you woke up, and your body robotic. The sun wasn’t up yet so you turned on your side lamp on your nightstand since it wasn’t too bright and wouldn’t hurt your eyes.

It took you a bit for you to come to your senses and for you to notice that you had gathered your personal belongings on your bed and that you were throwing things out.

Things that reminded you of Ashlyn. Pictures of when you were kids, T-shirts, gifts she had given you - everything.

Tears ran down your face as you skim your finger over one specific picture of you and your sister with your parents.

You sobbed and your sadness became anger as you continued to stare at her in the picture.

How dare she get the loving man, how dare he love her more than you…you were angry.

And you wanted to move on.

In a fury, you rip the pictures into tiny pieces until they’re scattered all over your bed.

Your breathing is shallow and heavy as you look at the mess you’ve made.

With a different kind of pain that you hadn’t felt in a long time, you bury your face in your hands and cry silently.

Everything around you was silent. The house was silent and so was the world outside.

You were alone.

Fifteen miles away sat Steve in his work office at Barnes Enterprises.

He had just put his two-week notice in and he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

He couldn’t stand to work for Bucky right now, not after the wedding night and not knowing anything about what was happening.

It distracted him too much and it made him upset.

He’d gotten a new job at a new company five blocks down. Steve had requested two weeks from his top guy so he didn’t even have to talk to Bucky directly to let him know he was leaving.

He was almost entirely packed except for some things that he still had to finish before he left.

It was early morning and he was finishing up one of his files when the image of you clouded his mind.

The image of you running out of his best friend’s wedding and crying haunted him.

He needed to find you.

That’s when he had stopped doing what he was doing and he pulled out his phone.

He found your name without thinking and clicked the little phone icon under your name.

Steve lets out a heavy breath as he brings his phone to his ear. With his other hand, he runs it through his hair and pulls slightly at the top.

ring.

ring.

Come on. Come on.  He says in his head as he bounces his left leg up and down. What was he even going to say?

The ring cuts off and he sucks in a breath-

“I’m sorry but the number you are trying to reach is no longer in service.”

His heart falls into the pit of his stomach.

In your room, you had somehow fallen asleep through all your crying, and your phone laid silent and untouched on your nightstand.

__

Chapter 20 |

@wxntersoldxer16​ @void-imaginations​ @heykarsyn​ @avashroom​ @sarcastic-and-cool​ @lunaticbarnes​ @benhardygalileo​ @wildmavs​ @runaway-escape​ @stevieboyharrington​ @kimvmarvel​ 

[razorblade180]

Shackles pt8: Everything

Part 7 <-

Black, pitch black. That’s all Blake could see around her as her body writhed on the coarse ground. What happened? Where was she? Those were the only major questions coming to the forefront of her pounding head until suddenly, her entire body jerked forward. Blake’s eyes opened as she gasped for air as if she was drowning. It was only at the sight of black smoke and blistering flames around her did the haze become clear. A bomb went off. A bomb near Yang and Jacquelyn.

Blake stumbled to her feet, dizzy from the blast. Somehow that was the only major impact. “Yang!!!?” She yelled painfully. “Jac- cough couch. Jacquelyn!!!?” Blake tried to take a step but her legs weren’t having it. They gave out immediately; it was only by the grace of familiar shrine garb that Black didn’t fall back to the ground. “Jacquelyn!?” Blake groaned. The maiden’s eyes glowed purple with magical power as she breathed heavily. She looked a little less worse than Blake. “How….”

“I...shot flames around us and the blast.” Jacquelyn huffed. Her body finally fell onto her knees with Blake leaning on her back. “It diverted the flames, but the impact was far too much. Especially how I am now.” Jacquelyn rubbed her stomach with concern. Hopefully the baby was just fine. Blake rolled off of her back and to the ground. If Jacquelyn hadn’t tried to protect her, Blake was positive that would’ve been the end. Yang however, she wasn’t near them. That alone made Blake feel dead inside.

She found the strength to get back on her hands and knees. The house was completely blown apart with rubble everywhere, but no sign of the blonde bruiser. “Yang…?” Blake said, her voice quivering in fear. That fear gave way when nobody responded. “YANG!!!!! WHERE ARE YOU!?”

The ground started to rumble before a pile of debris shot into the air. “Right...here!” Yang growled, climbing out of hole with Adam’s sword. Her hair blazed like an intense bonfire while her eyes raged red. She saw Blake struggling on the ground with Jacquelyn trying to stand. Yang stormed over to her and yanked her collar tightly. If it wasn’t for the smoke, Yang would’ve screamed until her lungs collapsed. “Care to explain why the fuck a bomb was in your house?”The anger came clearly through her teeth. Her grip immediately began to loosen by the pain of electricity. Yang wasn’t the only one in a fowl mood.

Jacquelyn grabbed the women’s wrist with charged hands. “If you’re delusional enough to still think this is some kinda trick then you got another thing-is...where did you get the sword?”

“Inside your house. Where else!?” Jacquelyn’s grip finally gave way and Yang backed off. “It’s the whole reason you don’t have a home now! It was sticking out behind a bed frame. I went to grab it and it had fucking trip wire on it! Didn’t you check his room!?”

A tint of red came over Jacquelyn. “That’s not his room. It was just a spare. We...we don’t sleep separately.” The look of judgement on her wasn’t an easy pill to swallow. Divulging that information didn’t exactly help her case in trying to be an unbiased member of this group. Jacquelyn reached for the blade but Yang pulled it away. “Ugh, listen, do you really think if I knew something about this then I’d willing be in the explosion and let someone else trip the bomb? Blake’s friends-” both frustrated women turned to look at the girl in question. They had been so busy being angry that they ignored the fact Blake was still trying to recover. Jacquelyn tried making the first move but Yang stepped ahead and carefully hit Blake on her feet, supporting her weight.

“You hurt?”

“Just winded. Jacquelyn bailed me out.” Blake was quick to add. No need for the situation to get any worse. “Like it or not, she’s with us Yang. As for who rigged that bomb, Adam didn’t do it.” Her claim was met with skepticism from her partner and shock from Jacquelyn. Blake grabbed Adam’s sword and held it close. Despite the smoke and ashes, a scent is a scent; nothing changed that. Especially one reeking of dust and blood, lots of blood. “This sword, the entire house itself smelled different from how it looked.”

“And….what would that be?” Jacquelyn asked. She watched Blake’s hand tremble as her claws dug a little the sheath.

“A slaughter house…” The explosion did more damage than Blake realized. Her body betrayed her will to go. As much as she wanted to continue, the only place she was going right now was back on the ground; the sound of her friends calling her name became muffled until silence. Blake felt all tension in her fade away, blacking out on the on the spot.

xxxx

THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! The continuous sound of faunus falling to ground as their wrecked bodies gave into fatigue echoed through the cavern walls. The only thing louder was the guards frustration towards Adam’s reluctance to break. Jasmine hobbled down below, her eyes fixated on the man gritting his teeth as a whip cracked against his back and a blade glided along the flesh of his abdomen. Even from here, Jasmine could see Adam’s nails scratch his chains to stave off the urge to lash out.

They’re still at it…” Her brother lightly pushed her to keep moving. Too much slacking wouldn’t be good for them, yet she still couldn’t help but watch as she walked. “He’s really something else huh?”

“Yeah, a real fool.” Rajah said, his tone bitter and angry. “Maybe if he yelled then we’d get shown a little mercy.”

“Why would you want him to yell?”

“He’s the reason we’re here in the first place. If he didn’t fill mom and dad’s head with fighting then we wouldn’t be here right now.”

Jasmine slowed her walking. Her ears folded down and thought about her brother’s words. “Yeah...I guess you’re right.” Her gaze went back to Adam, the source of everything. It was a strange thing, her feelings. Anytime Jasmine looked at the guards, the tired prisoners, her frightened brother, the bodies; anger swelled deep inside her like an inferno. Not with Adam though. Despite the blame being on him, she just sorta felt...indifferent. Was it their conversation, or the fact Sobek personally hated him that made Jasmine like him on some surface level? She couldn’t tell the difference. All she could tell was the man named Adam Taurus was being beaten like the rest. Like herself. What good did that do?

Adam coughed up blood and wheezed heavily. How long was his session this time? Maybe an hour? Counting stopped numbing the pain at least three sessions ago. The guards finally gave him some space again. “Break time already?” He groaned with his head held down. A piece of him wanted to thank his past for giving him the experience to endure this. Then again, it was the same past that put him in the predicament. That’s what he wanted to believe anyways. Jackie would hit him on the head and go off on a tangent about choosing your actions. A tiny smile snook onto his face. He liked her over the top speeches.

A hand slowly appeared under his chin and lifted his head. “What are you so happy about?” Said Sobek.

The feel of his calloused hands against normal skin unnerved Adam, and that’s saying something. Ripping off scales couldn’t be healthy in any way, but nothing Sobek did suggested a healthy state of being. “If you think this is a smile then you’re sicker than I thought.” Adam retorted.

“Predictable response.”

“And yet you still asked. Cut to the chase already. Is this another attempt at a speech or a display of power?”

Sobek smirked, “nothing so repetitive. I just thought the monster would like to know the den we found you in is gone. Our spring trap was sprung. How unfortunate for you.”

Adam couldn’t hide his look of concern. Sobek paced around. “Care to tell me who in their right mind would be in that house? They must’ve showed up looking for you.”

“Your dead family.” Adam didn’t even get the chance to blink before Sobek backhanded him for that answer.

“I should just cut you into pieces and be done with it!” Sobek’s grip on Adam’s lower jaw tightened.

The taste of iron became heavier in his mouth. A look at bloodshot eyes and a nasty snarl proved that Sobek was still a faunus no matter his delusional claims. “Tsk, and I’m the monster?”

“Like you have any ground to stand on. You and I are not the same.”

“Oh I know, and so do they.” Adam nudged his head toward the people below. There wasn’t an eye that wasn’t on the vicious doctor and terrorist. Those who looked at Adam weren’t thinking of the man himself, but staring at the injuries. The same couldn’t be said for Sobek. Looks of fear, anger, shock, judgement; it was aimed right at him. Even his men were put off a little.

“WHAT ARE YOU ALL LOOKING AT!?” Snarled, not helping his case. “Do you feel sympathy towards this...thing; this good for nothing animal!? He is nothing to shed pity over and certainly nothing close to anything that resembles a leader that you all so blindly followed!!!” Sobek huffed. He couldn’t believe how stubborn Adam was to break. It had been days since he'd arrived. Nonstop torture, day in and day out. It was beginning to be a problem. If Adam stayed stubborn, then they all might. It was for that reason why Sobek had a backup plan.

The crocodile man slicked back his hair, regaining composure, then walked off the platform and up to awning shielded by class. It was where old SDC guards watched over the miners. It was still plenty sturdy, and fully equipped. Minutes went by before Sobek descended from it with a devious smirk. For the first time since arriving, Adam actually felt his blood run cold. In Sobek’s right hand...was a branding iron. The infamous three letters glowing red hot.

“Remember this?” Sobek asked sarcastically. He slowly started to approach Adam, enjoying the sight of him attempting to break his shackles by tugging and jerking the chain link. “Come now, you know that won’t work. You know I think I’ll test a new experiment today. What will hurt more? Branding your good eye, or placing this perfectly over the first scar? Only one way to find out!” Sobek laughed.

Terror and pent up wrath filled Adam to the point guards tried to hold him down, but were met with horns bashing their faces and screams. “I swear, I fucking swear Sobek, death will be the only thing you want after this! P-Monsters like us, we get what we deserve a hundred times over! You and your crew-” a guard finally grabbed him by the hair and slammed his to the ground and held it there.

Was this irony, karma? It had to be. The excessive breathing, crowd, the complete lack of compassion as Adam found himself screaming while men held him down in order to make an example. How could so many years pass by and he still be in the exact same situation? Once again, Adam felt powerless. Deep down a feeling tugged inside of him that was different from last time. Jacquelyn, a person who was no doubt worrying about him. A person he wanted to see. A person he wanted to call out for. However, he did not. Under no circumstances was he gonna give Sobek any information about her. This was his problem, and yet…

“H-elp…” he said, barely above a whisper. Sobek’s boots stopped right in front of him. Adam’s good eye can only see the man towering above him with the brand at the ready. And just like those many years ago, Adam shed tears of fear while letting out a plea into a frightened crowd.

“Somebody, anybody, HEEEEELLLLLP!”

For the first time...a cry was shouted back.

“LEAVE HIM ALONE!!!” Cried the voice of the only one who would dare move, Jasmine. Nobody realized she had climbed the platform. She wasted no time ramming all the strength she could muster into Sobek’s stomach. Her claws dug into his flesh, teeth clamped down. Two things were made clear in that moment to Jasmine. Her animal intensity was a gift, not a disease like Sobek tried to brainwash into people. The other thing she already knew from the start. There’s no way any justice could exist in a place like this. Only one thing makes a place like this. Hate, and she had plenty of that to give. Her claws slashed at Sobek’s fleshy arms and made him drop the branding iron down below to the crowd.

People stepped back as the tool made a loud bang against the ground. Several guards scrambled to retrieve it, but so did one prisoner. Rajah, armed with his pickaxe. His legs had moved on their own and fear ran deep into his heart as he saw his little sister get slammed to the ground. He told her to behave. To keep her calm. Why couldn’t she listen? Why couldn’t he stop running? Had she inspired him to act? No. Deep down he knew exactly why he moved. If that thing reached Sobek again, Adam wouldn’t be the only one branded. His sister, everyone might be. Rajah raised his pickaxe for all to see, then smashed the weapon of their torture.

A deathly echo resonated from the impact into utter silence. Rajah looked up to see the soulless eyes of his captor burrow into his very being, paralyzing his body from pure terror. Not even the force of guards pinning him to the ground snapped him back to reality. What had he done?

Sobek’s teeth snarled like a pure beast. He wrapped his hand around Jasmine’s neck and squeezed. “Clearly I’ve been far too lenient with you. I thought I told you what to expect if you couldn’t behave like a good little girl.” He looked at his men. “Get the boy ready for his correction.”

Rajah felt his heart stop. He frantically tried to escape the grasps of the guards but to know gain. “Hellllp! Let me go!”

“Raja-ahh!” Jasmine could barely cough let alone speak. Her eyes glared immensely at Sobek’s in fury that refused to die.

“This time, I’ll make sure you stay broken.” He slammed her against the ground, knocking her out briefly. He wasted no time dragging her through the doors back to the torture rooms.

Adam pulled at his chains. He had shown fear and it cost him. “Sobek! Leave them out of this!”

“Beat him within an inch of death!” Sobek demanded. “Just an inch.” Sobek’s men didn’t hesitate to start kicking and beating Adam’s body like a drum while their master went to make an example of defiant animals.He looked at the bleeding child in his hand💀 “All you had to do was learn. Now pain will be your teacher.

Adam could only grunt as the mysterious door closed once again.“SOBEK!!!!”

xxxx

Black. Once again, Blake found herself waking up to blinding light. Thankfully, it wasn’t the scorching sun. It was her lamp. Blake laid in her bed, bandaged up. “I’m home? How did-” the door opened and it was Ilia who entered, surprised by her friend’s state.

“You’re awake!”

“And you’re here?” What is- agh!” The side of her ribs ached as Blake tried to sit up. “How’d you get here so fast?”

“I didn’t. Blake you’ve been asleep for a little over a day.” Ilia sat at the edge of the bed. “Sun and I have been here for a couple hours now. Had to make a few stops.”

“Stops? Wait, how are Yang and Jacquelyn!?” Blake’s voice trembled. “Did any grimm attack on the way back? How-”

Ilia covered the girl’s mouth. “Take a breath, they’re okay.” She watched how Blake slowly lost tension in her body from her words. Ilia regretted covering her face though. Blake looked down at her red stained fingers. Knowing Blake, she probably could smell her too. Ilia removed her hand quickly. To know shock, Blake looked concerned.

“Ilia…”

“It’s fine okay? You told me what was happening and I had the means to get answers.” She justified, mainly to herself. “Those thugs were gonna kill me or worse anyways. I won’t lose sleep over it, much.”

Blake took Ilia’s hands and held them close.“Did Sun see?”

Ilia shook her head. “No, not entirely. I kept him out of the room but at the end I… well, disposing them was too much for me alone. His team did it without my input. I’d feel worse about it if I didn’t gain anything of value from it all.” Ilia got off the bed and walked towards a wall. A heavy and irritated sigh came from deep down. “Given what I’ve learned from you and Jacquelyn was it? If our incidents are related, then Adam is actually in Vacou. Underground, in a very old, very unsafe abandoned dust mine.”

Blake hung on every word said. Her gut twisted into knots from this new information and what she had smelled in Jacquelyn’s home. “How many White Fang members are in there?”

Ilia tossed her scroll at Blake. She watched as her face turned pale by what was on it. Dozens of pictures and videos in inferred signatures rising, then falling. Some got added, while others went dark fast. “Sun and I stopped to confirm the location we were told. It took everything I had not run into that place immediately. Blake, they’re just killing us. Regardless of if Adam’s alive or not, we need to-”

“Does Jacquelyn know?” Blake said, finding her voice again. Guilt spread across Ilia’s face. Suddenly, Blake feared the worst. “Where is she?”

“I couldn’t stop her.”

“You let her go!?”

Ilia threw her arms up, equally upset. “Like I had a choice!? You haven’t exactly told me important things, like knowing the winter maiden; Adam being alive and then being connected is another thing! Of all people not to tell, me? You watched me bury an empty casket out of respect for that guy. That shit gets to me!” Ilia began to pace around the room. “You fully know Adam is not this exclusive entity that’s only shaped your life. I had a right to know!”

“I know! I know…” Blake felt her blood rush and nails dig into her sheets. “You do have a right. I just… it was so confusing and I didn’t know things would… ugh, I’m not trying to make excuses okay? Listen, I swear I’ll come clean with everything but now is not the time. We need to catch up to Jacquelyn.”

“Stop deflecting! You’re in no shape to move anyways. Why would a maiden need help, and why does she care about-”

“Damnit Ilia, she’s pregnant with his kid!” Blake shouted. Her words had frozen Ilia in her tracks. Time was a thing Blake refused to waste. Even if the worst had already come to pass, Blake could at least save two lives; as well as any others that still suffered. Blake forced herself out of bed and passed Ilia, heading down stairs.

Her sense of urgency only got her as far as the living room before she saw Yang and Sun standing up, both alarmed by her swift actions. Yang quickly took hold of her by the wrist. “Let me go!”

“Hold on a second! Where are you going?”

Blake locked eyes with Yang. “Where did you think?” her arm tensed and tugged but couldn’t escape. “Did you even try to stop her, Jacquelyn?”

“You know damn well nothing I could say would’ve helped. Not like it matters. I doubt A-”

“SHUT UP!” Blake screamed as loud as she could. Anger and anxiety manifested as tears that threatened to run down her face. “As if you cared about what actually happened to him.”

Yang felt her hand trembling. Blake’s judgements gaze turned her own gaze to scarlet. Was coming here a mistake? Did this one man’s existence truly mean the death of one of Yang’s greatest relationships? The one she wanted to restore so badly? “You’re right… there hasn’t been a day I didn’t wish that stab killed him instantly, but what does that have to do with what’s right here, right now? You know as well as I do Blake that running off now means nothing without a plan or rest. You’re racing to a dead man.”

The tears finally fell, and they fell full with a silent wrath that Blake had never felt, or has been seen. “So what? Then I’ll save the body.” A burst of strength freed her arm and Blake didn’t look back. She ran, ran far and fast. Disappearances, murders, torture, how could this have all swept by her? Blake promised them peace. Blake hoped for peace, believed things were changing. Nothing had changed. Nothing, but the one person she never believed could. Blake was no High Leader of peace. Merely a leader of the blind.

Yang could only watch her partner race of, her final words still echoing clear. Saving the body, Jacquelyn had said the same thing. Yang looked at the hand that failed to reach her friend. “Why…” she clenched her fist tightly and began to cry. “Why can’t I hold onto you?”

Ilia had finally come down the stairs to see the end result of further friction. Sun pointed in Blake’s direction and Ilia took off running. “I’ll keep her safe. Call Ghira and Kali!” She didn’t stop to get a confirmation. She didn’t need it. “I’ll keep her safe Sun. For everyone’s sake.”

Ilia might not have been looking back but Sun nodded anyways. “Good luck.”

“Good luck? How could you say that right now?” Yang said trembling. “I’ll keep her safe?” Yang had reached her limit. Her head snapped towards him and grabbed his shirt. “HOW COULD THE BOTH OF YOU SAY THAT SO CASUALLY!?” She cried, shaking him. “HOW CAN YOU KEEP UP WITH HER WHEN I...I” Yang fell to her knees in defeat. It’s always been this way. Even from the very start. No matter how close Blake had gotten, Yang always felt like she was out of reach; while others, while Sun never failed to keep his stride. All that Yang was, could never take all who Blake is. It’s why their love broke down. It’s why Yang broke down. “How are you okay with this?”

Sun wasn’t sure what to think of all of this. He’s seen Yang upset, but never so...in pain. He knelt down and reached slowly for her hand, until she actively grabbed him tightly. “Yang, who says I’m okay?” Her body jolted. Yang’s head rose up to look at him. Sun could only offer a small smile and a hand to wipe her tears. “I’m scared out of mind. There’s so much I didn’t know like Ilia and things I wanted to say to Blake before she left, but didn’t. Not right now anyways. Ilia is the same, I'm sure.”

“Yet you stay here without question and Ilia follows her into a living nightmare without question!? How could-”

“Because at the end of it all, agreeing or not, comprehending or confused, I’ll stand by Blake to help anyway I can. You know as well as I do Blake follows the beat of her own drum, and she doesn’t know how it’ll turn out. People like you, Ilia, and I, we’re encouraged to, well, free to join in and add to the crazy beat. What we can’t do, is stop it. Blake will do it anyways. It’s why I love her so much. Easily her best, and most dangerous quality. That’s why she’s always telling people they’re free to leave. Blake’s never gonna ask someone to take part in her risks. Yeah, this situation is nuts; I’m definitely gonna chew her ear off by the end of whatever happens. Until then, nothing matters but making sure the end isn’t the worst it could be.”

Was that really his entire reasoning? She’ll do it anyways so might as well help. It was so reckless, dangerously simple, it was..Sun. It was Sun, and it used to be her too. Yang couldn’t count how many times she did something and Blake ran with it, or at least stuck around in case she needed help. Has that attitude changed? Yang didn’t think so. This situation though, it was… “You can willingly help Adam without a second thought?”

“Hmm? Of course not. I can help Blake without a second thought. If that leads to Adam, then fine. I’ll take him if I have to and be glad if there’s no need. Though, I know why that’s harder for you to do than me.” He squeezed her prosthetic. “Blake actually called me about you visiting. She was so happy to finally see you again. Even if things fell apart, Blake liked that you wanted to try. I’m pretty sure it’s the same with Adam. All Blake wants is a chance to have everything she dreams about. Pretty greedy, I think I’m a bad influence hehe.” He stood up and faced the open door. The light of the sunset had finally begun to fade. “Yang, is Blake in your dream ending?”

“What kind of question is that?” Yang held her head down. “You know she is. Honestly, Blake’s the last piece. I even have my mom back for crying out loud.”

“Ha, if that’s the case…” Sun reached for hand again and got Yang on her feet. “Dance to the end.”

A fire inside Yang felt ready to burn her up. It felt terrifying, yet nostalgic. How long had it been since she felt so exhilarated? Still Yang knew the price to pay for wanting everything. If she were to do this, she’d risk the future Jaune and her were going to have. Yang’s hand rubbed her stomach. No one would judge her for stopping now. Sun might’ve spoken differently if he knew, or maybe not? He’d probably tell her ‘everything’ would mean not losing Blake and the baby. Weirdly enough, there was beauty in that mindset.

“Sun?”

“Yeah?”

Yang smiled at him,then ran out the door. “I’ll keep those idiots safe!”

Sun could only cuff his hands around his mouth and scream with all of his heart.

“GOOD LUCK!” He pulled a small box out of his pocket and opened it to rub a ring inside. “Good luck...”

[black-streak]

Waiting for the Worms - Another Brick in the Wall

Part 8

Me? Rapidly updating a story for the sake of satiating my own curiosity for how this will continue? It's more likely than you think. Did I spend upward of ten minutes deciding and researching the weapons and blade types used just for one paragraph worth of text? Absolutely.

You know, the mentions of neglect and child abuse and violence is actually kind of light considering. Still very present though.

Closed list that I've been hitting up the last three days: @northernbluetongue @thethirdwheelfriend @shizukiryuu @theatreandcomicfreak @michellemagic @karategirl119 @moonlightstar64 @my-name-is-michell @mystery-5-5 @zalladane @queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm @miraculousdisapointment @dorkus-minimus @jardimazul @allthebooksandcrannies @g-arya @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @persephonescat @mycupisbroken @luciferge @18-fandoms-unite-08 @dawnwave16 @alwaysreblogneverpost @kris-pines04 @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @weird-pale-blonde-person @you-will-never-know-how-i-think @kokotaru @naclychilli @slytherinhquinn @clumsy-owl-4178 @ladybug-182 @darkthunder1589 @evil-elf16 @dast218 @lysslovsanime @emilytopaz @naoryllis @iloontjeboontje @thepeacetea @danielslilangel @finallyaniguana @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff @vixen-uchiha @yuulxd @bleeding-heart-romantic @magic-inthe-stars @st0rmy-w1th1n

~---~

Training with Talia's personal squadron the day after waking from the pits came as no surprise. Starting up history and world languages classes however, took her a bit off guard. 

Marinette was already fluent in french and english from her own volition, and picked up spanish from Jason over time after finding his own fluidity and background with the language. The two had been slowly learning mandarin after her uncle's visit a few years back and Jason insisted they figure it out together with her own heritage being a driving force. She had died before they could become fully conversational. 

When Marinette offered this information up to Talia, bypassing the reason she spoke so many languages already and passing it off as Jason's love for knowledge and literature combining, Talia immediately turned her over to two teachers; one to teach mandarin and eventually expand into cantonese and another to focus in on arabic. The second was seen as the priority what with location and its commonality within the complex. Obviously, the league's personal dialect was taught as a subset to these lessons, though it was ensured she knew the differences.

History focused in on Asia, occasionally falling off track into South American and African history, her western knowledge cohesive and complex enough to satisfy Talia, which came as no surprise seeing as though Europe and North America tended to focus only on their own history. She couldn't help but think how jealous Jason would be to know she received extensive free education that wasn't the same rhetoric he'd been hearing since he was five, granted with more reality and detailing as time passed.

They held off on teaching the League history until they felt her world knowledge was comprehensive enough to appreciate the way their personal history tied into it all.

The physical training took up about six hours every day. An hour of stretching, followed by two hours of hand to hand combat, then two hours specializing in weapons, and finally another hour of stretching. Her weapons focus geared towards close combat mostly, with a preference for the F-S fighting knife, a double-edged blade sitting just short of eight inches and a BC-41, essentially a set of brass knuckles with a blade running through the inner palm and extending outwards by a good 5 inches. When maintaining some distance and using more of her martial arts training, she leaned heavily towards a double bladed staff. The experience of twirling a weaponized yoyo for a year made using the staff a comfortable transition. 

It took three months before Talia felt comfortable sending her out on a mission with her team. It ended up a bloodbath. They were meant to track down a league member gone rogue, only to find the woman training others. They took out the entire group, Marinette falling to the bloodthirsty voice echoing in her head at all times. By the time she came fully to, dead bodies littered the ground about her. She suppressed herself to the back of her own mind, forcefully disassociating until they arrived back at the underground city three days later, hiding away in her rooms before breaking down. Talia found her in the midst of a panic attack and talked her down, explaining how the pit caused the worst of her to form into a tangent voice in her head, how it took time and practice to tamper it down to the almost nonexistent form it took before her dip. How it wasn't her fault she fell pray to it and the objective had been to take out the target anyways. That the defective leader would've trained that group to come back and take them out. That it would've threatened her life in the complex had she not killed in front of the other assassins. The idea that it all was a form of self defense helped ease her mind, though she vowed to try harder, to take back control from the pit madness that overwhelmed her in that moment.

The week after, she took up meditation in her down time. While the reminder of her mother hurt, the peace and mental fortitude it offered held too high of an appeal to bypass. It helped that it seemed a common practice across the city. Whether to aid others in suppressing their own demons or just for the ritualistic quality, she didn't know, but the practice further blended her into the community, something Talia took great pride in. 

By her fifth month living amongst the League, her already decent mandarin had been perfected and they finally focused in on cantonese. Her arabic and league dialect progressed rapidly, but only due to constant exposure. Even one day spent away from the city ended with butchered words and completely horrific pronunciations of even the basics. Due to this, she never spoke outside of her lessons or the confines of her or Talia's rooms. It came as quite the embarrassment when the team had to rely entirely on hand signals during missions she accompanied. Sure, that was the standard anyways, but they all knew the option of speech was impeded by her. Luckily, they were all led to believe her mute instead of simply incompetent.

In her sixth month, she relapsed during a fight again, losing her mind until she locked herself in her rooms once more. It took Talia three days to get her to let the guilt pass once more.

It was around this time, Talia started pointing out specific escape routes and pathways that were blocked off or unknown to most. She started teaching her how to hide from even the assassins. Started to train her in private how to break through the other's defenses, to counteract their own training. They kept it all out of the public eye, where it could make its way back to Ras. Marinette couldn't say what the woman was preparing her for, but she took it all to heart. 

It was only a week after this development that she moved to a new training room. It held some of the higher ups within Talia's group and strangely enough, one small child. The kid was barely four feet, but quickly proved extremely adept with a katana. The two never faced each other, but he obviously took note of the newest member within the room. 

After a month in the new room, Talia seemed to relax once more, taking pride in Marinette having not relapsed in the passing time and showing no signs of backtracking. The child in the room only seemed to grow more observant as the days passed. It was on one of these days, that Marinette decided to make a move of her own. The head trainer had cut the kid down, the small body splayed on the mat, bruises and cuts littering his body, Talia standing in quiet observation from the corner. Marinette saw the glint of concern hidden within her eyes and reacted instinctively. She took her bladed staff and slipped behind the trainer who stood berating the boy below, laying the side of one sharpened end up on the man's shoulder, blade barely touching his neck, she waited until he turned towards her slowly and tilted her head with a condescending sneer, challenging him without a word spoken.

The man took his focus entirely off the kid, only to be swept off his feet and placed under a sharp blade, the child standing over him now.

"Lesson one, never lose track of the number of enemies in a room," the boy stated, hinting at a snarl.

"Damian," Talia called in a demanding tone.

The boy immediately backed off and allowed the master back onto his feet, his face expressionless beyond a tiny twitch next to his right eye. Both were dismissed for the day.

The next day, the trainer singled Marinette out. Upon his approach, she took up the staff once more. While she preferred her knives, she knew she needed an upperhand in this fight and had too much talent with the easily spun weapon to pass it up. She expected to lose, but refused to go down easily. As he stood before her, she waited patiently, slowly twirling the staff lightly between her fingers, not breaking into any specific stance. Best not to trap herself in a range of motions, but to keep open to move in any direction at a moment's notice. Talia trained her better than to lose for something as simple as having an attack come from a source her stance didn't allow a counter movement for.

Eventually, the man's built up resentment and frustration came through and he struck first. 

From there, the fight continued in an almost rhythmic, dance for her, an angry tsunami of movement for him. She was surprised how much the counteractions Talia taught her came in to use. She must have been training her in a parallel to the man before her, wanting her to best him. And with most of the assassins specialized in staffs using non-bladed forms, the easy twirl of twin blades always at him, it gave her a leg up over him. From the corner of her eye, she noticed the others had slowed their motions, watching their battle without fully stopping their own. The kid, Damian, had turned fully to watch, having ended the fight with his current trainer some moments before. 

Both her and the trainer had a slew of shallow cuts along flanks when finally, she landed a blow across his face, slashing from above an eyebrow, down the bridge of his nose and down the opposite cheek. With blood dripping into his eye, she managed to disable the man and bring them to a stand still. She might not be able to best Talia or even some of the more uniquely members within the group, but she could take down the lead trainer. The approving look of her own mentor and the curious stare of the young one was enough for her. She left the room with her head held high.

Talia increased her training tenfold afterwards, convinced she could take the workload now. Sent her on a more intensive mission and then promptly benched her, publicly for unknown reasons, privately to increase her lessons with Talia, herself.

At eight months, Damian cautiously approached her. The curiosity had grown and with the obviously protective manner of her challenge to the master, it seemed to ease him towards her.

He glanced at Talia who observed them with a closed off expression and turned back towards her with a determined look.

"So you're her new pet project?"

Marinette rose a single eyebrow in response.

"I'm her son," he growled out, amusing in his tiny, unbroken voice, if not for the accompanying words.

Without outwardly showing it, Marinette quickly processed her surprise, realization striking. Damian was her son. She had shown her how to take down most any enemy, how to escape, how to protect. Talia never showed any outward connection towards the child in front of her, practically ignored him until he stepped out of line. Marinette had seen the concern though. The fear and regret glinting towards the boy in odd moments when nobody was looking. All of the training, the private lessons, all hinting at an eventual escape. Talia wanted her to take Damian out of here. To escape with him. Needed someone unattached, with no connections in the world to hold them back with the right background. Jason just so happened to also hold an emotional connection for her with his past with Bruce reminiscent of her own. Used and forgotten. It was a way of offering a life to her own son while giving Jason a connection of his own when he had nothing else. As far as she knew anyways.

And Marinette couldn't fault her for it. Couldn't see a way to begrudge the woman this. Where would she be otherwise, if maybe a little less murderous? Out on the streets, alone and broken. Lost in the world. She felt gratitude, despite the woman blatantly using her. Somehow she knew that had circumstances been different, if Jason had a life to return to, she'd never have kidnapped her all those months ago. 

This all flashed within her mind in a moment, glancing at Talia before refocusing on the kid. She offered a light hum in return. Damian took this as the acceptance it was and went on his way. That was okay, she knew the lack of rebuttal and ease of her demeanor would draw him back soon enough. Looking up, she met Talia's eyes and gave an almost imperceptible nod, not imagining the way the woman's eyes lit up.

[swimyghost]

Hey y’all! I wrote a little ficlet for @self-insert-nonsense‘s MHA villain character, Spectre. Please go to them if you want to know more!

---

Spectre thought this would be an easy battle. Toy with, or even kill, some heroes to satisfy Shigaraki's almost fetishistic need to impress his father. Spectre never wanted to get into any of the other villains dirty laundry, especially Shigaraki's. She saw what he could do to people and wasn't one to accept failure without someone getting hurt in the process. So, Spectre respectfully did what she was told like a good little ghost.

"Is everything in order?" Shigaraki's raspy voice said over his miniature army of villains.

"Of course, Shiggy, dear!" Toga responded right next to Spectre. It took everything in Spectre's power not to flinch at the loudness of her voice.

"No! Of course not! Yes, I am, big man!" A black and gray bodysuit wearer appeared in the villainess peripheral vision. Spectre couldn't help but smile as the man continued to shift in tones and dramatically wave his hands. Twice was always fun to be around, even if he was a little unpredictable.

"What about you, Lizard Man?" Shigaraki turned to his right.

The "lizard man" lowered his red scarf and his bared his teeth. He unleashed an animalistic snarl at his blue-haired companion. Shigaraki raised his hands defensively. "Relax, Spinner, I was only teasing."

Spinner snorted and turned away. Spectre couldn't control her eye roll. Spinner had to be her least favorite villain (not saying she had a favorite but who was paying attention anyway?). He was infatuated with Stain and emulated him in every single way. Through his clothing, his weapons, his fighting style, Spectre was so close to waltzing into Tartarus herself and taking over Stain just to shut the man up. 

"Spectre!" 

Sure, I might be caught, Spectre mused But at least he'd stop cosplaying in battle.

Shigaraki's harsh voice broke through her thoughts. Her eyes met his red ones. She could almost feel the dry skin around them peel off and float towards her. Spectre nearly gagged as he spoke.

"We need you to go out first. Cause a little distraction so the pure and honorable heroes get too tied up to notice their demise."

Spectre heard Toga let out a cackle. She dipped her head and stretched. "Alright, sir. Let me get into position."

He nodded and glanced up from his spot in the trees. "Dabi, watch her body for us."

Spectre blinked in surprise. She hadn't noticed the jet haired individual squatting above them until Shigaraki pointed him out. He lazily glanced down at Spectre and frowned. "Seriously? I'm on babysitting duty? Why not Spinner or Toga?"

"We need Spinner's blades to cut through the enemy and for Toga to copy one of them to create distrust among their ranks."

"Twice?" Dabi suggested, leaping down next to his commander.

"Twice won't do it, never!" His gruff tone turned to a more positive one. "I'd be glad to help out, Shigaraki!"

Shigaraki raised his hand, silencing Twice before he went on one of his tangents. "Twice's skills will be useful in this fight."

He leaned into the other man's face and sneered. "Are you questioning my authority, Dabi?"

The air around them grew still. Toga swiftly pulled out a knife and ran her tongue across the blade. Twice followed Toga and dropped his measuring tapes to his sides. Spectre even noticed Spinner reach for his weapons. The standoff between the two members was growing tenser by the moment. Although she wasn't a fighter by nature, more of a manipulator, Spectre knew how to throw a couple of good punches and a kick. Preparing herself for a clash between the two villains, the villainess Quirk user inched forward, her long sleeves brushing against the surrounding twigs and leaves. 

Instead of blasting Shigaraki in the face with his azure flames, Dabi tsked and turned his head. His intense blue gaze bore into Spectre.

"Fine, I'll watch her," Dabi said after several agonizing seconds. "But don't expect me to make sure she remains completely scratch-free."

Shigaraki's chapped lips grew into a frightening smile. "All I ask is for your best."

He turned to Spectre. "Are you ready, my dear?"

Spectre nodded. "Yes, sir."

Without another word, she settled herself into a comfortable position against the tree. Specter doubt checked to make sure she wouldn't fall out of the tree the moment she left her body. She could tell everyone was growing antsy or annoyed or a combination of both. However, dozens of shattered rips and broken bones taught her to always be careful. With a deep breath, her ghost form exploded from her chest. The familiar chill brought nothing but a sense of euphoria. She looked down at her comrades, smiled, then dashed through the trees. Not even the leaves were rustled by her jet-like speeds. Once the treeline clear and a path came into view, she settled in between two oaks. Purple wisps fluttered off her body as she nestled deeper into the leaves. She could hear her targets drawing closer.

It was a greasy-haired teacher and his costumed students following him like ducklings.

Probably some silly training exercise she sneered. Not that it will ever match the real deal.

She counted them all; Twenty in total. Then she started to pick out her potential victims. Maybe that punk chick with the long earlobes that dangled like headphone jacks? Nah, she was too busy talking to some barely dressed ponytail girl and would probably see her if she tried to Possess her. Perhaps the buff kid with several arms? He seemed to be purposely putting himself away from the group and Spectre needed a bigger distraction. What about that purple midget that was trying to sneak a peek under Ponytail's clothes? Spectre shivered.

He's the one!

Even I have limits she thought to herself. Then she let out a wheezy laugh when a frog-like girl slapped the boy with her tongue. She went to her search when she found him. A green-haired boy shouldered between two other people. Yes, he was leading the gaggle of students along with the obviously underslept teacher, but he had an aura around him. Spectre could almost feel the power radiating off him. She licked her lips and a soft moan escaped her mouth. 

Without a moment of hesitation, Spectre flew over the group. She dive-bombed downward and before anyone could utter out a warning, she Possessed the powerful child. 

Spectre was right in her assumption. He was containing a powerful Quirk. She could feel it running through her. But something was wrong. Instead of the usual adrenaline pulsing through her, Spectre was feeling a numb tingling sensation. Her host let out a raspy breath and clutched his chest; both of them felt something awful.

"Midoriya?" She heard someone call out.

She would've answered but the tingling transformed into a burning sensation. Using her host's body, she began to scratch at her arms. Spectre could sense that everyone was staring at her (him? Them?). She didn't care. She couldn't care. All she could focus on was getting this burning to stop.

"Hey, dumbass! What's the matter with you? Your nerd brain finally killed itself or something?" 

Spectre would've normally whipped around and charged at the person who dared insult her and she almost did. Then it hit her.

A bolt of lightning slammed into her and caused the pain to quadruple in intensity. The once fiery sensation was replaced with complete electrical torture. Even though she shouldn't have been able to feel the pain of her host in any way, Spectre felt like her skin was melting off her. Her muscles torn off her like a rapid dog tearing the meat a bone. Her host's eyes were watering for he felt the exact same pain she did. They gripped their head and screamed. Spectre didn't know if it was her screaming or her host. Whatever the case, the excoriating pain needed to stop.

"Izuku!"

They felt a pair of hands grabbed onto them. They turned their head and were met with soft, yet terrified, brown eyes. A girl with the soundest face Spectre had ever seen was staring at them, clearly concerned about their health. That concern turned to complete fear as she looked into her host's (Spectre figured his name had to be Izuku) eyes. They were a glowing violet, like all her past and future victims would have if she Possessed them.��

"Uraraka! Get out of the way!"

This is my chance! I have to strike!

Despite the torture Spectre was going through, she dug through her host’s soul, his everything, his Being, to find his Quirk. Once she felt it, she took hold. The pain grew even worse as she charged up an attack. Their right arm began to glow a bright teal with sparks flying off it. Oh God, it was painful. Their arm was nothing but a pile of melted flesh if what they were feeling was correct.

They swung forward, hoping to pop that stupid girl's eyes out of her socket. Before she could even get close, a black figure stepped in front of the round-faced girl. The white scarf around their neck was hovering threatening around him. They looked up, filled with rage at this audacity of this man. The moment they looked up, they were met with a piercing red glare. Before Spectre to try and fight back, she was thrown away from her host and back into her normal body.

Spectre gasped for air. She wrapped herself up tightly with her arms. Her breaths turned into panicked wheezing. Although the pain was gone, she could still psychosomatically feel its effects under her skin. She began to scratch. And scratch. And scratch. And-

"Mimoto!"

A rough hand grasped her ghostly gray one and slammed it against the tree. It snapped her out of her spiraling emotions. She peered upwards and was face to face with Dabi's icy blue eyes. While his face remained neutral, almost uncaring, Spectre didn't miss the concern in his voice.

He used my name 

No one, not even Twice or Toga, used her name: Nusuma Mimoto. She told everyone it but they, including her, preferred her villain name. 

Her heart thudded against her chest. She was sure Dabi could her it.

"What happened? Tell me!" Dabi demanded.

Ah, there's the real Dabi.

"I'm not sure," Spectre confessed. "I choose this green-haired kid to Possess and... It hurt. You know as well as I that none of my Possessions have ever hurt before but for this reason this... Snot colored brat made me feel like I was being shredded."

Dabi froze. He released Spectre's hand and stood up from his crouched position. He gazed off towards the clearing, the sounds of battle growing louder and louder.

"Izuku Midoriya." he murmured.

"Izuku Midoriya?" Spectre repeated. "You know him."

"Sorta."

Toga's shrill laughter followed by several thunder-like explosions echoed across the forest. The roaring of an engine and lightning fell close behind that. Dabi cracked his neck before looking down at Spectre. "Are you going to be fine or do you need a blankie?"

Spectre waved him off, ignoring the baby voice he put on. "Go. They'll need your dumbass more than me." 

Dabi was about to take off but Spectre grabbed hold of the bottom of his black coat. She looked up at him and bared her teeth.

"Go get 'em, Charcoal."

Dabi smirked and dove into the trees. His footsteps grew softer and softer the farther away he got. Alone, Spectre slumped against the tree, not bothering to focus on keeping her balance. If she fell, she fell. She was too busy pondering one single thought.

Who is Izuku Midoriya?

[lil-creatorwritings]

Napoleon Birthday Prompt 2020 Day 4: Secret

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire Pairing: Napoleon Bonaparte x Isabella Leatton (OC) Word Count: 1,799 words Prompt: [ dance ] / [ “I’m not going to step on you this time, you’ll see.” ] Warning: None, I guess? It is more of hurt/comfort though. A/N: Part of @kissmetwicekissmedeadly 's Napoleon Birthday Prompts 2020. Check the original post here! So, this fic was suppose to be done... 500 words ago. Or 700. I'm not sure. But the point is, my muse has gone off into a tangent again and so here we are. This wasn't suppose to be a hurt/comfort, but it had ended up that way. I was not prepared to hurt my dear Isabella like this, but the muse wants what she wants, and I cater to her whimsical ideas. I am but just a vehicle for her literary visions. Anyway, enough about that nonsense and let's get into the fic, shall we?

---

It was eerily quiet. Napoleon closed the door, yawning as he made his way through the foyer. He'd woken up late today as usual, but to his surprise, it wasn't a pair of soft lips that greeted him awake. It was a gloved hand and Sebastian didn't say anything more than a greeting and that pancakes were freshly made and ready to eat downstairs.

She wasn't there in the dining room when he arrived. The others who were there didn't know where she was either, saying that they hadn't seen her this morning either. Isabella had been acting strange these past few days, avoiding him whenever he tries to spend time with her. There was always some sort of excuse that took up most of her hours, only seeing her again at dinner and before they settle down for bed. And even then she would fall asleep relatively fast, murmuring about how tired she was before drifting off on his chest.

Not only that, but it also seemed that she was hanging out with a few of the residents a bit more. Once, he spotted her speaking to Arthur with a hushed tone, cutting their conversation short as he got closer to them. There was also a time when she entered the music room, her presence making the piano keys stop in their tracks and resume only when she left. Neither of those bothered him at first, not until last night when she mentioned about her sore ankles.

Normally, he was not one to push. He knew that people would open up about it in their own time if they chose to do so. The only thing he can do in the meantime is to give support and wait until they're ready. But this was different.

What could she be working so hard for? More importantly, why is she keeping it a secret from him?

Since no one knew where she was, he started his search in the mansion. A quick sweep through the second floor revealed that she wasn't there--she would leave the door slightly open to signal where she was if someone needed to locate her. The garret was empty and so was the training hall and the thermae. By the time he finished combing through the gardens, Isaac was waiting for him by the gate to head into town together for their little school.

When they returned, the lobby was just as empty as they left Since dinner was still a few hours away, Napoleon decided to head to his room to lie down for a bit. The sound of voices from the game room didn't interest him until he heard her laughing, her words muffled from the thickness of the door.

He didn't bother to knock. What he found was rather unusual, given its occupants. Arthur was seated on the sofa with his legs crossed, a seemingly innocent bystander of the scene unfolding in the middle of the room. Isabella was in Leonardo's arms, her hand clasped in one of his and the other resting on his shoulder. The taller man's free arm was around her waist a little too snugly to his liking, an exasperated look present on his face.

Comte, who was standing close to the two, looked at him with a curious look. "Is something wrong, Napoleon?"

Resting a hand on his hip, he did his best to school his features and sound casual. "No, but I need to talk to Isabella about something if you don't mind."

"Hm, I suppose it is time for her to take a break. We can always continue later if you want." The painter reached to ruffle her hair slightly, chuckling when she pouted and ducked to get away from him.

"Geez, Leonardo! Did you have to mess up my hair like that?" She walked over to him, smoothing down her hair as she approached. "What did you nee-oh!"

Napoleon took her by the wrist and pulled her out of the room, leaving the three men behind to exchange glances. He didn't stop until they entered his room, bringing her into his arms as soon as the door was shut. She let out a surprised yelp, tilting her head over the strangeness of his actions. "Napoleon? What is it?"

Nuzzling in her neck, he took a deep breath of her scent and sighed. "I haven't seen you for days."

"That's not true. I wake you up and see you at night during dinner. We even head for bed together."

"I meant that we hadn't spent that much time with each other."

"I guess so. There's quite a bit of work to be done around the mansion."

"That's not it. I mean... it feels like you're avoiding me."

"Avoiding you? Why would I do that?"

He looked up at her, thinking the same question. "That's what I want to know. Because even when I try to catch you at a free time, you're suddenly headed somewhere else or talking to someone else about something. And the next time I saw you, you were with the other residents and having fun with them. Without me."

"It's not like we were doing anything wei--" Isabella paused, observing him before she tilted her head. "Wait. Were you... jealous?"

Ah. So that would explain the heat swirling in his chest earlier. "Don't change the subject. This isn't about me."

"I'm not trying to."

"So why are you avoiding me but acting the same with the others?"

"I'm not avoiding you nor am I favoring spending time with others over you. And that's the truth." Her eyebrows knit together as her mouth pressed into a thin line, her voice taut with restraint.

Napoleon guided her to sit on the bed, kneeling in front of her. He recognized that look on her face--it was that look she gets when she's trying to shut off her emotions. Taking a deep breath, he clasped her hands in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You know you can tell me anything, right? I know that something's troubling you." When she didn't budge, he continued. "I don't mind how long we have to stay here until you're ready. But I'm always here for you."

A quiet moment passed before she sighed, her shoulders dropping from their uptight position. She cast her gaze down on their joined hands resting on her lap, fingers idly fiddling with his. "You remember that party we were invited to a couple of days ago. The one where we danced and had almost bumped into another couple on the floor."

He nodded. It was a thank you from a nobleman that he rescued a week ago. The man was a jeweler on the way to deliver a client's commission when he was coerced into an alleyway to be robbed. He had noticed just in time to disarm the thief of his knife and took him to the nearest police station. Before he left, the man had promised to reward him with something and received a letter of invitation to the party the next day.

"When you went to talk to the nobleman, I heard a couple of women talking about how clumsy I was. It wouldn't have bothered me as much until... they started saying how it made you look awful. How they would've made for a better dance partner. How I... wasn't fit for someone like you." She swallowed, her voice faltering into a soft tone as she tightened her grip on his hands. "I told myself I'd learn how to dance properly so that... I can prove them wrong..."

Napoleon knew that there had always been a conflict in the back of her mind, something in the vein of 'being a good enough match for him', or rather, who he had been when he was still human. It was never said out loud, but there was no need--it was moments like this that spoke out for what she truly felt. She's the one who's most aware of her flaws, always trying to cover it up one way or another and fix it on her own. That sort of independence was something he admired but also detested, especially when it led her to this.

Moving up beside her, he guided her head to his chest and caressed her hair. "Isabella," he started, feeling her weight as she leaned into him, hands gripping on his shirt. "it doesn't matter what other people think or say. The only thing I care about is you and I'll always love you for who you are."

She trembled in his embrace, overcome with the meaning of his words. To whose standards is she not right for him, he will never know, because the sole opinion that mattered to him was his own. He loves her entire being, faults included, and she loves him with unadulterated affection. That was the only truth they needed.

It took her a while to look up at him, hazel eyes misty with unshed tears as she nodded. "Thank you."

Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he waited for her to compose herself before asking. "So, you were asking them to teach you how to dance?"

"Yes, Napoleon, I was." Isabella let out a tired laugh, taking a deep breath before nuzzling in his neck. "I've been asking them in my spare time."

"But Leonardo doesn't know how to dance."

"The one teaching me is Comte. He insisted that I practice with Leonardo earlier to test how much I've improved."

"And Arthur?"

"He saw it by accident once and was just there to gawk and poke fun at us."

So that's what it all was. He felt a bit silly to be so worked up about it. "Why didn't you ask me to help you?"

"I would have, but I wanted to surprise you. I was going to show you that I wouldn't step on your feet next time." She wrapped her arms around him, lifting her head to look up at him. "Were you jealous though?"

He pouted just a bit. "No."

"Really? I could have sworn you were when you barged in the room like that earlier."

"That was just your imagination."

"Oh, I see. And you searching for me throughout the whole mansion earlier was just Vincent's imagination?"

"Yes." Napoleon smiled, relieved to notice the ache in his chest has disappeared. She shook her head at him, chuckling softly as she rested her head on his chest. Leaning backward, he collapsed down on the mattress with her on top of him.

"I know they're expecting me soon, but can we stay like this a little longer?"

"Of course." He kissed the top of her head, his hand already running up and down her back. "As long as you need."

[ethospathoslogan]

there will come a poet: chapter five (a vampire sanders sides fanfiction)

A/N: the original chapter 5 was supposed to be much longer but, realizing that A Lot was happening for just one chapter, i decided to split the chapter into 5 and 6!! so chapter 6 should be coming soon :)

summary: “So, whatever magic they did to become undead,” Patton said, “You think there’s a similar type of magic at work… here?”

ships: eventual moxiety and logince

WC: 3,720

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taglist: @iwillsithereandtrytocontribute , @glitchybina , @ab-artist , @daring-elm , @crazydemigod666

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If there was one thing that worked to wake Patton up amidst walking alone in the castle halls, it was the realization that he could not find Logan anywhere.

Which was, as some might guess, concerning.

After circling through the castle three times—checking and rechecking the library and the sitting room, all the while holding onto the hope that Logan was smart enough to avoid even thinking about venturing into the brothers’ bedrooms—and coming up empty-handed, Patton was almost ready to upgrade from “mild panic” to “holy smokes something has gone terrible wrong.”

Almost, that is, until, as he walked by one of the tall windows looking out into the courtyard, a shimmering blue light in the distance caught his eye. 

Slowing his step until, eventually, backtracking completely, Patton peered out the window into the darkness. For another moment, the courtyard was just as still and lifeless as it was when Patton first arrived.

And then, at the Wall of Vines, another streak of blue light passed as if a hand was passing over it.

Patton’s legs were already carrying him down the spiral of stone steps outside the large castle doors. If, in their sprint, his feet almost skidded out from under him in a feat that would’ve sent him crashing down to the overgrown courtyard, he paid no mind.

Sprinting around the corner of one of the dilapidated buildings on the edge of the kingdom, he found Logan. Back to him, seemingly unaware of Patton’s interruption to whatever he was doing, Logan held his spell book in one hand as, silently, he waved the other in front of the vines. His fingers left blue light to float in the air for a moment before dimming with a quiet hiss.

The vines, making no movement, shimmered under Logan’s magic.

“Logan!” Patton whispered.

Logan startled, his book fumbling out of his hands, and he spun to face Patton. His eyes wide behind his square frames, he blinked at Patton before finally finding his voice, “Oh, good morning, Patton. Apologies for not hearing you approach.”

“You’re fine.” Walking forward, Patton picked up his spellbook. Casting a worried look at the worn cover, he continued with, “Uh, what’cha doin’ out here?”

“Conducting a… study, you could say,” Logan explained as he took his book back.

Patton couldn’t figure out whether or not that was the answer he wanted to hear.

“A study on… what?” He asked, stepping up alongside Logan as he turned to face the Vine Wall. Looking up, he had to tilt his head all the way back to see where it ended.

“On this barrier, of course.” Looking back to his book, he flipped a page before waving his hand again in another streak of blue light.

Patton furrowed his eyebrows. “You’re not… doing anything to it, are you?”

Logan chuckled. “I can’t.”

“Logan!”

“No, I mean-” Logan cut himself off with a sigh. “I have used every magical detection spell that I know on this barrier. There is literally nothing I can do to… change, harm, or even fully understand this barrier.”

Patton turned his confused look back to the vines. “What does that… mean?”

“It means- actually, allow me to show you!” Logan smiled down at Patton and, with a snap, his hand caught fire.

Before Patton could even react, Logan was shooting it at the wall.

At Patton’s horrified look, Logan held up a hand and, together, they watched as the fire licked its way up the wall, encasing the braided vines and the thorns… before sizzling out, leaving the vines unharmed.

���As our people have discovered over the past century,” Logan explained, “This wall cannot be brought down by mortal or magical means. Perhaps it could be climbed, if someone really wished to risk both the thorns and the death that would come if they fell from such a height, but this is no normal barrier.”

“So it’s magical,” Patton said.

Logan, smiling, nodded. “Of course,” he confirmed, “But it’s… still odd. Most spells… cannot last this long. I can illuminate a room with light for an hour. I can be invisible for the better part of fifteen minutes. I can shield us for, at most? A minute. This-” And he gestured to the wall “-Has been standing for over a hundred years.”

Patton frowned. “I… don’t see where you’re going with this.”

“There is still magic at work here,” Logan said. “Powerful magic. That is not what I find surprising, actually. I have a theory that this… curse the brothers are under is the result of a spell for power, a spell for indescribable vitality, gone wrong.”

“But the legend says that the brothers…” Checking over his shoulder, Patton lowered his voice, “Brought it upon themselves.”

“And that I believe,” Logan said with a nod. “But my spellbook, a relic passed down for a century, holds no curse of vampirism. I can only assume that this all became the… unwanted side effect of a power trip.” Then, looking back down at his book, he laughed softly. “But forgive my tangent. I’m more so focused on this barrier, which I can at least try to understand, instead of taking educated guesses.”

“So, whatever magic they did to become undead,” Patton said, “You think there’s a similar type of magic at work… here?”

Logan, thinking, cocked his head. “Not… exactly,” he said. “Or- well, perhaps. But the big difference is that, a hundred years ago, they would have needed a mage for whatever spell they had intended to use that resulted in this curse. Now, though? There are no mages here, and yet they have had an incredibly magical barrier standing for all this time.”

Patton, silent for a while, finally said, “So there’s something else here.”

Logan beamed. “Precisely,” he said. “It’s… incredibly uncommon, but not unheard of, for those who do not possess magic to… channel a spell, so to speak, with the help of intense emotion.” He rolled his eyes. “It is not my preferred way of harnessing magic because of the instability of emotion, but there have been cases of it before.”

Patton raised his eyebrows. “Could I learn magic?”

“Perhaps,” he answered. “You would just need to channel enough emotion to… sustain it. Another rage to raze a city, or happiness to cure a fatal disease. The level of passion you would need, the level of desire to cast the spell you have set out to do and do it right… it’s immeasurable. Few people have ever done so successfully.”

Patton, nodding, looked back at the castle. “So you think this type of magic is at work here?”

Logan hummed in affirmation. “I do,” he said. “But there’s still more that I don’t know. What emotion fueled this? Many spells to this extent would need to be bound to something, so is there a sigil, or a rune, somewhere in the castle? Who’s maintaining it? Who has the knowledge to maintain a spell for a century?”

Patton, worrying his bottom lip, thought back to Janus’s secrecy, to his shock at Patton getting through the wall…

To his horror at another mage stepping into his castle.

“Perhaps this is just me overthinking,” Logan continued, musing. “Nevertheless, it is captivating. Don’t you think, Patton?”

Looking up at Logan, he swallowed thickly as he debated whether or not he should mention his suspicions.

For just a split second, he found himself… scared of what it would mean if others found out how this magic worked.

He decided on just smiling. “You know me, Lo,” he said. “I’ve always loved magic.”

Logan smiled, too. “So I’m aware.” He then looked to the wall and, carefully, placed a hand on one of the vines. “I’m curious as to who let you through. Remus could open up a… door-way, and I wonder if all the brothers have that power.”

“Oh, uh,” Patton said, “I think all the brothers can? At least- at least Virgil said he could let me out but I, uh… came through on my own?”

Logan, who had begun to poke at one of the giant thorns, stilled. “You… what?”

Patton shrugged. “I don’t understand it either. I just… talked to the vines, and they let me through.”

Logan, for a long time, stared down at Patton, studied Patton.

“Try to leave,” Logan finally said, quietly.

“What?”

“Just… entertain me, Patton.”

Patton, casting Logan a wary look, placed a hand on the thick vines. “Hey vines,” he said, softly. “It’s, uh… me again.” He shot Logan another look, who simply nodded on. “Thank you for, um, letting me in. Could you perhaps… open up again, please?”

 The courtyard fell silent as the vines didn’t move and, after a minute of nothing passing, Logan sighed.

“Well this just raises more questions,” He mumbled, shaking his head.

“Like why they let me in?”

“Well, yes, obviously,” he said. “But also is this a spell to keep things in, or out? No one but the brothers has been able to get through, and then you come along and you can? So what determines who can come in and out? Yet you can’t get out. So… is this barrier for protection, or to keep things locked up?”

“But how do we know that he isn’t planning something?”

“Because he’s here! He got through! You can’t ignore that.”

At the memory, first written off as just confusing, Patton raised his eyebrows. “I think… I think it’s for protection.” He looked up at Logan. “The one thing that shocked them all wasn’t that I got here in the first place, but that I was able to come in on my own.”

“Is that so?” Logan asked. “Did they say why?”

The only thing that came to Patton’s mind was Virgil’s… shock at how “good” of a person he must have been, but that just worsened the headache Patton was feeling come on.

He shook his head. “Honestly, it seems like they’re keeping a lot to themselves.”

Logan, sighing, nodded. “So it seems,” he said. “Perhaps it’s… understandable.”

“I can still see the gears in your head turning, Logan.”

“Can you?” Logan slid him a smirk. “Can I not just be intrigued by strange magic in a strange place? While I love the studies I have taken up with my mentor, to see magic that is not in my own spellbook is… riveting.”

Patton smiled and opened his mouth to say something else when, at the sound of crunching bramble behind them, they both whipped around to see Virgil staring back.

“Oh,” Patton said, “Morning Virgil! I didn’t think you’d be up this… early? Is this early or late for you?”

Virgil flicked his dark eyes between the two of them. “I- I don’t sleep a lot,” he said. “Uh, what are you two… doing out here?”

Patton, suddenly feeling like he had been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to be, fumbled for words while Logan said, “Simply working on my studies.” He shifted his spellbook from one hand to the others. “It’s… easier to do in a less confined space.”

Patton couldn’t tell if that was better or worse than whatever words died on his tongue.

Virgil blinked. “Right.”

“And- And I was just looking for him!” Patton finally managed out.

“Precisely,” Logan confirmed. “And I believe we were finishing up out here, Patton?”

Patton quickly nodded. “Yes!”

Virgil, after a hesitation, nodded and stepped back. “Well,” he said, “Then let’s…?”

“Yes,” Patton said, looking up at Logan who nodded back. “Let’s!”

Patton, as he led the charge back to the castle, noted two things.

One, that Logan was shadowing him particularly close.

Two, that he could feel Virgil’s eyes burning into the back of his head.

--

As the morning further progressed into the early afternoon with limited activity within the castle walls (asides from the occasional movement heard behind doors as Patton passed through the brothers’ wing), Patton finally made his way into his own room after convincing Logan that he didn’t have to follow him everywhere.

He loved his friend dearly, and truly appreciated his presence, but after growing up with Logan, Patton became fairly good at seeing the difference between Logan’s anxious hovering and Logan’s typical mother hen hovering.

(“I- I have no clue what you’re talking about!” Logan had stammered, blushing, when Patton finally brought it up to him.

“Okay! Whatever you say,” Patton had said with a smile. “Just know that I’ll be okay if I go downstairs on my own. You don’t have to worry, Logan.”)

It had taken some persuading and a lot of assurances that he’ll be fine, but eventually Patton was able to convince Logan that he could spend his afternoon perusing the castle’s library without needing to worry about him.

However, when there was a knock on his door not even fifteen minutes into being alone in his bedroom, Patton couldn’t help but fondly laugh and shake his head.

“Logan, I told you, I’ll be fine!” Swinging open the door, he prepared for more affectionate teasing-

And faltered where he found Virgil standing on the other side.

That morning, after Virgil had followed Patton and Logan into the castle, he had mumbled some reason to go to his room before, without even waiting for an answer, retreating up the stairs. While that hadn’t made Patton feel great, he was able to use Logan’s tendency to mother hen as a distraction and, as Virgil stayed behind his closed door, Patton had started to think he wouldn’t even see him again for the rest of the day.

“Oh, Virgil,” Patton said, blushing. “Sorry, I… I thought you would be Logan.”

“You’re- you’re fine,” Virgil quickly assured, though his tone just made it seem like he wanted to get on with the conversation. “Can I, uh-” He scratched the back of his neck, his eyes darting to look off behind Patton “-Can I talk to you for a second?”

He did his best to ignore how his heart pounded against his ribcage. “Oh. Oh! Yeah- yes, of course.” With a smile that he hoped hid his nerves, he stepped back and opened the door wider.

Virgil, with a faint smile, stepped through.

“So, uh,” Patton said, shutting the door behind them, “Is everything… okay?”

“Uh, maybe- I mean, yes- I think, I mean-” Virgil, frustrated with his own stammering, huffed and ran a hand through his hair. “I was thinking of what I wanted to say for hours and I’m still… anxious about it.”

Well, being honest, that didn’t make Patton feel particularly good. 

“Well, whatever you have to say,” Patton said, forcing his smile to stay on his face, “Take your time! I’m not- not going anywhere!”

Virgil let out a clipped laugh. “Yeah, apparently.” He worried his bottom lip, his fangs poking out, and, just as Patton started to shift under the silence, he continued with, “We can actually trust you, right?”

Patton, frowning, furrowed his eyebrows. “Of course!”

“Then what were you and Logan doing by the vines?”

“Oh, uh-”

“And don’t-” Virgil sighed, shaking his head. “Patton, don’t lie to me. I- I saw his magic from the windows. What were you two doing?”

Patton felt like his stomach was plummeting. 

Even if him and Logan hadn’t done anything wrong, it was a confirmation that they had been encroaching upon something they shouldn’t.

“I went out to the courtyard because I saw his magic, too,” Patton finally answered, his voice quiet. “Logan said he was studying it. He- he means no harm! To your family or the barrier. I- I know that. I told him not to do anything! But he said that… he can’t do anything to the barrier. No one can. Which- which I think we... all know. But then we were just talking about the barrier and what his-” 

Patton, at the thought that maybe Logan’s spells revealed too much, couldn’t help but trail off.

Virgil, his eyes never leaving Patton’s, raised an eyebrow. “His what?”

Patton bit his bottom lip, darting his eyes away for a moment before finally continuing, “He has a lot of… magical detection spells.”

Patton couldn’t ignore how Virgil tensed.

“And- and we got nothing concrete!” Patton rushed out, not stopping to think if that was even true. “Just- just that it’s powerful! And… and for protection?” And, quickly remembering that, no, that had been something Patton suggested, he quickly added, “Or- or just a barrier? Yeah, just a- just a magical barrier!”

Virgil narrowed his eyes. “Patton-”

“Okay, I said that I thought it was for protection!” Patton interjected. “I- Logan asked me how I got in, and I told him that I just could! But we don’t know why!”

“Okay.” Virgil, obviously trying to remain calm, nodded. “Okay. Anything… else?”

Patton debated the next part, debated whether or not that would solidify this potential nail in the coffin.

“Logan can’t figure out what’s powering the spell,” he whispered. “He suggested it might be something within the castle. That- that non-mages can do magic if there’s… enough emotion.”

Virgil, finally breaking eye contact, ran his hands over his face. “Okay… okay.”

“I’m sorry!” Patton pleaded. “I didn’t- we didn’t mean to… to step on any toes! I just didn’t know and Logan- he doesn’t mean any harm! He’s just… he’s nervous, I can tell. So he’s just trying to figure out what’s going on and I can tell him not to pry and I- last night? I didn’t even overhear anything, really! Just- I mean, it makes sense for you all to be keeping secrets! I can’t blame you, I just-”

When Virgil held up a hand, Patton snapped his jaw shut.

“Patton,” Virgil said quietly, “You’re fine.”

“Okay,” Patton whispered.

“I just need you to work with me,” Virgil said, his tone level. “Because I am trusting you, and I am sticking my neck out by doing so.”

“Thank you.” Patton could barely hear his own voice.

Virgil laughed dryly. “I appreciate it, because I’m pleading your case. You don’t… know how bad things can go. And I don’t say that to- to scare you or make you, I don’t know, worship the ground I walk on. It’s just the honest truth. Not everyone trusts you. If other people here had it their way, shit could have broken bad.”

Patton flinched.

“And I-” Virgil shook his head, huffing out another laugh “-I don’t say that to be mean. I didn’t even want to- want to say any of this because I didn’t want you to think you were in danger or something, but… I believe I’m right in trusting you. I believe that you’re a… a good person. And I’m willing to work with you. But I need you to work with me, and that means leaving all this-” And he gestured around him “-To us.”

Patton nodded, swallowing thickly. “I’m sorry.”

Virgil, looking away, ran his hand through his hair again. “Honestly, I should be the one saying that. I feel like an asshole.”

“No!” Patton, shaking his head, took a step forward. “You’re- you’re right! I…” He sighed. “I know what all of this looks like. But I mean it when I say it: I mean no harm to your family.”

Virgil allowed himself a small smile. “And I... believe that.”

Patton smiled, too, but it faltered as another thought crossed his mind “It’s Janus, right?” Virgil furrowed his eyebrows. “Who doesn’t trust me.”

“Oh.” Virgil grimaced. “Uh, yeah, but it’s… complicated.”

“How?” When Virgil eyed him, Patton blushed. “I’m just- I’m curious!”

“You know what they say about curiosity and cats, right?”

“I’m actually allergic to cats so I don’t!”

Virgil covered a laugh with a cough. “Okay, okay,” he said, trying to compose himself again. “You really know how to, ah, lighten the mood, don’t you?”

Patton grinned and shrugged.

“But,” Virgil continued, “Not to bring it right back down but… Janus is very…” He trailed off with a sigh, and Patton could practically see his mind turning over to find the right words. “I don’t- I don’t think he would do anything without cause. Just… he’s really territorial, and really protective.”

“It’s good that he cares for you all so much.”

Virgil shrugged.  “In his own… way. But, speaking of… shit, I shouldn’t even be telling you this, but... there are things that we cannot tell you. Because, honestly? Janus would have our heads. The reason I’m telling you this is so, just like we’re trusting you, you can trust us.”

“And I do,” Patton said, nodding. “Trust you. You…” He smiled, shrugging. “The fact that you’re… pleading my case says enough. And even your brothers! I… I’ll admit, sometimes I’m a bit… scared, but none of you have done anything to me. And I really think that means something.”

Virgil gave another shrug. “We’re all trying to be on our best behavior. To… some degree. Janus can be a lot and I can be like this and don’t even get me started on the twins and-” He then shut his mouth. “I’m… I’ll just shut up.”

Patton smiled. “You’re fine,” he said. “And I… I really do appreciate all of this, Virgil. I know I’ve said that so many times but… it’s because it’s true.” Virgil shifted under his gaze, looking down. “I trust you because I think you’re good.”

Virgil laughed dryly. “Don’t press your luck,” he said. “But… thanks.

Patton jutted a finger at him. “Don’t even try to reject my compliments! Just ask Logan! It never works!”

Virgil held his hands up in defense. “Alright, alright,” he said, chuckling. “But, uh, thanks for listening. And for not… freaking out.”

“Of course!”

“And sorry for being super intense.”

Patton smiled. “Virgil, it’s okay.”

Virgil smiled, too. “Well, I’ll, uh, leave you to it,” he said. “And if you need anything… you know where to find me.”

Patton found himself still smiling even after Virgil left.

When Logan eventually brought himself back to Patton, Patton decided to keep his and Virgil’s conversation to himself. The look of relief on Logan’s face was just a bit too heart cinching to risk that.

If Virgil was helping his brothers come around, Patton believed that he owed them the same. Just… in due time.

[talpup]

Summary: Yami Sukehiro just wanted to join the Magic Knights and make his mentor proud.  He knew there would be trails.  He knew trouble would come his way.  Knew he would be faced with discrimination for being a foreigner and a peasant.  What he didn’t know.  Didn’t expect.  Was that literal Chaos would come his way.  That he and his mentor’s sister would be at the center of world ending trouble.  Or that he would fall in love with his mentor’s sister and face more than discrimination; but the jealously of Nozel Silva who loved the same woman he did.

Please remember this fic is rated mature and has warnings of violence, abuse, sexual tension, eventual sexual behavior, and other possible triggers.  For a full list of story tags please check the fics AO3 (link to that at the top of my tumblrs homepage).

If you read anything I'm offering this week it should be the chat in chapter 87 comments that I had with @XYZ25 over on ao3.

SERIOUSLY!! Their questions are always SO good and never fail to drive and inspire me; but this week things went off on a 'plot bunny' tangent about this fics version of Nozel eventually becoming Wizard King and Solid becoming King.  To better understand Solid becoming king you'd have to read the thread and the way the line of succession works in this fic.

Anyway, I HIGHLY suggest you read the thread.  @XYZ25 came out with the BEST PS that I could totally and WANT to build a fic around.

Chapter 88

Teris woke up squinting at the bright sunlight shining through her bedroom window.  She wondered if only the night had passed or if she had been out longer.  Taking it as a good sign the she was home; she washed her face, brushed her hair, and changed.  She was still filthy and reeked of smoke, but a bath would have to wait until after she found out what happened.

Following her sense of Yami’s mana, she made her way to the Captain's office. Finding the door partially open, she knocked and entered.

“Good. You’re awake.”  Jax greeted.

“Hornsby?” Teris asked, taking a seat next to Yami before the Captain's desk.

“No one was lost but their crops completely were, and the town’s as good a gone.  Hage lost several crop fields but more than half were spared, and the town itself untouched.”  Jax told.

“From the sounds of it the high winds you all had at Hornsby spread the Wild Fire far and fast.  The Sorcery Lance’s that attacked us also didn’t hang around as long, nor did they go around lobbing jars of Wild Fire.”  Yami turned in his chair to face Teris, expression hard as concerned eyes looked her carefully over.  “What the hell were you thinking?”

Teris’ eyebrows furrowed.  “What?”

“I told him how you tackled the Sorcery Lance readying to throw a jar of Wild Fire.”  Jax told Teris.

“Oh.” Teris pulled at a hang nail.  “Sorry.”

“It that an apology or a question?”  Jax complained of her tone.

Upset and concerned as he was, Yami couldn’t stop his smirk.  “She has a knack for that.”

“What the hell were you thinking?”  Jax echoed Yami, scolding Teris.

“I—I didn’t.  I just acted.”  Teris said.

Jax ran a hand roughly over his face.

“Sorry.” Teris said in the same questioning tone.

“Damn right you’re sorry!  You could have died.  Instantly.”  Jax’s throat bobbed at how close he’d come to losing another Vice Captain.  Swallowing the emotion, he joked.  “Where would I have been then?  With Yami as my sole Vice Captain.”

“Captain’s right.  This only works if one of use acts without thinking; and that’s my thing, you can’t have it.”  Yami jested, squashing his needless worry.  Teris was here, safe and alive.

Teris looked between Yami and Jax, easily reading their concern.  This time her apology was genuine.  “I’m sorry.”

“No more leaping at foes throwing jars of Wild Fire.”  Jax told.

Teris couldn’t help but smirk at how crazy it sounded.  But that’s exactly what she had done.  She recalled the mans chard form crumbling to nothing beneath her and wrinkled her nose.  She met Jax’s eyes remembering what the Sorcery Lance that had stood above her said him.

Jax looked away, seeming to read her mind.  He cleared his throat and stood, suddenly needing some air.  “Don’t let her take away and do anymore of my work.”  He told Yami, exiting the office.

Yami grinned at Teris.  “Yes, sir.”

Teris looked after Jax in concern.  She had never known the Captain to date.  Not that she had ever paid attention to his private life.  But if what the Sorcery Lance had alluded to was true; remembering something like that so soon after his best friends death--

“They think the Spade Kingdom started the Wild Fires.”  Yami said, breaking into her thoughts.

“What gave them that idea.  The fact that Sorcery Lances attacked throwing jars of it?”

Yami’s lip twitched upward at her heated sarcasm.  “Greywright said it was cause they wanted us to know they started the Wild Fires and did it in retaliation for Rayla’s death.”

Teris scowled.  It was pointless telling Yami what he already knew.  But even if they had killed Rayla, it would’ve been justified.  Then again Rayla had said her King hadn’t known of her actions.

Teris rubbed her eyes, hoping this mess wouldn’t cause a war.  Along with Sir Jorah, it would be Greywright’s job to make sure that it didn’t escalate to that.  Did she really want such a job?  Would someone come along during her time as Magic Knights Commander and create a similar mess to the one that she and Yami had caused?  She hoped not. Even if Teris didn’t want the job, which she did, she didn’t have much of a choice.  Only the rank of Magic Knights Commander or Wizard King would save her from banishment.  She refused to have Yami fight to free her from her family.  Even if the brother Yami would face was Fyntch and not Julius.

Yami looked Teris carefully over again.  With her not having bathed yet, it was difficult to tell how injured she was.  Clearly there were no terrible wounds and she didn’t appear to be in obvious pain. Still, he wished they could feed off of each others mana.  It had been almost a year since they’d been able to do so.  Almost a year since the Summer Solstice had churned the core of their mana so badly that they couldn’t trust letting their mana get near the others. It was like living in a too small cell; unable to take a full, deep breath.

Yami gripped her wrist, pulling her hand away from her face.  “What’s the matter?  Still weakened from playing catch with Wild Fire?”

Teris would’ve laughed if her head hadn’t been buzzing with everything she had learned the past few days.  Jax’s possible tragic love life the least disconcerting discovery.  She had barely begun to examine what had been done and said while they were captive in Rayla’s lab. She hadn’t even started to process what they’d been told about Advisor Ellara...

She tugged against Yami’s grip till it loosened from her wrist.  Her hand slid down his wrist to hold his hand.  His presence comforted her like nothing else could.  His calm, sure strength sheltered and steadied her.  With Yami, she could do anything.  Face anything.  It had nothing to do with the combination of their magic and the destruction it could cause.  Yami was her anchor in the chaos of this world.  With him at her side.  With him as her home.  She had the inner strength and will to face whatever came their way.

“They lied.”  Teris said.

Yami frowned, eyebrows furrowing.  “Who?”

“Greywright. Sir Jorah.  Julius and Jax too I guess.”  Teris said.

Her hand tightened around his. The other balled into a fists.  Teris didn’t know if the built up mana would have killed Yami, or caused him to experience something similar to what she had gone through on the Summer Solstice; nor did she care.  Rayla had put Yami’s life in danger. Fuegoleon and Nozel had been injured and put in danger as well.  The fact that the Agents of Chaos had been the ones to find and help them left her with a strange mixture of anger, self loathing at her weakness, and a sense of indebtedness.

Swallowing those emotions, Teris said. “After the Summer Solstice, Sir Jorah said they would tell us everything.  From the Agents of Chaos and what they knew of them, down to anyone else who had an interest us. Never once in that telling did they mention the Spade Kingdoms Magical Science division. Yet Greywright clearly knew of their interest when he spoke to Rayla.”

Yami pulled his hand free and leaned forward, forearms resting on his thighs. He hadn’t caught that, and understood why Teris would be upset about it.  They faced so many dangers already.  To learn that there were even more groups wanting at them only added to the danger. Yet what good would knowing do?  Greywright had known of the Spade Kingdoms interest in them and had wound up in Rayla’s lab right along with them.  They had thought they’d known the Agents of Chaos wanted them for the Winter Solstice.  Wrong as they were, the Agents of Chaos had proven they knew exactly where they had been hidden and could get to them.

Yami shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe they forgot.”

“Forgot?” Teris echoed.

Yami scratched the back of his neck and admitted.  “I’ve forgotten the names of all the other groups other than the Agents of Crazies. Maybe they forgot when telling us too.”

“Yami--”

“Do you trust them?”  Yami cut in.

Teris stopped and blinked.

“Do you trust Julius, Jax, and Greywright?”  Yami asked.

“Of course I do.  But--”

“Then it doesn’t matter.”  Yami said over her.  At her expression, Yami plucked at her pant leg.  “We’ve got bigger things, Ikigai.” When she didn’t respond to the nickname in the accustomed way, he sighed.  “What’s this really about?”

Teris looked away.  Learning that yet another group was interested in them. That Yami had been contacted by the page of Chaos at least twice and hadn’t told her.  That the Wizard Kings Advisor was working either for or with the Agents of Chaos, and effecting Sir Jorah to some degree; and Julius, Jax, and Commander Greywright had kept it from them all this time. It was all too much. She was tired.  Tired of the secrets.  Tired of being hunted, wanted, preyed upon because of some supposed primordial power she didn’t understand, hadn’t asked for, and would gladly give up if it meant she and Yami could live in relative safety and peace.

“I don’t like secrets.”  Teris said.

Yami licked his lips.  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the page of Chaos sooner.  I should’ve.”

“Damn right you should have.”  Teris snapped.

Yami’s tender, loving eyes met her fiery ones.  “You were already upset cause of that mess with Rayla.  I didn’t want to worry you more.”

“Don’t you think I can take it?”

“Ikigai.” Yami gave a chucking scoff at the stupidity of such a question.  Of course he thought she could take it.  Teris could take anything.  But just because she could didn’t mean she had to.  It didn’t mean he wanted her to.  What kind of future husband would he be if he didn’t seek to shield and protect the woman he loved?

“What does that mean?”  Teris implored, a slight tired whine entering her voice.

Yami smiled, chuckling further.  “You want me to start keeping record of the times that blasted thing contacts me?”

“Yami.” Teris rolled her eyes.

“Don’t sound that like.  I know how you love your notes.  You’re almost as bad as the paper sniffers in Magic Investigations.”

“Am not!”  Teris playfully smacked him.

Yami laughed.

Teris smiled and shook her head.  “You’re terrible.”

“Terribly in love with you.”

“Stop it.”  Teris blushed.

“It’s true. I’ve got it bad.  Bad enough to be willing to keep some stupid record if you wanted me to.”

“You don’t need to keep record.  But if it starts happening regularly, I expect you to tell me.  I really don’t like secrets.”  Whether it was the timing.  The way Yami was looking at her.  Or the fact the she felt like a total hypocrite having said such a thing.  Teris said. “Nozel kissed me.”  Her eyes widened at her confession, and hurried to explain.  “I didn’t want him to.  It happened a long time ago.  More than a year ago in the stables at Nova House.  I didn’t kiss him back.  I—”

“I know.”  Yami said, ending her babbling explanation.

Teris stared, breath caught in her lungs, leaving her unable to speak.

Yami inhaled deeply, shoulders relaxing as he slowly exhaled. He hadn’t realized there had been a lingering weight from it all until it was gone.  No doubt Teris felt the same relief. His lips twitched slightly upward, though he was unable to hold the smile.  “I’m glad you finally told me.  Glad you finally trusted me enough.”

“I trusted you.”

“Not in this.  Not back then.”

“I—I--” Teris lowered her eyes and mumbled.  “I didn’t know what you would do. I was afraid you might do something that got you in trouble.  Afraid you might think I wanted it and led him on.”

Shaking his head, Yami muttered.  “How can someone so smart be so stupid?”

Teris’ head snapped up at that.

Yami huffed at the temper in her eyes.  “That’s right.  I called you stupid.”  He stood and pulled her up with him.  “Do you think I led Rayla on?  Wanted her to kiss me?”

“What? No.”  Teris said, fiercely.

“Well then?”  Yami’s arms wrapped around her waist. “I mean it when I say I trust you with him, Teris.  That I trust you with anyone.”

Teris hugged him.  Yami was right, she hadn’t trusted him enough in this or else she would have told him sooner.  Guilt over the unwanted kiss and having hid it from him gone, she murmured into his shoulder.  “I love you.”

Yami’s arms tightened around her.  “Thank mana for whoever dropped you on your head.”

Teris pulled back and looked at him.

“It’s the only reason I can find for you loving me.”  Yami said.

“Shut up and kiss me.”  Teris pulled him down and kissed him before he could obey.

88.2

‘Trust me.  I got this.’ Jax’s eyes squeezed shut at the last words he had said to the woman he thought he would marry.  He had been cocky.  A newly promoted Vice Captain taking his girlfriend out on date.  He hadn’t gotten a ring yet but he had been planning to.  And then a team of Sorcery Lance’s, looking for an escaped citizen, had attacked a nearby village.

Of course they had rushed to help.  Jax was a Vice Captain, and Belinda a Senior Magic Knight.

Both Bronn and Julius had told him it wasn’t his fault; their various reasons sound and reasons Jax had given others who had lost a comrade in the filed.  But his friends words had rung hollow.  Belinda had been more than a comrade.  And they hadn’t been out in the field.  They had been on a date.

If only he had pick somewhere else for them to go.  If only he had made them wait for back up.  If only...  If only...  If only...

Jax’s hand closed around a scorched piece of fabric.  Threadbare from years of being carried in his pocket.  From being taken out and rubbed.  It was the only piece he had left of her.  A torn piece of her squad cloak that had ripped when a wave of lava from a Sorcery Lance’s attack had crashed through and took her from him.

Until last night, he hadn’t revisited that horrible day in over three years. Sure she still occasionally came to mind, his hand often drifting into his pocket seeking the last remnant he had of her when she did.  But he had finally stopped reliving the terrible torment of that day.

Or so he thought.

“Thought I’d find you here.”  A familiar voice sounded from behind.

“It was where I use to pick her up when we snuck out of base after lights out.” Jax said, eyes on the scrap of fabric in his closed hand.

“And left me in a sticky situation cause as Vice Captain I was expected to stop such things.”  Julius said.

Jax huffed, slipping the fabric back into his pocket and turned to his friend.  “Doing your duty or looking away while your friend and your future Vice Captain had a secret meet up couldn’t have been an easy decision.”

“It was easier than you think.”  Julius smirked, shrugging a shoulder. His smile fell.  “She would've made a fine Vice Captain.  Certainly more fun and forgiving than Jon.”

Jax nodded, feeling silly at the tears that still gathered after so long.

Julius produced a bottle.  “I brought her favorite drink.”

“That crap.”  Jax laughed, despite himself, remembering how he told Belinda it was nothing more than rotten grape juice.

Julius pulled another bottle out from under his squad cloak.  “I also brought your favored whiskey.”

“Now you’re talking.”

Julius moved beside him.  The two men sat on the ground facing the stream that was part of the border for the Azure Deers property.

Julius watched Jax open what use to be Belinda’s favorite wine.  “I should've been there.  I’m sorry.”

For a moment Jax wasn’t sure if Julius was talking about last night or that terrible day.  Seeking to ease his friend's needless guilt, he threw the bottles cork at him.

“Hey!” Julius wiped at the stain on his shirt.

“Like you can’t use your magic to fix it or buy a thousand new ones.”

“Not if I hope to cover your tab this month cause of that stupid bet.” Julius said.

“You’re only calling the bet stupid cause you lost.”

“Yeah, and?”

Jax chuckled.  “You’re a good friend, Julius.”

“I know.”

“And humble.”  Jax snarked.

Julius smiled, watching Jax lift the bottle of wine to his lips.  “I know that too.”

If you do go to ao3 to read that comment thread, feel free to jump in with any ideas and/or questions.

As always comments and reblogs are VERY MUCH appreciated.

Next chapter snippet:

“Don’t toy with me!  I’ll don’t care what memory mage I have to use. I’ll know everything you do even if it leaves you drooling and catatonic.”  Jax said.

“Just make sure you don’t call upon Advisor Ellara Shaw.”  Iban said, hands lifted in yielding submission.

[inikavulpixelreviews]

Let’s Talk About Pokemon - Gen 8 Retrospective

This Generational recap itself might be a bit on the shorter side, since I already said my peace on the games themselves and their less than stellar impact on the fandom before I even started them. (Not that there isn’t a lot I’m talking about here today though, hoo boy.) Though just know between a repeat playthrough and my opinion on the Pokemon dropping as I've analyzed them more, I'd say my final verdict is that they're a decent enough swan song to the way Pokemon games used to be that made Gym battles feel special again but lacked in a lot of other areas. 6/10 overall.

Though obviously Gen 8 isn't done yet. Since DLC is on the way, as I've said several times already. My general thoughts on the concept of Pokemon DLC replacing the traditional “Third Version” is good. For one thing I'd much rather pay $30 for access to new content immediately over paying another $60 for a “Pokemon Armor” version that had most of its new content back-loaded in the postgame. $30 is still steep... but it's better. And of course, the prospect of releasing more new Pokemon via DLC is a good one too. Hopefully releasing DLC rather than a full game every year will relinquish some of the workload off Gamefreak... so perhaps we can get smaller batches of new Pokemon released mid-generation to help mitigate just how many Pokemon felt like they didn't get finished in time. But also hopefully it'll mean Gen 9 will be all the better when we get there... Gamefreak has stated they're really challenging themselves with the next major Pokemon games so hopefully they're taking the more level-headed criticism to heart and it's not all talk but we'll have to see.

Yeah, that's about all I have to say about the state of Pokemon as of right now, neverminding my multiple rants and tangents since I've already gone to great lengths to state that Gen 8 isn't as good as I might've initially thought. I still like it overall, and it's probably still not my least favorite Gen... but it's very much like Gen 4 with an EXTREMELY mixed bag. Certainly felt like for every excellently designed Pokemon they had below-average flunky that feels like it should've gone back to the drawing board once or twice. But even all that aside, one of my more annoying sticking points with Gen 8 is the severe lack of new animals.

So in place of my usual ramblings on my thoughts on a generation as a whole, let's do a little Compare and Contrast. Let's look at the past few Generations and see just how noticeable this flood of species redo's is. Green checks are significantly new enough animals, Red crosses are for animal origins that have been done before, Yellow slashes for Pokemon with vague or heavily mixed taxonomic origins, and Grey circles for Pokemon that are disqualified for being Objectmon, since we've yet to get repeats of those. (Also disqualifying Gen 8's regional evos other than Obstagoon since it's not necessarily their fault that they're repeats.)

Are there arbitration in places? Probably. But I feel like the point still stands that Gen 8 was waaaaay too reliant on touching up on animals already covered in Pokemon before. Especially when there's still so many animals that have yet to get a Pokemon to their name. The one plus Gen 8 does have in this regard is that it has a few more “taxonomically vague” Pokemon than usual. But repeating animals in and of itself isn't all that bad, if you make the repeat different enough to be interesting in its own right. The one thing you could do wrong in that regard is to just make your monster notably more “normal” compared to the Pokemon it's repeating. So how does that hold up?

As much as I've established that one's a crow and the other's a raven, the two animals are still very much similar creatures. But I do feel like Murkrow and Corviknight are differentiated enough while both still being a “fantasy” creature in their own way. Murkrow is very much a gangly, cartoony crow while Corviknight covers the more majestic side of corvids.

Another one that's pretty blatant is that we now have two regions with a Ladybird as the common bug. Orbeetle does however get to be more accurate to the Ladybird life cycle, starting out with a larvae and ending with the beetle. Again, Ledian and Orbeetle are very different flavors of the same creature, Orbeetle not skimping out on any outlandish elements. In fact, it's more visibly outlandish than Ledian was.

This is where things start to get hazy. I've stated that Nickit and Thievul are sadly my least favorite fox Pokemon to date, simply because it has the least to offer imaginatively than all the other foxes that accompany it. Ninetales has the kitsune thing going on, while its Alolan variant covers Arctic Foxes. Zorua is a fantastical take on the tricky nature of foxes by combining aspects of shapeshifting kitsunes or tanookies while throwing in a bit of Kabuki. And Fennekin grows up to be more of a wizard. Thievul is very much a stereotypical red fox while having the trickster nature of foxes that's not only been done by Zorua before, but also in a much more stereotypical thieving way like a Swiper the Fox sort of thing.

Wooloo always struck me as odd ever since it turned out it wasn't the region's common Normal-type. I can excuse plainness in the common woodland animal since they're rather uniformly not terribly interesting (and arguably are like that by design). So it turns out it's more of a common early-game fodder just like Mareep is, but Mareep is just a smidge more interesting by being elemental, and also it turns into Ampharos, a weird little bipedal lamb with little flippers for some reason. Which is reasonably more imaginative than a Pokemon that's mostly just a sheep.

Sandaconda is another one that feels significantly fantastical and unique compared to its previous serpentine cousins. The only snake Pokemon beforehand that was hugely different from the template of what a snake usually is was Snivy. Sandaconda is even unique as far as cobra monsters go, with its “hood” being a big ol' sac that it keeps its projectile Anakin-repelent in.

Centiskorch is a little iffy. It's cool that they turned a real centipede's grappling maneuver and turned it into an even more effective weapon via its heat spots. But in terms of body shape it's significantly more normal looking for a centipede than Scolipede's almost horse-like proportions, isn't it?

Another iffy comparison since they're both fairly “regular” looking Octopus monsters. But even so, I'd count it as a point against Gen 8 since there's been more than plenty of time to come up with a cool and unique body type for an octopus.

That's better! Eiscue, while normal-looking if you only count the penguin body, is still a funny and imaginative take on a penguin monster that is a completely different flavor from Empoleon's stern look to boot.

Another dodgy one to justify. There's neat theming in there, but there's hardly any denying that an elephant that rolls up into a wheel and rolls around is notably a much weirder take on an elephant that Copperajah going by an elephant's body shape to a T.

Had they gone for a look more purposefully weirdly geometric like they SEEM to be going for, I probably would've given it a hand-wave, but even with that in mind, Copperajah is pretty vanilla in terms of Elephant monsters. Especially compared to Donphan.

...So even then, it's pretty mixed in that regard. Some Pokemon feel like worthwhile additions to the biodiversity, but others I can't help but wonder what the point was. Did Wooloo really need to exist in a series that already had Mareep? Couldn't they push Copperajah's concept further to better contrast with Donphan? Having repeats isn’t BAD, pretty sure every Gen past the 2nd has done them. But it’s hard to find sticking points on Gen 6 and 7′s repeats. Aurorus is totally different from Meganium. Vikavolt, while being much more close to realism in body structure compared to Pinsir, is still a vastly different fantasy creature just on account of having a gun for a face. And the whole Goomy line is almost nothing like Magcargo. And all that is WHILE still bringing in plenty of new animals to play with.

So yeah, I hope all that can help with understanding why I was a little harsh on Gen 8. It's still not my least favorite, cause we still got a ton of good out of it, and I would much rather have a mixed Gen of “Some Really Good, Some Not So Great” over Gen 2 and 4's “Some are good but the rest are really plain and boring.” But of course, as per usual, we gotta do the lists...

Top 10 Favorites of Gen 8:

Like I said, the new Pokemon that are good are REALLY good. Still struggled to make a Top 10, for good reason!

Top 10 Favorites Overall:

That said, there wasn’t a ton of impact on my Top 10. Top 50 maybe, but not here.

Bottom 10 Least Favorites of Gen 8:

Sadly there was plenty I was just plain not a fan of. Has there ever been a Gen where I just straight up dislike the whole Bottom 10? Hmm...

Bottom 10 Least Favorites Overall:

And tragically, this Gen did make a pretty deep cut into my least favorites, oof. It is an unholy image to not see Gallade be all the way to the left up there.

The Cutest:

The Coolest:

The Prettiest:

Corviknight and Eternatus aren’t just there because I ran out of traditionally pretty ones, just so you know. There’s something about a sleek, nearly all-black design that is genuinely gorgeous-looking to me.

The Spookiest:

Most Creative:

Weirdest/Most Unique:

Most Forgettable:

Most Personality:

At least there were still plenty of personality-driven designs! Look at all these adorable little charmers and smug little shits.

Most Under-Appreciated:

Best Regional Variants:

I’ve probably said it already but I am legitimately ecstatic with Regional Variation being a mainstay feature now. There is INFINITE potential with the concept and totally didn’t deserve to get ditched after a single use just in Alola. In fact I think it’d be rad if they do any more remakes they retroactively made “Sinnohan” or “Hoenn” forms of Pokemon. I thought they might’ve made some “Kantonian” forms for Pokemon in Let’s Go and redesigned a few modern Pokemon to look a bit like they were designed back in the 90s... but sadly that didn’t happen. Despite how cool it would’ve been. But Kanto is sacred ground that cannot ever be changed, I guess...

Best Ultra Beasts: (????????????????)

h

Best G-Maxes:

I still love the concept of G-Maxes, and we’ll probably get a few more before Gen 8 is done entirely. But it does stink that the concept in the end felt a little half-baked. Speaking of which...

Pokemon That SHOULD'VE Gotten G-Maxes:

Because G-Maxes wound up being locked to only be for Gen 1 or 8 Pokemon, with only a handful of exceptions. MAYBE they’ll stretch into other Gens in the DLC, but until then lemme just make a personal wishlist of SQUANDERED potential. Though I’ll limit myself to Pokemon that are only in the current Galardex as to not be here all day.

I’m sure if you pay attention to the Fakemon scene at all, you’ve already seen a few G-Max Dhelmises where the seaweed has grown so massive that it’s now able to possess an entire haunted ship. And they are CORRECT to make such a thing because GOD what were they thinking NOT doing that?!? It’s right there under your noses!!!

Still bummed there was never a Mega Vanilluxe... but this could easily make up for it! A towering snowing mountain of ice cream is a super cool idea for a kaiju-size ice cream monster, maybe even ditching the icicle shaped cone in favor of having it rest in a “bowl” of ice!

Like??? Hello????? Are you telling me you’re making Kaijumon over here and you’re NOT gonna make a giant mecha?????????????????

Because a giant living beehive deploying swarms upon swarms of Combee is a badass concept just by itself.

Like c’mon this one was REALLY staring you in the face. A region set in Poke-England and you’re not gonna make a funny giant Zeppelin?

Just trying to imagine a colossal haunted chandelier is giving me chills by itself. Especially if you were to make it look elaborately regal and all that.

I’ve not got a specific idea, you’d just think they’d compensate for the lack of a Mega form.

G-Max Rillaboom has me feeling like this one’s likely to not happen, since I imagined a cool idea for a G-Max Trevenant was to make it a giant Deku-Tree looking haunted tree with a colossal trunk and even bigger canopy.

I guess Butterfree already had the spot taken for “Mothra stand-in”, but I feel like Frosmoth has just as much cool potential for a G-Max form as Butterfree did. Especially with the powdery snow scales it has.

Perfect opportunity to give Goodra a giant, more monstrous slug-like form. But no dice there either. Maybe next form gimmick...

Okay, C’MON. We KNOW they weren’t that bothered about giving G-Max forms out to Pokemon that already had Megas. This is the most obvious one of all! ESPECIALLY since its defacto-Mecha Godzilla got a G-Max but it didn’t.

Most “Unfinished” Feeling:

Since “least favorite” doesn't necessarily meant “unfinished.” (As much as I dislike Toxel, it doesn't really strike me as “not done.”) Not that I have clairvoyance on Gamefreak's internal workings, but some of these Pokemon definitely feel like they're not up to scratch with the series's usual quality standard.

My Disappointment is Immeasurable and My Day is Ruined:

To pick on Gen 8 one last time... and since it was a running gag anyway, here's the Pokemon that just crush my dreams the most. Except Appletun, mostly. It's good enough to be let off the hook. The rest? They were things that were on my wishlist of things and animals I would've LOVED to see get turned into Pokemon, only for my hopes and dreams to sink faster than the Titanic. Considering a majority of concepts within Pokemon don't come back, if not for a very long time, these Pokemon mean that I have to reluctantly strike a cake monster, a snowman, a coal monster, a train monster, a sea urchin, a pie monster, and some fresh Lapras attention off my wishlist. Sigh.

With two rounds of DLC coming, the main Pokemon review series probably won't be back until the tail end of this year shortly after Crowned Tundra is released. I am excited to get to talk about some of what they've shown so far, but I'd rather wait until the content is released and we know everything about the new Pokemon and Regionals. There will however be at least one more little bonus article about Gen 8 and the future of the series, but I wouldn't expect it to be out for a while. Before the DLC is out probably, but still a long ways off.

[Archive]

[liveonmtv]

cash machine || kth

pairing: kim taehyung/f!reader genre: fluff & humor. crack actually. crack cocaine. word count: 11.1k warnings: strong language, drinking, an unwated kiss (not from tae), unsanitary jokes (i’m immature), implied sex, vomiting extra: (fr)enemies to lovers, road trip au, rich kids au but it’s barely there also they’re on summer vacation, also this story takes place in the usa JUST to drag the trip out tbh

summary: Jungkook and Seokjin get a little problematic, you have anger issues and Taehyung is under the impression that he killed a man. Also, did you mention that you’re on your way to your unfunny cousin’s wedding? Go on a road trip from Missouri to Las Vegas and you’ll be in for a hilarious yet scary experience! 

a/n: hi! i’m just starting this account out, so reblogging would mean a lot to me. i’m a novice to writing, so criticism is welcome as long as you’re not rude about it. have fun reading (i hope)! i also have a jungkook fic planned next (:

song

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Jungkook has that look in his face, the one he makes where the person sitting opposite of him is about as depraved as he is. He’s given it to you while you were explaining to him how to scam desperate men under the preface of a faux premium Snapchat and he’s given it to Jimin when they were finishing their high school careers and decided to release grasshoppers in the principal’s office. 

However, if there’s one person that’s about as fucked up in the head as he is, it’s Seokjin. The man also suffers from SMSTS as well (Serious Misconception of Sexual Tension Syndrome, and yes, that’s quite a lot of s’s), which doesn’t hurt given the current affairs. 

While Jungkook is aware that Jimin and Hoseok are always up for a bit of mischief, he has ruled them both out as incompetents and moved on to the real deal. Jimin has these rare moments of sanity and Hoseok, as your most loyal little bitchboy, would probably tattle the situation with made-up details to you before the plan is even set in action. 

So, Seokjin it is. 

The story begins in a faraway land before Jungkook knew about the tragic facets of your family’s relationships. Though his friend group is on good terms with your siblings and your other close relatives are aware of their existence and somehow only have good things to say about them, he never thought they’d be invited to your cousin’s wedding. To be fair, you had to do some serious persuasion for your family to allow you to invite six more people to somebody else’s wedding so there’s that factor contributing, but still, the offer is out of the blue.

Somewhere along the way, you went on a tangent about how much you hate your cousin and how your aunt doesn’t have eyebrows and how bothersome it is to look at her face. Your horror stories were mostly you just being your usual dramatic self, but they also revealed that the [L/n]s aren’t what they appear to be. 

You begged and begged for them to accept the invitations, and though Namjoon and Yoongi, unfortunately, couldn’t make it, the others agreed. 

Then arose the problem of the sixth spot that couldn’t be filled. You would’ve just let it be but your parents insisted that if you’re going to ask for something, you should fulfill it until the end. It was Namjoon you’d asked to come first, but he was busy with visiting family back in Seoul, and Yoongi then declared that he didn’t feel like humoring you this once. And that was the exact moment Jungkook decided to strike.

“You want to play matchmaker?” Jin asks. And though he looks almost skeptical, his tone is definitely an excited one. “With [Y/n] and Tae, of all people?” 

“Well yes, think about it logically,” he explains as he is about to say something completely illogical. “She has that sixth spot to fill, she has no other friends and they’re perfect for each other. All the other shit we’re gonna pull is just for fun, though.”  

Jin laughs an evil laugh, always one to be up for evil schemes. Just another evil day in the evil life of Kim Seokjin. “Well, [Y/n] is Tae’s perfect mean girl. And that girl needs either therapy or to get laid, but like, same.” 

“See? You get me.”

“To be fair, I think that goes for all of us. No offense.” 

“None taken,” Jungkook agrees. “Anyways, I was thinking of a… road trip.” 

“Well you didn’t have to be so dramatic about it, this isn’t The Godfather. Though I do feel like I’ve definitely got a bit of Michael Corleone in me.” 

Jungkook shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly at the other fiend’s remark. “You can pray to god all you want. Here in these streets, the only thing we believe in is El Chapo.” 

“I— Okay…” 

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[11:05] LeBruh James: wtf is wrong with u

[11:05] LeBruh James: get help seriously

[11:06] jk the slump god: all i said was that u should invite taehyung as the 6th person to ur cussin’s wedding 

[11:06] jk the slump god: overreacting arent we 

[11:10] LeBruh James: what the hell is a cussin bitch im gonna kill u

[11:13] jk the slump god: not like u have anyone else to invite tho 

[11:13] jk the slump god: hes not that bad ur just being urself

[11:14] LeBruh James: ur literally Not helping ur case rn

[09:45] LeBruh James: none of the girls want to gooooo

[09:45] LeBruh James: fine if it has to be taehyung ig ill live w it

[10:30] jk the slump god: great he already said yes

[10:30] jk the slump god: btw we’re gonna go in las vegas at the end of a road trip u in?

[10:33] LeBruh James: HE SAID YES BEFORE I EVEN INVITED HIM…

[10:33] LeBruh James: EYE. OK.

[10:33] LeBruh James: on one hand i kind of dont want to see any of u but if ur all gone i wont have anything to do b4 the wedding so i guess im in by proxy

[10:34] jk the slump god: lovely doing business with u y/n-chan

[10:36] LeBruh James: call me y/n-chan again and I Will Put ur Dick-Chan in a Freezer-sama and then Cut-san it off

[10:39] jk the slump god: i dont think ur using the honorifics correctly tbh..

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“I don’t see how this is a good idea,” you state with a dramatic pout while looking out of the window. Your expression is solemn. 

Taehyung kind of can’t believe that you’re throwing a tantrum just because you had to sit next to him in the three-row SUV, but on the other hand, he’s kind of into it. You’re more appalled by the fact that he’s not as disgusting up close as you’d imagined him to be. Well granted, you’re being immature, but it’s your shtick so they take it with a grain of salt.

“Why’s that?” Jungkook asks obtusely. He ruined your life the moment he started calling you [Y/n]-chan and he has that bad case of crazy eyes he gets sometimes when you look at his reflection in the mirror going on right now. You’d be more understanding of his condition, hadn’t your trip started barely five minutes ago. 

“What do you mean why is that? We’re all unstable backstabbing lunatics, do you think we can survive together for six whole days?! Stranded or even in a hotel? And then the ride back to Springfield?”

“Hotel? You’re funny. It’s always been my dream to sleep in a motel,” Jin pipes up. 

“Seriously? No limo, now this.”

“Hotel, motel, holiday inn,” Hoseok starts singing. Perhaps if it was queen Britney, it would’ve curbed your temper but fate doesn’t seem to be that kind. 

“Hotel, motel, holiday inn! Hotel, motel, holiday inn! Hotel, motel, holiday inn!” 

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“So we’re not going to visit the Grand Canyon?” 

“It’s in Nevada,” Jimin explains. “We don’t have any business there except for going to the wedding. I’d be more down to do it if I wasn’t afraid that one of us, meaning [Y/n], would push one of the others, meaning you, in the gutter.” 

“Just a little visit?” Taehyung is talented at only hearing what he wants to hear. However, that doesn’t make the conversation any more productive.

“Well not to be the acrophobic buzzkill, but why are you so adamant about visiting the Grand Canyon?” This is the first time you’ve directly addressed Taehyung since the beginning of these mind-numbing two hours. Jin, hands still on the wheel, dares to take a peek at Jungkook and smile an asshole-type smile before almost accidentally crashing into a pole. 

“Watch the road!” Hoseok cries out. Everyone else either refuses to acknowledge what just occurred or decides to spare themselves from doing so.

“Jin says that he always wanted to sleep in a motel. I have another dream.” 

“To visit the Grand Canyon?”

“Not exactly. I want to take a shit in there and see if I can hear it splatter. Think that’s possible?”

“Maybe if you angle your butthole the right way—” Jimin’s explanation is cut short.

“Oh my god, you are disgusting. Shut up. I don’t want to hear it.”  

“What did I tell you about El Chapo, [N/n]?” 

“What about El Chapo?”

“Holy shit, I think I’m confusing conversations,” Jungkook admits. Jin offers no more than an eye-roll.

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Tulsa is a dump, really. Unfortunate that you had to make a stop here but also you’re satisfied because your right asscheek feels numb right now. Might have to take Kelly for a walk, though.  

Taehyung stumbles out of the vehicle after you and all six of you seize each other fleetingly before making your way towards the gas station, a tense sort of silence following. You’re first to speak up. “Y’know, I’ve been listening to your voices for so long now that I don’t wanna look at your faces.” 

“This tbh,” Hoseok agrees with your most profound sentiments as per the usual. He’s quick to match your pace, trailing after you like a lost puppy, successfully getting Taehyung out of his way. He puts his arm around your shoulders casually and you give him that sardonic smile that’s only really reserved for him.

“Don’t say tee-bee-aytch out loud. I get humiliation by proxy.” 

Jungkook makes an exaggerated gagging sound before nudging Taehyung subtly enough that Jin is the only one who sees the interaction. Though the eldest had agreed with his deranged idea, there’s one thing that Kook knows that Jin hasn’t come to find out. 

Taehyung has an ongoing problem or maybe he’s a masochist. He’s always been one to internally get attached to these girls who’d never give him the time of day, who can’t stand him at all. The tragedy-comedy that is his best friend’s love life started on a rainy day in second grade when a girl by the name of Seulbi punched him in the face and he was hooked on her for three years after. 

After the infamous Seulbi, came Yeonji from the cheerleading club who blew off his invite to his first-ever party when they were fifteen. She’d called him a loser to his face and he was smitten with her for a while, too. 

And then, you appeared in his life seemingly out of nowhere. Hoseok’s catty best friend with a tongue sharper than her stilettos and lipstick that goes perfectly with her skin tone. 

Of course, he was aware of your existence prior to that accident he calls his first conversation with you—be it from the exciting yet flat-out brain dead antics Hoseok would describe you’d gotten caught up in at the time or from the sound of your heels sinking into the floor promptly before you entered math class.  You were always late but claimed that the teacher should be grateful because you cut in line to arrive at school earlier. You always had one of those shitty overrated pumpkin spice lattes in your manicured hands. 

Simply put, Taehyung likes you. Though after your disastrous first meeting during which, blunt-natured and seemingly lacking a sense of self-preservation, he called you a stuck up moron and you threatened to make an attempt at his life. With your bullheaded nature, things never did solve themselves after that one instance.

It’s not something that he’s expressed outwardly, but Jungkook knows him better than he knows the back of his hand. Unfortunately, he knows you too, even if not as well and he knows how you can’t get a boyfriend because you either scare them away or you find out they’re only after a quick fuck and some money. 

Regardless, Jungkook writes off his inner ramblings as irrelevant before turning to Jin in what could be described as a conspirative manner. While clumsily handing the cashier gas money, he whispers something in the other man’s ear and Jin’s eyes literally twinkle like he’s in a low-budget porno. 

He nods, furiously so, and the cashier simply stares at them like they’re two idiots that somehow merged into one. It’s not a pretty sight. 

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“What? We’re sleeping out here?” Your whining is to be expected by now. Had any of your friends written an actual, physical, list of all the things you’ve complained about so far, it’d probably fill a notebook. Thankfully enough, said list remained as a mental compilation of your not-so-epic moments. “What about the motel?” 

“Oh, so now you want a motel?” Jin quips back with a smirk. “They always come ‘round.” 

Despite his boasting and apparent eagerness to go to a motel, that doesn’t change the fact that you all find yourselves in a campsite. You’re not an outdoor person save for going to parties or on a shopping spree with Hoseok. And well, your surroundings are a bit too green right now.

Taehyung is the next person to speak up, with a tense posture and his arms crossed over his chest, almost defiantly so. “Honestly, if you don’t want to be here, I don’t understand why you keep coming to these things.”

“Well, I don’t understand why I had to invite your dumb ass here either. I guess the inner machinations of my mind are an enigma.” 

“Yeah, I thought Namjoon or Yoongi would be more fitting for your taste of guest,” he says, outright taunting you now, as if to remind you of your failed love rendezvous with your now close friends. 

“Well yeah, but they both denied, so I had to invite you.” 

“Ah,” he gives a slight sigh and you dismiss the sadness you register in his voice as something deserved for annoying you, “that does make more sense. Lucky me, I guess.”

“Awkies,” Jungkook announces as if it’s something that needs to be announced. Hoseok simply shrugs, and though you’re definitely not looking forward to sleeping out in the woods, he seems excited to try something new. 

There’s something hilarious about seeing a bunch of upper-class kids trying to set up tents and start a fire. You’ve converted to the cavemen with Hoseok, seemingly unaware that engaging in a one-sided debate with a bundle of sticks won’t make them randomly engulf in flames while Hoseok is trying out a trick he saw in the movies.

Honestly, it’s enough of a miracle that you actually went out in the woods and helped without tripping your silly ass and getting lost among the catacombs. Granted, Hoseok would’ve been compassionate enough to look for you had you gotten lost, but you probably wouldn’t get over the trauma of being covered in mud. 

Taehyung notices you both struggling. Part of him wants to make amends with you and a bigger part of him wants to leave Jimin to scramble on his own. Not that he’s sadistic or anything, he just likes seeing others suffer sometimes for entertainment purposes. 

Anyways. 

He approaches casually, like the kind of casual where you can tell that the person has an ulterior motive that they don’t want to reveal. Hoseok appears happy to see him, like he’s a savior on a white horse, while you don’t acknowledge him that much except for a sharp question regarding what he wants. 

He greets the older boy with one of these grins you won’t admit you enjoy looking at before roaming through the pockets of his jacket. Now that you’ve noticed him wearing one, you come to the sudden realization that it is getting quite breezy. 

Taehyung has the habit of scrunching his nose when he’s looking for something and then unconsciously smile broadly after succeeding in finding it. You don’t like that you’re aware of that and you especially don’t like that you can pinpoint the repetitive action.

It appears that Taehyung was looking for a lighter, of all things. 

“I thought you quit smoking?” You simply give him an incredulous look. 

He doesn’t grace you with an answer. Though he doesn’t reek of the putrid smell, you’re still hoping that the answer to that question is yes. Instead of soothing your curiosity, however, he uses the lighter to ignite a spark in the firewood and you guess that it’ll have to do.

“Well, that was quite pathetic,” you comment unhelpfully. 

“Better than Hobi’s attempts and uh, whatever the fuck you were doing.” 

Hoseok is enthusiastic to announce that the bonfire’s ready. You watch the clumsily prepped three tents in disinterest, not bothering to defend your attempt at enchantment to him. “Hoseokie, you’re gonna share a tent with me right?” 

“Hoseokie,” Jin repeats, but in good fun, “I thought you were gonna crash with me tonight?”

You roll your eyes before redirecting your gaze towards Jimin and Jungkook. By the guilty smile Jungkook gives you, you can tell he doesn’t plan on letting Jimin out of his clown clutches. You narrow your expression and jut your lip out disapprovingly. 

“Well, Mr. Handsome,” Jin interrupts whatever you have to say with a thank you, “since you and Kook have been jointed by the assholes since we got here, I don’t see what the problem is.” 

“I think you’re just saying that because you don’t wanna sleep with Tae,” Hoseok comments obliviously. 

“What he said. Also, these crackwhores are planning something, and I’m going to find out what.”

“Well, you’re in tough luck because Hoseok promised,” Jin argues, emphasizing the word promise. He has a shit-eating grin on his face and he’s not even denying your accusation. 

Taehyung coughs once. The second time is overkill and sounds even faker than the first one. “Sorry, but if [Y/n] isn’t comfortable sharing the tent with me, it doesn’t really matter what Hoseok promised.” 

You gape at him. This is probably the first intelligent thing that you’ve heard come out of his mouth. You almost reconsider your treatment of him after that, but then you remember that a guy being half-decent isn’t something you’re supposed to celebrate. You suppose that even he looks like a saint compared to some of your exes.

Everyone notices the conflict on your face but doesn’t say anything about it. Jin admits that Taehyung’s right with a wail yet the tension doesn’t dissolve, somehow. You excuse yourself by declaring that you’re going to get the blankets out of the SUV. 

“Damn, that bad huh?” Jungkook laughs. It’s the hyena laugh that kind of doesn’t suit his face but also the one he does when he’s having fun for no good reason. 

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“I heard in the girls’ bathroom once that this girl went on a diet where she only eats bananas for three months. Like, five a day,” you explain while you munch on your banana in front of the bonfire. Needless to say, you’ve come out to be severely underprepared in terms of food on your first day. 

“That sounds like a strategy to make yourself unhinged,” Hoseok retorts. He believes your story but he’s skeptical about that banana business. “I’d never do that.” 

“Me neither. Diets are stupid, anyway, can’t a bitch eat?” 

Jungkook reaches over and high-fives you, looking at you like you’ve just invented air or some shit. “Amen to that sister.” 

“By the way, what’s the plan for tomorrow?” Jimin is the one to speak up this time. 

“I have quite the plan for you, alright,” Jin laughs. His next statement, however, is the embodiment of his immature nature. “But that banana talk had me all distracted.”

Everyone collectively groans. You’re not really sure if what he said would classify as a dad joke at this point; you’re now entering single-and-desperate-dad joke territory. Can’t say that you’d enjoy it coming from someone else, but Jin is Jin.

“Anyways,” he dismisses his previous remark with an easy-going smile and a wave of his hand in thin air, “we’re going to a breakfast place first thing in the morning. By foot.” 

His grin is mischievous. You think this is the worst idea he’s had yet and no one else present seems attracted by the prospect of it either, so you vocally oppose him with a raised brow. “Don’t you realize how likely it is we’ll get lost?” 

“Yeah, I also don’t wanna walk too much.” Hoseok’s always one to back you up.

“Technology doesn’t lie, [Y/n].”

“If technology doesn’t lie how come I had a D on my maths test in junior year when I used Photomath?” 

Hoseok agrees, remembering the incident. That day was truly one of sorrow. 

“Technology only lies if you’re gullible enough,” Jin now changes the narrative. 

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You sneak out of your and Hoseok’s tent with a brief explanation thrown over your shoulder. Something about getting your make-up wipes from the trunk. Hoseok mutters inspiring words of advice—be careful, it’s dark and who knows what animal puke is on the ground—and you stumble your way to the SUV. 

Shoving the keys in the hole proves to be a difficult task, however. You aimlessly jut it in, hoping to hit the correct place by some sort of miracle. This is the moment that you realize that your eyes aren’t so good at adapting to the darkness. 

“Hey, what’re you doing?”

You jump up out of pure reflex. Startled, you whip around with a bemused look on your face. You’re gonna get wrinkles, damn it. 

“Woah, girl jumps in heels,” Taehyung comments dryly. 

“Don’t sneak up on me, you idiot cokehead,” you retort. You’re not sure why you said that. He’s not a cokehead. 

“No, but seriously, what’re you doing?” 

“I’m trying to look for my make-up wipes.” 

Taehyung takes the keys from you. Without half as much fumbling as you’d done previously, he opens the trunk and you proceed with looking through your purse, only to come to the conclusion that you’ve forgotten your make-up lines somewhere. There’s now a new resolve, clear as day in your twisted mind—you have to find the supermarket you passed by on your way here and buy new ones.

“Did you find them?”

“No.” You scoff. An angry thaw and the trunk is now closed. “I’m going to buy some.” 

“Woah, calm down tiger. Can’t you just sleep with it?” 

“No! Do you know how bad that is for your skin?” 

“Well, we could find a river and you could wipe your face with the dirty water.” 

You give him a blank stare, barely suppressing a small giggle. “Do you understand how ridiculous you’re being?” 

“I’m being ridiculous?”

Silence.

“...You’re not planning to go off in the woods during the dawn of asscrack, right?” 

“The what? Yeah.”

Taehyung looks towards your tent only to see that the light is completely shut down. Hoseok must be asleep already. “I’ll go with you.” 

You roll your eyes. “Do whatever you want.” 

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“So, why do you hate your cousin so much?” Taehyung asks abruptly from behind you. 

Most of your walk has been a silent one, so far, except for an occasional grumble from you and an absentminded one-liner from him. There’s also the sound of sticks crumbling under your high-heels that’s slightly irritating. 

“Because she’s unfunny,” you reply seriously.

“You have issues.” This is probably the least significant reason someone has ever hated somebody else for, in the entire history of hatred. Strangely enough, however, Taehyung can’t help finding it endearing how outlandish you can be.

“I’m sorry, I must have Alzheimer’s because I don’t remember asking,” you snap with a roll of your eyes. 

“You know, I have a dog,” he begins dramatically. “And sometimes he shits on the carpet and one time he puked on me, but I still love him very much. He’s gang, you feel?” 

“I don’t see how that helps with my family situation.”

“I never said it’s supposed to help, I just wanted to talk about myself.” He snickers. You’re getting the most violent of urges. 

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Leering over the thin metal fence that looms over an otherwise mundane hill gives you an idea. Down the admittedly high hill, the supermarket is obnoxiously lit up. However, the hideous sight doesn’t deter you—this is what your nirvana looks like in the given moment.

With one bold move, you lift your leg up the fence and Taehyung considers you, your motives and perhaps even your life until now. “What are you doing?” 

“It’ll be faster if I go down the hill.” 

“You’re gonna break your ankles in these shoes,” he rebuts, his voice a tilted monotone. “Also, I can see your underwear like this.” 

“Perveeeeert.” This is your final taunt before you do make it over the short fence and onto the other side. Examining the hill from up close—but not before you roll your miniskirt down—you come to two conclusions. The first one is that it’s quite steep and the second one comes when you’re one step down, that maybe, just maybe, you’re a bit deranged.

With your back turned to him, you don’t get to see Taehyung experiencing the five stages of grief. There’s obvious conflict on his face and to be precise, his current dilemma is between worry for you and a lack of power to stop you. Perhaps had you turned around, you’d find the sight entertaining.

His movements are leisurely once he does get in motion. Taehyung’s plan is to simply help you up now that he noticed that you’re hesitating to go further than you’ve already gone. 

His voice cutting through the night’s silence startles you. “Hey, you really shouldn’t do this.” 

You stumble. 

As tragic as that is, there’s something else to placate you; you’ve never seen Taehyung move so fast. Not even during the blip test in high school. The rest of his actions are less endearing—he throws you over his shoulder carelessly, stumbles onto the sidewalk and drops you like it’s hot. And then your legs are a bit wobbly, but you pretend they aren’t. 

The unnerving silence remains all the way to the supermarket, then back to the campsite and even when Taehyung’s awkwardly using his phone as a flashlight in your face while you remove your make-up. There’s nothing to say, except maybe if he were to ask you a question that’s not to your liking.

(He’s not that bad.)

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Jin is in a hurry, but you’re not sure what for. It’s been practically less than a day since you started this road trip, but it feels longer. You’re conflicted about how to feel regarding that, but even so, Jimin and Hoseok’s enthusiasm is hard to ignore. 

The feline smile on your face drops the moment Jungkook basically drags you out of your tent, bare-faced and severely underdressed. Well, to be honest, you blend in with them just fine, but in your head, you’re severely underdressed. Something more boujee is usually your style, but you realize your predicament won’t magically change the longer you’re walking in what feels like the middle of nowhere. 

Tusla is gross, yes, but maybe Oklahoma is just gross in general. 

When you’re unhappy, you don’t get shy about it—honesty is the best policy, after all. So you’re going on one of those annoying tangents you like to go on like it’s second nature to you. Maybe it is. 

Taehyung drones out whatever it is you’re saying the moment you start talking about a pimple in your nostril that has hair growing out of it. He’s not particularly grossed out by this revelation, rather, he doesn’t like listening to you go on and on about everything you don’t like about yourself. 

“And I couldn’t put on that necklace you got me for my birthday,” you complain before linking your arms with Hoseok’s and feigning a sniff.

“That is pretty horrible,” he hums in agreement. “I think I have a rash on my thigh.” 

“See, if Jungkook wasn’t being horrible I could probably get some kinda product to smear on it.”

Taehyung feigns a loud yawn. Tagging along with you and Hoseok isn’t as tiring as he’d like to make it out to be. 

“What’re you yawning so blatantly for? I hate being interrupted.” You roll your eyes cockily. 

“Sorry, I almost fell asleep during this uninteresting speech of yours.”

You fume again and Hoseok reassures you with something along the lines of don’t worry, [Y/n], it’s very interesting. Then, silence follows. It always seems to end up like this between the two of you. 

“Well, if it helps,” Taehyung starts, tone breezy, “you’re still beautiful.” 

You feel your face heat up. Sure, boys have given you plenty of compliments before—you’re no stranger to it—hot, sexy and maybe pretty on a good day. But beautiful? Especially without any make-up on? This is definitely something new. 

Hoseok smiles. “Yeah, he’s right.” 

You don’t want to admit just how flattered you really are. “Of course I am.”

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You take the first thing you find to your liking once you reach the breakfast place. Actually, it’s more brunch than it is breakfast, but all that walking is making you starve so you don’t feel particularly inclined to be hung up on semantics. 

“It’s on me.” Jungkook sweeps in smoothly, giving you a flashy smile. 

“Fuck off. I’m still mad at you.”

“You might be, but not for long,” he argues with an obnoxious grin on his face. “They call it… The Kook Effect.” 

You shake your head. “I’m pretty sure you just made that up.”

“Yeah? Remember when you won a bet against Jimin and he had to call you Supreme Majesty in freshman year? And then you pretended that he did it out of his own volition.” 

“Oh, I’m not taking this from you and your dead trim.”

“My trim is fine, thanks.”

“Dead trim!” you repeat, almost frantic. You’re so caught up with Jungkook’s dead trim that you don’t notice that Taehyung is giving you a cheesy smile as he buys you your food. He looks like the greasiest gentleman alive when he hands it to you. 

“And what’s that about?”

“In junior year, at summer camp, they took away our phones because someone recorded the instructor jerking off. And then like, blackmailed him.” 

You quirk an eyebrow up at this, unsure what he’s hinting at. “Right.”

“Right. And then they took all of our phones for a month and you started crying about how your life is a living nightmare.” 

“Right…” you trail off, suddenly embarrassed as if that hadn’t happened a whole two years ago. But like, it totally was a big deal! “The no phone rule was the worst. Even worse than the public bathroom rule.”

“I did it. I’m making it up to you,” he explains. 

You feel your mouth twitch into a small smile, one that he hasn’t quite seen on you before. “I forgive you this once, then.” 

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“We’re going to a hotel after sightseeing,” Jin explains. It’s like he’s got everything figured out all by himself and perhaps with the help of Jungkook’s annoying personality. “I arranged the rooms and everything while you were eating.” 

“Quite epic,” Jimin comments absentmindedly. “Wait, rooms? Like, you mean who’s rooming with who?” 

“Yeah, I finished the registration.” He stares directly at you and then Taehyung. “You could switch if you wanted to, it doesn’t really matter.”

You give him a light glare, already having a brief idea of what he’s done, but don’t comment any further. With a sense of deja vu, you speak up again. “What about the motel?” 

“I wasn’t sure if we’re going to be passing by one today, so I thought hey! Better safe than sorry.” 

Everyone nods in half-agreement until Jin speaks up again. “Plus, you guys reek. You should shower. Couldn’t be me.”

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Predictably, Jin did set you and Taehyung up. You can’t tell what kind of game he and Jungkook are playing, however, the poor boy isn’t half as insufferable in your eyes ever since this road trip began, so maybe you should thank them. Still, you don’t trust them—their minds are as twisted as yours.

As the two of you are dragging your luggage towards your shared room, Taehyung reminds you that you’re free to tell him if you don’t want to sleep with him. “I could go to Jungkook’s room or something.”

You find the idea of being alone more unfavorable than you thought you would. Perhaps your high-school, drastically more histrionic, self would’ve found anything more pleasant than sharing a room with Taehyung. You’re a (slightly) changed person now, though. Or at least you’d like to believe you are.

“Let’s put it like this. I hate a lot of things.”

“You don’t need to tell me that, I already know,” he interrupts with a crude giggle. 

“But you’re not one of them,” you admit. 

There’s also the fact that the two of you are blatantly ignoring that you could switch with Jin and sleep with Hoseok instead.

No more words are spoken between the two of you that day. New Mexico isn’t half as bad as Oklahoma was. 

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You wake up before Taehyung does, punctually so. Rolling out of bed, you partly don’t care whether you wake him but at the same time, you try to avoid making too much noise before slipping into the bathroom. Though you’re definitely one to value your beauty sleep, yesterday’s incident left you paranoid over whether Jungkook or Jin would catch you unprepared. 

You go through your routine calmly and by the time Taehyung goes in the bathroom to take a piss, you’re ready to start doing your make-up. You stare at the foundation in your hand but before you can apply it, you hesitate. 

Do I need make-up to be desirable?

Of course, you’re aware that not all women who use make-up are insecure, or that it’s always necessarily toxic for your self-esteem. And you thought that was the case with you as well, but your doubts suggest otherwise. Swiftly, you put all of your stuff away, stick with your trusty lipstick and nothing else. 

“Morning,” he says, groggy still. 

“Morning.” You look over to him from the corner of your eye and he looks kind of dazed. “Jin says we’re staying here until tomorrow morning.” 

“Cool. Hotel’s nice. The scenery too.” 

“I guess.” 

There’s something cripplingly awkward when the two of you aren’t hurling insults at each other, you realize. 

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You’re off somewhere with Hoseok and Jin when Taehyung is hanging out with Jimin and Jungkook. Turns out their room has a nice balcony, and with the others out of the picture, there’s some kind of buzzed chatter about incoherent topics swirling around. 

Jungkook suddenly decides that it’s a good idea to start talking about his sexcapades. Maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe his mind’s slipping. Jimin kind of wants to admit how much he doesn’t care what his friend does outside of watching anime and playing video games, but there’s also a part of him that’s morbidly intrigued by Jungkook’s words. Like a dark spell or something. 

“I wanted to hit it off with [Y/n] in high school,” he admits bluntly.

The other two stare at him.

“Oh really? What made you change your mind?” Jimin asks, now more awake than ever. 

“Dunno. Like, she’s more like, the bitchy rival in rom-coms, not the protagonist. I liked her, but I didn’t think I could handle her,” he admits.

“Once we were clubbing and this guy was messing with me and I complained to her about it,” Jimin begins, leaning into his chair with a fond smile on his face, “and she was all like, I’ll show him. And I was like, what? And she was like, I’ll show him who he’s dealing with. And then I was like, okay, maybe don’t show him that much.” 

The three of them chuckle. Taehyung talks for the first time in a while. “Nah, I agree.”

“You dig it though, right?” 

Jimin gives him a knowing look right after Jungkook shoots his question with a drunken smile. He guesses that since Hoseok isn’t here, he can finally admit it. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I do. But I can’t get things right with her.” 

“What do you mean?”

“It’s like, we’re either fighting or it’s really awkward.” 

“You’re on your own.” Jimin dismisses him with a wave of his hand. “I don’t think she hates you that much. It’s always Taehyung this, Taehyung that.” 

“True,” Jungkook agrees. “Like yes, maybe she’s complaining about you half the time and I know she loves gossiping but I’ve never heard her talk about someone else that much. Except maybe Yoongi. What I’m sayin’ is, you should give it a shot.”

“Why do you guys even fight so much?” Jimin laughs. “Whenever it happens, I like, forget what even happened to lead up to that.” 

“Well, you know me. I’m always too honest for my own good and when I hit her with some snark she starts getting all defensive. I just...” He sounds defeated by the time he’s finished with his explanation. Taehyung’s shoulders visibly slump and his frame slides down the uncomfortable chair. “I just want to get along with her.” 

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The fourth day is the first time you actually aren’t sure where you are. Save for supposedly being close to Nevada by now, you tuned out the rest of Jin’s explanation despite your previous attempts at keeping up with your location. 

Regardless, what’s important is living in the present. And the present for you right now is walking down a nameless street, in a mess of other tourists, with your pants uncomfortably sticking to your ass with sweat. In short, you feel gross. 

Taehyung doesn’t seem to be having the same problem, while you can’t even fake being unfazed. You envy him just the tiniest bit. 

A trashy souvenir shop seems to catch Taehyung’s attention. In the scorching heat and sand-yellow scenery of this town, however, even that seems more appealing. So when he urges you to go with him, you find yourself reluctantly agreeing. 

When you step in, the air conditioning of the otherwise homey shop welcomes you like taking a breather during an overcrowded party. You let an unconscious smile take over your face when you greet the cashier. She’s cute and her adorableness factor only spikes up when she practically beams at the sight of customers. 

“Hi! Please, feel free to look around.” 

“We will,” Taehyung answers offhandedly. Her gaze lingers on him. 

Most of the things don’t interest you. Actually, they’re hideous if you had to be completely honest. He doesn’t seem that enamored by them either, but you can tell he finds more redeeming qualities about them than you do. 

Your eyes almost bulge out of your face when you see the most live-laugh-love-esque decoration to exist. Like something your mom would laugh-react to on Facebook. 

The offender is no more than three inches tall and wide, a ceramic plate with a cartoony burger portrayed on it. It’s holding a flag that says two simple words: “Nice Buns!” 

You can’t tell if it’s the radioactivity of Jungkook’s cooking from earlier or if this thing is what’s making you nauseous. However, food-poisoning or not, you’re quite disgusted by what you’ve just seen. “Oh my god, the caucasity.” 

“Aw, you don’t like it?” Taehyung says with a mocking pout. “I think it’s cute.” 

“What’s wrong with you? It’s corny.”

“No, it isn’t. It might’ve been if it was a corn-dog, though.” 

You heaved an over-dramatic sigh. “You’re saying words that have no positive impact on my life.”

“I think I’ll buy it,” he declares, before checking the price and realizing he hasn’t brought enough money with himself. 

You shake your head. “I’m not gonna be an accomplice to… that.” 

“Well, of course not. This is your Valentine’s present.”

“Go to hell. As if I’d be your Valentine in the first place,” you reply sardonically before pushing him out of the way.  

Taehyung realizes something at that moment. Even outside your evident disinterest in him and his affairs, the two of you are completely incompatible. You, too quick to judge and be offended and him, too quickly to say the first thing on his mind, obviously don’t mesh smoothly. 

Neither of the boyfriends you’ve had that he’s spoken to is anything like him, either. If Namjoon and Yoongi have one thing in common, it’s that they’re both calm, collected and have a good head screwed securely on top of their shoulders. He’s not like that.

Even so, that revelation only makes the concept of being with you more alluring. 

Kim Taehyung is an idiot. But more importantly, with one glance towards the admittedly good-looking cashier making googly eyes at him, Kim Taehyung makes a decision.

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While you’re taking a shit in a nearby cafeteria, you receive a text from Taehyung. This is shocking by itself since despite the two of you having each others’ numbers, you never really text. 

[15:30] pain in the neck: im going on a date w/ the cashier

[15:30] pain in the neck: feel free to leave

[15:45] Princess Complex: i’m just gonna hang with jungkook thank god

Why is your stomach sinking?

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Once you meet up with Jungkook, you explain the situation briefly. He quickly looks you over, confusion evident on his face. “What? On a date?”

“Yeah, he just kinda left me in the toilet,” you confirm with a shrug. “Anyways, where do you wanna go?” 

It’s not like Jungkook is an oblivious idiot with the emotional capacity of your aunt’s mutated sixth toe, even if he may appear to be. But you never thought he’d call you out the moment your overly confident facade starts slipping. His gaze softens. “Are you sure you’re okay with that?” 

He isn’t examining you when he asks. No, he appears to be looking off, somewhere behind you. However, you remain ignorant to that fact. 

“Yes! Why would I care? I’d rather drink toilet water for ten years straight than spend any more time with that moron,” you snap, too worked up for someone who supposedly doesn’t care. 

“Is that how you really feel about Taehyung?”

“Yes! Yes, oh my god, let it go.”

Jungkook makes one more helpless expression, shrugs lightly, and you fail to realize that neither of those gestures is directed at you. “Let’s go to the arcade.”

“I’m not really into video games,” you lie as you run your hand through your hair, “but fine.”

“Hell yeah.”

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When Taehyung goes back to your room in the trashy motel, notably late during the night for a mere first date, the atmosphere is tense. There’s a crease in your brows when you unlock the door and obvious bite marks over your bare lips. He stumbles ahead to enter, but you continue blocking his path with your arms frigidly crossed over your chest.

“You’re late.” 

“And what’s it to you?” He’s never spoken to you so harshly. There are moments where his words bite, but never does he say them with an expression and tone that are so frosty.

“Nothing in particular.” You move out of his way, finally, and he enters. You briefly wonder if he’s had alcohol before you start talking again. “I’ve been stuck in this room for like, an hour because the keys are in me. Waiting for you...”

“Poor you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I heard what you said about me to Jungkook. You know, I’m starting to understand why you scared away all your exes.”

Warth washes over you in waves for a millisecond before it disperses into nothingness, a cold numbness that makes your back shiver. Your gaze on him is empty yet livid at the same time and he cowers under it. You’re not sure if the guilt on his face is a flicker of your imagination or if it’s genuine, but you hope it’s the latter. 

It’s never his words that are a big deal to you. It’s the way he speaks every syllable, so earnestly with truth laced in every letter, that makes you go off the hook. Because deep down, you’re aware that he doesn’t mean to be malicious or to offend, it’s merely him telling his truth.

You grab a few things impulsively with a mundane declaration, before storming off god knows where. “I’m not sleeping here tonight.”

When the door clicks behind your frame, Taehyung backs down and sprawls out across the bed. Truthfully, he regretted his words before he even opened his mouth. But he was so angry, be it with you or with himself.

It just seemed so unfair that you could blow him away time after time and yet, on his date the only thing on his mind was you. The mediocre make-out session and him awkwardly leaving out of nowhere didn’t help, either. And then you had to be so perfect, waiting for him instead of locking his ass out like he thought you would.

It isn’t the girl’s fault she’s raised to be as sweet as sugar while you’re more like citrus. He’s always had a knack for lemons, anyway.

The fact that you spent the rest of the day with Jungkook only aggravates him further, the younger’s words repeating in his head. I tried to hit it off with [Y/n] in high school, or whatever it was that he said exactly. All of this is his own fault, anyway—if he hadn’t been so temperamental, you would’ve stayed with him for the rest of the day.

Taehyung stares at the cheap lights hanging on the ceiling until his eyes hurt that night.

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Half-way through your trek to Hoseok’s room, you crumble. A sob escapes your throat and then another one. After these two instances, your tears don’t cease. 

At first, Jimin is excited to see you at their door but his smile slips the moment he realizes what a bad state you’re in. You’re practically making whale noises while desperately searching for Hoseok. 

“I’ll give you two a moment.” He gives you one final look-over and leaves with a not-so-threatening threat. “Or maybe thirty. You better be smiling and singing Toxic by the time I’m back, [Y/n].”

Hoseok rushes to hug you. “God, girl, what’s wrong?”

“I like Taehyung.” 

“Is that it? You’re a strong girl, y’know, I never pictured you crying over some pretty boy.” 

“No. I’m crying because I’ve liked him all this fucking time and I tried to run away from him because I’m scared. And he said the most horrible thing to me,” you explain as you bury yourself deeper into his embrace. “That’s why I’m crying.”

“I hope he isn’t allergic to hands, because he’s about to catch them. Actually, I hope he is allergic.” Hoseok isn’t one to ask about details. He lets you get it out of your system, makes a few promises (most often of violence) and then allows you to elaborate if you wish to do so.

You laugh, but it turns into choking considering how much snot you have running down your face by now. “He said that he understands why my exes run away from me. I mean, I— I said something rude about him first, but Jungkook was backing me into a corner and I didn’t know he would even find out about it, I just—”

“Forget about him, forget about Jungkook, everyone. Tonight is for Britney,” Hoseok commands more than he asks you.

You smile sadly at him before uselessly wiping your tears away and giggling like you’re on the brink of losing your mind. Perhaps you are.

“My 45-carat booger. Hey, let’s make Jimin do the chicken dance,” Hoseok starts off like he’s coddling you in his strange way of doing so, but then quickly turns diabolical. He throws some tissues at you and you accept them. If there’s one thing you’re truly grateful for, it’d be your best friend.

You nod, suddenly more excited than you should be. Hoseok’s right—you don’t need some pretty boy when queen Britney is watching over you.

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The next day, you’re wearing a full-face of make-up, and Taehyung notices it. Hoseok’s driving and you’re in the passenger seat, talking about some nonsense as usually do. The atmosphere is light, with Jimin and Jungkook occasionally joining in your conversation and Jin sleeping with his forehead pressed against the window.

Truth to be told, Taehyung feels like a zombie right now. Pretending that your scuffle with him meant nothing to you only convinces him further how little you care about anything that has to do with him.

“I think we’ll be in Las Vegas soon,” Hoseok announces cheerily.

On one hand, you’re happy to finally be seeing the end of this road trip. Though you’ve technically just been relaxing, you wanted to be done with your cousin’s dumb wedding and go back to spending an average amount of time with your friends. You want to forget how flippant things are between you and Taehyung, your quote-unquote friendship dictated by mood swings rather than actual feelings.

“Fuck yeah! I wanna get drunk in Vegas,” you say with a smirk. “It’s on my bucket list.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah.”

“You want to get drunk everywhere,” Jungkook corrects with a laugh. You can’t help agreeing with him. “And Jin will probably stay in the hotel and play Candy Crush or something.”

“Ew, ew, ew, a fucking millenial,” you exclaim in mock disgust.

“Jin can be a beast if he wants to. Remember when he twerked in front of the whole school on Taehyung’s birthday party?”

“Shit was wild, man.”

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No one except you, Hoseok and Taehyung himself is aware of what transpired yesterday. So Jungkook and Jin are still stubbornly placing the two of you together, yet you’re too powerless to fight it.

The hotel is a fancy one, courtesy of your annoying cousin. She’s been texting you and you sent a short message back to inform her you’ve arrived, but you haven't bothered to deal with her provocations any further. 

After dumping his luggage near his bed, Taehyung was straight out of the room and you started getting ready. And that was that. 

You feel more like yourself when you find the wine hidden in the fridge, a free present from the hotel. Or maybe your cousin’s way of making peace. Ha, as if that’d happen. 

When Taehyung comes back to get dressed, you’re already tipsy and acting like a fool.

“Drinking already?” There are many things that Taehyung wants to say to you. An apology he’s too sober to say and a confession you’re too drunk to hear, to begin with. 

“It’s pre-game,” you explain dizzily. “You know. I never told you why I hate my cousin so much. She used to bully me and she stole my first boyfriend from me. And we never got past it.”

With your trademark look, high-heels, acrylics, a fancy yet revealing dress along with whatever else you consider fashionable at the moment, Taehyung feels familiarity staring at your lopsided smirk. Though he’s gotten glimpses of other sides of you during these past few days, like how you like cuddling during the night, this is the epitome of who you are.

“Yeah,” he replies agreeably, though you’re not sure what for.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but Hoseok is waiting for me. So, this is bye-bye.” 

“See you there.”

“Probably not.” You snicker. Taehyung can tell that you’re still upset with him.

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You’re so wasted that the things happening around you aren’t really making sense anymore. While you and Hoseok were drinking together for a while, at one point Jungkook whisked him away, then there’s a blank in your memory and now you’re here. Alone. And you’ve lost count of how many drinks you’ve had. 

A man, that’s definitely a few years older than you, finally approaches you after observing you from afar. He says some sort of sleazy line—you’re not sure what it is, you’re not really listening—and offers you a drink. 

You consider him. He’s not your type at all and that pornstache isn’t helping his case but, when you look at Taehyung and see him talking and having fun while you’re being an alcoholic by your lonesome and moping about him, you quickly accept his offer. Pornstache or not. 

“Pick anything you’d like, kitten,” he purrs, in an attempt at being seductive. 

“Well first off I’m not a furry so don’t call me that,” you snap with a self-assured grin. And then you start listing off the most expensive drinks on the menu. 

This man is so enamored by you that he buys you all of them. You’re three steps closer to alcohol poisoning when you clumsily stumble onto the dance floor along with him, running your hand over his jaw in what you believe to be a sensual manner. He seems to dig it, but from an outsider’s perspective the two of you look like junkies trying to get off. 

Your experience in the club is romanticized. The dim lights are reminiscent to those few times you’ve gone to a rave and it reeks of alcohol, overpriced perfumes and sweat. You and your nameless pathetic fan mingle with the grinding crowd and begin imitating them. 

As the poet Lady Gaga once said, “redlight pornographic dance fight”. 

The act itself is indifferent to you. From across the room, Taehyung locks eyes with you and you’re not really sure why but you feel this sudden need to provoke him, even when you know he most likely wouldn’t care. You sloppily kiss your suitor’s cheek while looking at him intensely from across the room. A red trail from your wet lips makes its way down his face.

For the sake of pettiness, you might’ve gone further—I mean, you were already playing some weird game of tug-and-war but with clothes—but you don’t want to know the feeling of this guy’s lips against yours. He finds the mostly innocent action as an invitation, though, and abruptly halts your staring contest with Taehyung by forcing you into a greedy kiss.

Pushing him away, you give him a pointed stare and rejection is clear on his face. “Excuse me…” 

He’s a terrible kisser. 

Pushing through everyone that’s in your way, you make your escape through the first door you find. In your intoxicated parade, you fail to make sense of the words ‘CLOSED’ that are so blatantly taped over the entrance. So, you find yourself in front of a swimming pool. 

The cold breeze outside prickles at your skin unpleasantly, and a quick look around tells you that there’s no one around to put this in their cringe compilation. Apparently more disgusted than you’d initially thought, you puke your guts out in front of the pool. Now light-headed and somehow empty, you stare at your vomit and take a deep breath. 

“Hey, why’d you run away?” Your suitor from earlier appears to have followed you outside. You stare at your feet—doesn’t he understand that you wanted to get away from him?

“You’re a bad kisser,” you say bluntly after getting over your little trance. 

“Give me a chance to change your mind then,” he offers smugly, taking menacing steps towards you. You move away instinctively before you’re quickly backed into a wall, with his two hands trapping you in between. 

Your eyes widen with fear and you sink into yourself. If you had anything else to puke out, you’re sure you would’ve done so at this point. “I have sharp nails and I’m not afraid to use them.”

“Oh, she bites-”

The events that play out next happen so slowly, you’re not sure why you’re surprised. Taehyung appears, and you do see him in your peripheral vision, stares for a bit before knocking the guy out with a punch to his temple. He falls unconscious on the ground.

“Oh god, did I kill him?” he asks, a vacant look on his face. He imagined his first kill to be more thrilling, but on second thought, he’s not sure why he was thinking about that without being under the influence of substances in the first place. 

“I’d be happy if he’s dead, if that helps,” you comment dryly. 

“Do we dump the body in the pool or what?”

The two of you are drunk enough to consider it. Your mind is blank for a bit, before you finally speak up. “I’m trying to think of what I saw on How To Get Away With Murder, but it’s not coming to me. But like, on Blacklisted, there was this guy who like, made the corpses turn to gas or something!”

“You watch too much TV. Also, I’m pretty sure it’s called The Blacklist.”

“Whatever. Do you know how to do that?”

“No.”

“Hey, what’s going on here?” A new voice cuts in.

“You better come up with something convincing or we’ll have to kill him too,” you urge.

“Did you say something?”

“No.”

“Umm, awkward believe it yeah,” Taehyung begins, a strong start. “This guy slipped on her puke and hit his head. And he has a concussion now.”

“Man, that sucks,” the guy says. You’re relieved that he’s as trashed as he is, otherwise the situation would’ve went really badly, considering how Taehyung straight-up lied to his face. “I’ll go call someone over ‘ere.”

Once he’s out of sight, the two of you stare at each other and decide to flee the country. But then change the plan with the more economically-efficient idea to simply leave the club. 

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“Why were you with that guy anyway?” Taehyung asks. Frankly put, neither of you know where you’re going, but you’re boldly leading him through the artificially-lit streets of Las Vegas as if you’re born there. Where you end up is a concern your sober selves of tomorrow should worry about.

“I wanted to make you jealous,” you reply, bold, like everything you do when you’re drunk is. 

“...I don’t get it.”

“You pissed me off so much yesterday. And you made me jealous when you went out with that cashier. But also, you killed a guy for me, so I guess I’m not mad at you anymore.” 

“Well aren’t you high-maintenance,” he retorts sarcastically, gaining what feels like a confidence spurt because of your sudden confession. “You don’t have anything to be jealous of, anyway. The only thing I had on my mind during that stupid fucking date was you.”

You freeze up. You thought that your own attitude was what made any possibility of him returning your feelings seem laughable. Even if it’s drunk blabber, alcohol is an honesty elixir, at least in your case. “Kiss me?” 

He doesn’t need to be told twice, attacking your lips so eagerly you’d consider it funny if you were in a right state of mind. Still, your reciprocation is just as hungry, so maybe you don’t have any room to laugh. He is indulging you, after all.

The wipeout that happened at the club happens again and you’re left to wonder how things escalated. From teeth clashing against each other in pure excitement, you’re left hovering over Taehyung’s form and straddling him unsteadily.

He reaches under your already high dress and the glimpse of your panties seems to excite him. “You have no idea how much I’ve thought about this,” he admits breezily. 

You smile, a teasing one, adjusting yourself better. “You don’t need to be so dramatic about it, it’s just underwear.” 

“Dramatic is how many times I’ve jerked off after we went to the supermarket and you flashed me.”

“Ewwww, we shared a bed like three times, freak,” you scold and he pouts when you distance yourself from him. 

“I was just trying to be funny!”

“Not funny. Didn’t laugh. It’s better when you don’t talk,” you instruct before leaning down again to kiss him. At least he’s having fun with groping whatever he can get his hands on. 

“You’re so annoying it turns me on. Always whining, it drives me nuts how much I really like you.”

You snicker. “Well, I sure am feelin’ the love here.”

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When you wake up, you register three things. Four, actually. First—your left shoe is missing. Second— Taehyung is knocked out cold next to you. Third—you don’t know where you are, except for the fact that there’s a garbage bin next to you. Fourth—your head is throbbing with pain and you’re so sore you’re not sure if you can walk. Needless to say, you had the wild night in Vegas you wished for in your bucket list, and you only half-regret it.

You see your shoe discarded near you and nudge it with your toe for a bit before finally gathering enough power to sit up and put it on. Or so you think, because the moment you’re propped in a standing position, you vomit like you did yesterday. 

Speaking of yesterday, the only thing you remember is that you and Taehyung were convinced that he’s now a murderer on the run, confessing your feelings for each other in an anti-climactic manner and then having like seven rounds of public sex. 

With a recap of yesterday’s events, you digress and put your shoe on before reaching in your purse. Surprisingly, you haven’t been robbed. Fishing your phone out, you come to the conclusion that you’ve been knocked out cold for way too long. 

Hoseok has generously spammed you with seventy texts, but you don’t bother to read them, already assuming that the gist is something about where the fuck you and Taehyung are. Instead, you call him immediately. 

“Hi,” you greet casually.

“[Y/n]! Where the fuck are you and Tae? We were so worried. Jin almost declared you two missing. But on the positive side, Jungkook didn’t care because he got food poisoning yesterday at the club.”

“I don’t know where we are, but he’s with me.”

“What do you mean?!”

“I’ll send you my location. I don’t have money for Uber, love you, kisses and hickeys,” you say in one breathe before hanging up quickly and doing what you said you’d do. 

At first, you thought this road trip was an opportunity for you to grow and mature. However, after yesterday’s shenanigans, you’re almost convinced your sociopathic tendencies are now higher by 5%. 

You start shaking Taehyung until he wakes up and swats your arms away. Now upon closer inspection, while you’re aware that you look bad right now, he’s not looking too hot either. The lipstick marks you had left on his face make it look like you’ve either slobbered all over him or that he’s a vampire, you’re not sure. And you’ve bitten him so much somebody could think he got attacked by a racoon judging solely on those bruises.

You quickly explain the situation to him as you’re fixing up your bra and top. Considering the fact that you were bordering on nip-slip territory, that was your priority. Smoothing your dress is easy enough, but your pantyhose is mysteriously ripped in some incriminating places.

He reaches out, rips out the fake eyelash that was pathetically hanging off the corner of your eye and throws it away. You take care of the other one, wipe off your ruined make-up and then wipe off the lipstick on his face. 

Your head hurts so much that you don’t know what to say to break the silence. Though you also don’t doubt that he’s in the position, and so, for the first time it doesn’t feel awkward between the two of you. 

“Hey, [Y/n], are we like… dating now?”

“I think so? You can be my date to the wedding if you want.” 

A dopey smile takes over his face. You realize you’ve made someone this happy before with merely being yourself. It fills you with a kind of warmth you’ve never felt before.

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“Your cousin won’t stop calling you,” Taehyung emphasizes as you’re pointedly ignoring your ringtone while you get ready. Considering the atrocious state both of you came back in, the process taking longer than usual shouldn’t be a surprise. Especially since you had to take turns for the shower.

Also the part where the two of you got into a fight over who should go in first—your thesis being arguably stronger once you mentioned the mud ingrained in the left sole of your feet—only slowed you down further.

“I know right? Can’t this pregnant moron get a life.”

“No, I think she’s calling you because we’re late to the wedding,” he elaborates. “You should pick up.”

“But I hate her!”

“You can roast her at the wedding and I’ll hype you up if you do what I ask.”

“Oh my god, promise?” 

“Promise.”

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“Look who finally showed up,” your cousin greets you with a tight smile. You can only return the sentiment as Taehyung dumbly trails behind you. 

Well, as much as you don’t like your cousin, the wedding is certainly nice. With a light atmosphere and a fancy ceremony, he can’t pretend he hates it—that much is certain. Though he can also tell that it’s a lot of money wasted on food that doesn’t look appetizing in the slightest the more he examines the buffet.

“I see you’re not wearing the dress I shipped to you. Is it too tight, perhaps?” She’s smiling fakely and sweetly as she waits for your answer to her provocation. Of course it’s too tight; what else could it be when she picked it two sizes smaller than what you usually wear. And she did it on purpose too.

Despite the rather mundane conversation happening, the tension is thick.

“I’m going to be quick. You look like a greasy manatee.” You give her your own uptight smile before strutting away, cueing Taehyung to follow after you.

“Pregnancy-shameeeeed,” he yells out as he offers her finger guns and speed-walks in your direction. 

Once he’s caught up with you, he speaks up again. “I know you could’ve been more brutal than that.”

“Oh please, I’m sophisticated, I’d never engage in some barbaric behavior.”

You both burst out laughing at your blatant lie. 

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“Do you think they’re dating now?” Jin asks, looking at the two of you as you dance and joke around. Though he imagines that you could only be having a deranged conversation, one that isn’t as sweet and lovey-dovey as it might look from an outsider’s perspective, it’s still quite disgusting how smitten Taehyung looks with you. 

“I don’t care,” Jungkook answers. Him saying he doesn’t care is a metaphor for how much he doesn’t care about anything after his food poisoning.

Jimin rolls his eyes. “Oh definitely. I saw them making out near a garbage dumpster when we were driving back to the hotel.”

Seokjin chokes.