#maybe if she washes it properly it gets more wavy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

panic-at-the-fiction · 4 years ago

Text

True Love’s Kiss

Summary: Jefferson loves his family but when Regina puts (y/n) under a sleeping curse he risks it all to save her only to end up separated from them for more than 28 years. Also shout out to @fangirltrash15 for asking for this fic. I know you didn’t ask me specifically but I hope you like it.

Warnings: Spell check? We don’t know her!

A/N: This is the longest story I have ever written in one sitting and I loved writing it. I honestly love writing for Jefferson. He’s such and untapped potential for fanfiction and I blame that for his lack of screen time which I blame on the fact that he was dating Jennifer Morrison and they broke up so I guess it was weird for him to be on the show but there was a wonderland spin off and there is no reason he shouldn’t have been on that.

Jefferson was making his way down the street like he did every night. Only stopping outside the Tea Grove cafe to look through its window on the other side of the street where he couldn’t be seen. He watched as the young woman in the store turned off the open sign and began to sweep away at the floors. He just loved walking by her store to watch her close up at night. He knew he could never talk to her. In this life she didn’t know him and he couldn’t tell her what he knew because knowing was the worst curse.

The enchanted forest.

(Y/n) was running through the forest. Dodging every tree she could and jumping over the big roots of trees that stuck out of the ground. She ran until she eventually found a hollow tree to hide in. She did her best to remain silent while she caught her breath but her hiding place must not have been good enough...

“I found you!” Said the little blonde as she popped her head into the tree (y/n) had hidden herself in.

“So you did sweet Grace,” she laughed “at least tell me you found your father first.” (Y/n) climbed her way out of the tree and finally stood up.

“She did.” Said a slight grumpy voice from behind the tree.

“Oh well good, that means at least I didn’t lose.” (Y/n) said smiling and laughing at the handsome man who was leaning against the tree.

“Just because grace found me first does not mean I lost.” He huffed.

“It kind of does,” He rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, admit it, you're just upset that you lost to a girl at hide and seek. Come on admit I beat you.” She said teasing him and pointing at his chest.

“Ok find you beat me, you always do.” He laughed.

“Damn straight.” (Y/n) said finally getting close enough to Jefferson to throw her arms around his shoulders and pull him down for a quick kiss. Making a mental note that grace was still there.

She had been living with Grace and Jefferson for a couple of years now but she was always sure to keep things g-rated around Grace. Especially since she wasn’t Grace’s actual mother, though she loved Grace no less, (y/n) knew she could never fully replace her like that.

“Come on papa let’s go back to the house and have our tea party.”

“Of course my dear Grace,” Jefferson said holding his hand out for his little girl. Grace took her fathers hand and then offered her other hand for (y/n).

Present day.

(Y/n) finished locking up the store and turned to head toward her car. It was pouring down rain and as she opened her umbrella a gust of wind blew it out of her hand and down the street. She quickly chased after it down the road. She paid no attention to the road as cars tried to swerve around her. As she made it to the other side of the road she ran down the sidewalk never getting much closer to her umbrella till a strange man finally caught it and walked over to her.

He set the umbrella straight and held it over her head. “You uh... dropped this I think.”

“Thank you, so much really.”

He seemed nervous or even panicked. She had never seen him around before which was so strange for this small town. “Here I’ll walk you to your car.”

They both walked back up the street till they reached her car. He helped her get in and handed her the umbrella. “Thank you so much, uh I actually don’t know your name.”

“Jefferson,” he said with pain on his face.

“Well it’s nice to meet you Jefferson, I’m (y/n). I guess you’re sorta like my knight in shining armor tonight aren’t you? You really saved me out there.” She laughed.

He frowned at the ground before looking at the girl in the car again. “Trust me I’m no knight and you didn’t need my saving.” He said before walking away from the car.

The enchanted forest

After having visited the market that evening with Grace, (y/n) came back home to find the queen's Carriage sitting by their house. (Y/n) bent down to her knees so she was at eye level with the young girl. “Wait, stop Grace. We should hang out in the woods for a bit ok? We can play our game for a while.” She smiled at the little girl.

“Who’s at the house with papa?” She questioned being the smart girl she was.

“I think it’s the Queen.”

“The Queen, at our house. What does she want? Shouldn’t we go inside and check on papa?”

(Y/n) rubbed up and down Grace’s arms. “No sweetie. Me and your father made a deal a long time ago that if our past ever came back that one of us would stay with you. He doesn’t want you to ever be alone. Ok? So for now let’s go into the woods and play our game. Your father can handle this.” She smiled.

After spending sometime in the forest the girls walked back to the house. This time with no carriage in sight. When they went inside they found Jefferson sitting at the table in the kitchen contemplating the box in front of him.

“Papa!” Grace ran and hugged her father.

“You're both back late. Did you enjoy yourselves at the market?”

“Yes we did but when we got home we saw the queen's carriage so we stayed and played in the woods for a while.”

“Oh I see. Grace why don’t you go play in your room while I talk to (y/n) for a moment.” She smiled and ran off to her room.

(Y/n) frowned and set down beside Jefferson. “What did the Queen want?”

“She wanted me to portal jump.” He said running his hands through his hair.

(Y/n) began to rub calming circles on his back, “and what did you tell her?”

“I told her I didn’t do that anymore. I have a family now.”

“And so she just left?”

“Yeah I think so.”

“ I doubt that she doesn’t have a plan to come back.”

“I know. When Regina wants something she’ll get it. Whatever the cost.” (Y/n) rest her head on his shoulder.

“Is that why you brought out your hat? Incase she comes back?”

“I don’t know. I just keep thinking maybe it wouldn’t hurt to just do one more job. We wouldn’t have to worry about money ever again. You and Grace wouldn’t have to live so poorly.”

“Jefferson, me and Grace are just happy with the life we have. We don’t need money to be afamily and we need you here. With us.”

He smiled faintly and kissed the top of her head. This was why he needed (y/n) she reminded him of why he put that hat away. He belonged here.

A couple of days later

It was getting late and (y/n) still wasn’t back from the market. She left hours ago and it was almost supper time. She should be back by now and Jefferson was beginning to worry.

With the sun beginning to set he grabbed his hat and told Grace to go stay at the neighbors house till either he or (y/n) came home. He knew they had once said that in times like these one of them would always stay with Grace but he needed to bring (y/n) back home.

He knew exactly where she was; he didn’t need to look. He quickly made his way to the queen's castle and by nightfall he marched through the doors. No guards stopped him so obviously he was in the right place and the Queen wanted him here.

He finally reached the queen's quarters and tossed his hat bose on to the floor. “Here that damned hat Regina, now where’s (y/n)!”

“Calm down mister Jefferson. We both know that I don’t know how to use that hat without ending up somewhere useless. Only you know how to use it properly. It’s useless to me but if you're looking for your little girlfriend I’m sure I can help you with that.” She stood up from her seat and walked over to the middle of the room where Jefferson stood.

She waved her hand and a mirror appeared. “Here this will show you anyone you wish to see.”

He cautiously took the mirror from Regina and held it in his hands and thought of (y/n). The mirror in the cloud of smoke showed through a picture of (y/n), she appeared to be unconscious, almost appearing to be dead.

“What did you do to her!”

“She’s fine Hatter. She’s only sleeping.”

“Wake her, I know you can!”

“Well of course I can but why would I do that? Not to worry though, if you want to wake her on your own all you have to do is give her true love's kiss.” Jefferson's face dropped. “That is if you believe in your true love?”

“I love (y/n)”

“Yes but is it good enough? I mean does she truly love you? All you can offer her is a small house with little money and a daughter who's not even hers.”

“And what do you want? What would I have to do in exchange for you waking her?” He said through gritted teeth.

“Like I said before. I want to go to wonderland of course.

Present day.

Jefferson set alone in his house like always, using his telescope to check on his family. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about (y/n) since he last saw her on the street.

Ever since Emma came to town he’s had this annoying hope that maybe she could break this curse and he could be with his family again. He knew it wouldn’t be that easy though. He abandoned his family many years before the curse, who says they would want him back now. Besides, Emma was convinced in not believing in magic. He tried to show her and despite all his proof she didn’t believe him.

As he peered through his telescope he spotted a glitter in the sky. It seemed as though it was moving closer like a wavy. Before he could even process it the wave washed over him. At first he felt nothing, like nothing was different but he looked back through his telescope this timing aiming it at the town square. He could see everyone coming out of their shops and houses and hugging and reuniting with people on the streets. He couldn’t believe it, there was no way this was possible. They were waking up.

Jefferson passed back and forth through his whole house. This was all he had waited for for 28 years, even longer when counting the time he spent in wonderland. But he couldn’t muster up the courage to go find his family. He finally forced himself to go outside onto the street. Families and reunited loved ones pass him all around. He slowly made his way down the street but not long after the first wave he saw another come toward him. This one was like smoke, purple smoke. No one had time to cover for shelter but as soon as it covered the street it was gone. Everyone began to panic but he knew what this was. He had been a dabler of magic; he could feel it here.

Pain rang through him as he thought of what would happen now that magic was in town. He quickly ran down the street toward the little tea shop he had passed millions of times before. When he finally reached the shop there was a small crowd of customers who crowded around the entrance. As he approached the crowd and tried to push passed through them, he heard a familiar voice.

“Papa!”

“Grace, my darling” he hugged his little girl as hard as he could, too scared to let her go.

“I was going to find you but (y/n) found me first. She was fine but when the smoke came by she collapsed. I don’t know what’s wrong with her papa.” He did his best to calm the girl and then stood up and pushed the crowd away to finally reach (y/n).

“No no no, this wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. You were supposed to be fine in this world.” He knelt beside (y/n) and held her unconscious form in his arms.

“We tried to help her but we can’t tell what’s wrong with her. Someone already called 911.” Said some man in the crowd.

“They won’t do her any good. This is a magic problem and it needs a magic solution.” He snapped. He tuned the rest of them out as they all stood around them. He leaned his forehead down to hers as he brushed some hair out of face. “(Y/n) if you can hear me… I I need you to wake up. Ok?” He paused for a second but she didn’t move. He closed his eyes and pressed a small kiss to her forehead.

(Y/n) eyes flew open and she jumped as she quickly awoke from her sleep. She looked around her and saw Jefferson and sweet Grace by her side. She smiled, finally being able to remember them after seeing them everyday but never truly seeing them. She cupped Jefferson's cheek with her hand and smiled. “How did you know that would work?”

He laughed slightly as he took her hand and placed a kiss in her palm. “I didn’t.” He swiftly pulled her into a passionate kiss with all the love he could conjure. “I love you”

(Y/n) smiled, “I love you too”

Jefferson pulled his family into a hug as they all sat on the floor. He had been dreaming of this day for too long. “Let’s go home” he said smiling at his small family.

#jefferson #jefferson hatter #Jefferson Hatter x reader #Jefferson Hatter x you #Jefferson Hatter x y/n #jefferson x reader #Jefferson x you #Jefferson x y/n #sebastian stan #once upon a time #once upon a time x reader

351 notes · View notes

fific7 · 3 years ago

Text

Even His Name - Part 1

Sirius Black x OC

Summary: Friends forever? Maybe. Maybe not.

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol, slight consent issues, 18+ please due to NSFW content including unprotected* sex. The age of consent in the UK is 16, sorry if that’s not in line with the laws in your own country/state.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

A/N: Looking at this photo, I can kinda see why Ben Barnes got fancast as Sirius Black. This story is non-canon and takes place in my imaginary HP AU with OC, Celeste (meaning celestial or heavenly).

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Sirius Black. Even his name was beautiful.

She watched his tall, lean figure approaching as she sat & relaxed against one of the shady trees beside the lake.

She drank in every last detail before he got too close, before her out-and-out staring was noticeable to him.

The lazily slouching but graceful walk, his long legs eating up the distance between them.

The pale, porcelain-like skin, the aristocratic cheekbones, the trendy light scruff of moustache with matching scruff along his jawline, the full sensuous lips, the famed long black wavy hair. And of course, those hypnotic grey eyes, ringed by long dark lashes. Those eyes could change like mercury, from silver to dark pewter within a heartbeat.

As he got got closer, her eyes almost totally closed, but she wasn’t dozing off, it was a ruse to disguise her intense staring. Her eyes continued to eat him up like he was a very large chocolate eclair.

It was Saturday, so no school uniform. Trademark bad-boy attire, then. Her heart sped up at the sight of the scuffed leather biker jacket, the Led Zeppelin t-shirt, distressed jeans & leather work boots. Not properly laced up... of course.

All in black, a living embodiment of his name.

She heaved a long sigh, letting it escape without thought, and her eyes closed fully.

She was aware of a shadow blocking the sunlight falling on her closed eyelids. The sound of somebody settling themselves down next to her, still partly casting a shadow onto her.

Her eyes opened a sliver, and her head rolled to the side towards him of its own accord.

“What’s the big sigh for, Celeste?” in his deep, slightly hoarse, breathy voice. The voice which sent a thousand female hearts beating like drums.

“Sirius.” She sighed again, her eyes opening slowly. “You’re blocking my sun.”

He grinned, chuckling. He gestured to his body with one hand, “This ... masterpiece... of a man joins you for a pleasant interlude by the lake, and all you can say is that I’m blocking your rays?!”

“Yeah.”

He chuckled again. “Ah c’mon, you know you love me.”

She rolled her head back to its original position. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“And maybe it’ll come true?” he smirked.

“When hell freezes over.”

He leant over, placing his head on her shoulder as he did so, puppy dog eyes in play, complete with pouted bottom lip.

“Now, you know that isn’t true. You’re desperate to get me into the sack.”

“But, Sirius,” she said innocently, “there wouldn’t be enough room in the bed for me, what with you and your massive ego already in it.”

His head shot back, his unmistakable & glorious barking laugh issuing forth & attracting the attention of every female within earshot.

“You’re hysterical,” he continued laughing, more quietly. “No, I’m Celeste,” she smirked, throwing her version of his favourite line back at him.

He groaned, “You’d use my own comeback against me? Really?”

“Every time,” she nodded.

He was grinning back at her, when she was suddenly aware of another shadow falling across her. She frowned involuntarily, looking up to see who it was. A tall Ravenclaw girl stood there, confidently smirking down at Sirius. She didn’t spare his current companion even a glance.

“Hi,” she smiled brightly at him. “Thought you’d maybe like to take a walk with me, Siri?” giving him a suggestive sideways look, all the while twirling a strand of her long brown hair round a finger.

Celeste rolled her eyes, smirking & tutting loudly. She muttered, “Pathetic,” under her breath & began to gather her books, getting ready to ‘exit stage left’.

Sirius looked over at her, smiling and laying his hand on her arm, stilling her movement.

He looked up at the other girl. “Sorry, love,” he said with a grin, “spending some one-on-one time with my best girl here.”

She still didn’t look at his ‘best girl’. “Well, why don’t I just join you here while you do that, and then we can go for a walk by ourselves afterwards?”

Sirius looked down, and Celeste knew what was coming next. He’d given her his polite brush-off, now here came the not-so-polite one.

“Didn’t you hear what I just said? I’m here with Celeste,” he said, voice harsh, glaring back up at her.

She stopped twirling that lock of hair, recoiling from his glare & tone. “Well, you know, I just thought...”

“You just thought wrong then, didn’t you! Now, run along dear, off you go.” Voice cold, eyes narrowed.

She turned on her heel and scuttled back to her little band of giggling friends. Something told Celeste that her friends wouldn’t be all that sympathetic. If there was one thing almost guaranteed to break up friendship groups, it was who did, or didn’t have, Sirius’ attention.

Celeste laughed, “Lordy, I don’t know how you put up with all that fangirling.... ‘Siri’.” she imitated the girl in a high-pitched tone. “They make me ashamed to be a woman. Don’t they have any self-respect?!”

Sirius laughed, “But Cel, they’re just rightfully worshipping ... this!” Again, one hand gesturing up & down the length of his body.

“What.. a skinny boy?” she questioned, looking him up & down, “Really? What’s the attraction then?” she laughed.

He’d sat up straight as she’d been speaking, faux offended. “Celeste! How could you? Firstly, I am a man, not a boy.”

“Sirius, you’re sixteen. You.. are.. a.. boy!”

“Nah, nah, nah! I.. am.. a.. man!” dramatically emulating her slow delivery before continuing, “And I’m nearly seventeen. Secondly, I am not skinny. I’m tall and athletic.”

“Skinny.”

“Athletic!”

She laughed. “You don’t even play Quidditch any more. So where do you get this ‘athleticism’ from? Running away from Filch and the prefects after a prank?!”

“Thank you for answering your own question!” he said, laughing back at her.

He again leant towards her, eyes boring into hers, changing to dark & stormy mode, lips so close that she felt the little huffs of his breath on her own lips as he spoke.

“Don’t fight it, Cel. Just give in and admit you want me! We’ll head to my dorm right now and spend the entire night together, having hot, sensual, sheet-tangling sex!”

She burst out laughing, turning away momentarily, eager to break the close proximity to him. “The gods love a trier, Sirius. Pity I don’t.” She looked back at him, “And no doubt one of your fangirls is already curled up under your quilt, just waiting on the god that is Sirius Black to arrive and rock her world!!”

“My bed is exclusively reserved for you.”

“OK... curled up in her bed then, waiting on Mr I Never Stay The Night to arrive.”

“You pierce my heart!”

“Sirius, you may be one of my closest friends, but I can honestly say that you, within just the last few weeks, have become a total man-whore. And a barely legal one at that.”

“Celeste!! Just bloody well admit you want me.”

“Can’t that huge ego of yours handle the fact that there’s at least one girl in this school who doesn’t drop her panties the second you look at her?!” her laughter pealed out over the surrounding area, catching the attention of and sparking the venomous jealousy of the Sirius Fangirls’ Club.

He also burst out laughing, inciting the Fangirls even more.

“Ah.... Cel, my ego is perpetually the size of a peanut whenever you’re around.” Innocence personified, wide grey eyes gazed at her. “It never gets the chance to grow any bigger.”

Then the trademark smirk appeared. “Unlike a certain other part of my anatomy.” One eyebrow quirked up at her, long fingers slinking down onto his jeans zip. She couldn’t stop her eyes following them. His lips slid upwards into a pleased grin.

“Urggghhh!” she groaned, closing her eyes briefly before starting to pack up her stuff. “On that note, I’m off!”

“Awww, don’t go! This was just about to get interesting. You almost agreed to give me a quick blowjob!”

She stood up, brushing grass off her denim cutoffs and slipping on her low wedge sandals. Sirius raked his eyes up and down her figure as she did so.

She leant back down to him, knowing full well that he was getting an eyeful down her tastefully low-cut frilly top. She had on a translucent lacy bra, and she heard his breath catch as soon as he spotted it.

Putting her lips right next to his ear, she said, “Firstly, I don’t give blowjobs to sixteen-year-old skinny boys.” She huffed out a breath onto his earlobe, “And secondly, even if I did, it would.. not.. just be a quickie, darling.”

She pulled back and stood up straight, looking down at Sirius. A deep pink blush was spreading up from his neck over the entirety of his handsome face, his mouth hung slightly open and his eyes were wide, a glazed look in them.

She grinned, starting to walk away, “Have fun with the fangirls, Sirius!”

He was still staring after her when the first wave of girlies washed over him, clamouring for his attention in various tried, tested and (to him, at that moment) very tedious ways.

They were all to be disappointed. Sirius swatted them off like they were so many irritating mosquitoes, stretching out & lying on his back with his hands crossed under his head, staring up into the blue of the early autumn sky, deep in thought.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

She leisurely strolled back to the castle, sniggering to herself at how easy it had been to wind Sirius up into a tight spring.

Her smirk dropped somewhat though, when she contemplated the bigger picture. What a shitshow.

She was slap-bang in the middle of the biggest cliché the fates had ever created. Best friend really fancies best friend, but won’t admit it in case it either doesn’t work out and/or ruins the friendship. Yeah... that old chestnut.

Sighing, she made her way to the Gryffindor common room, spotting Lily and Mary on their favourite corner sofa. She plopped herself down next to them, instantly becoming enmeshed in the girlie gossip which was currently in progress.

However her mind drifted to the beginning of that school year, their sixth, when she and Sirius had met up again after the summer holidays on the Hogwarts Express. She’d been frankly amazed at the change in him after such a short time.

From awkward, gawky schoolboy to man-god in the space of a couple of months.

She learned from him that he’d run away from Grimmauld Place at the beginning of the holidays and was now living at the Potters’. She was very glad to hear that, knowing what he’d gone through at the hands of his parents. He certainly seemed to be thriving there, having apparently sprouted quite a bit over the summer.

Everything about him suddenly seemed long & slim. Long legs and arms, with big hands and big feet to match. Long slim fingers. Long slim feet & toes which she stared at, fascinated, every time she caught a glimpse of them.

She’d instantly known that their friendship would change in future. She’d never thought of Sirius as anything except a little schoolboy buddy, but over the summer he’d emerged from his post-pubescent chrysalis as a hot, sexy teenager with shoulder-length hair, designer stubble and attitude with a capital A.

He’d always attracted a fair bit of female attention over the years. He’d never really acted on it though, too caught up in Marauders mischief to care.

But holy hell...now? All the girlies were going to go batshit crazy over him.

He’d also - right there on the train no less! - boxed her into a corner and immediately started flirting up a storm, which had mildly terrified her. This was the guy who, only two months before, had been a kind of surrogate brother figure in her life for the previous 5 years.

Now he was making sexual innuendoes and inviting her into his bed every five minutes. She just couldn’t figure out his agenda.

As predicted, at the start of term, the Hogwarts female population - irrespective of year - quickly lined up behind Sirius and adoringly dogged his every footstep. As did a fair proportion of the male population, it has to be said.

Sirius quickly accepted his new-found godlike status & revelled in it. Flirting his way around school and through classes and meals. Getting caught in broom closets, empty classrooms and corridors, snogging for Britain.

It was only 4 weeks into the new term and she already found it all mildly disgusting. Hence she’d decided to knock the flirtatious idiot back down a peg or two every chance she got.

However, his flirting behaviour with her hadn’t dialled back at all, if anything it had increased, and this is what she was pondering on.

Her name was suddenly yelled right into her face. Lily was staring at her as if she was an alien.

“Uh, sorry - what?”

“We’ve been waiting on you to answer Mary’s question, for like, 15 minutes.”

“Oh shut up! I just zoned out for a minute or two.”

Mary sniggered, “And no prizes for guessing who the subject matter of said zoning out was!!”

She sighed. “OK, OK, alright - yes - it was Sirius.”

Scoffing noises from her friends.

“Look - I just can’t get my head round the way he’s still behaving towards me. Flirting & shit.”

She shook her head, and continued, “This was my annoying little ‘school brother’ 3 months ago! So he’s either had a brain meltdown and actually fancies me, or else he’s practicing all that crap on me to then use on his fan girls! And let’s be honest, one reason’s as bad as the other!”

They both exchanged significant looks, grinning at each other.

She huffed, “What’s wrong now?! I’ve just told you what’s on my mind!”

“Can you, hand on heart, swear you don’t fancy the pants off Sirius?” asked Lily.

“Look, I can see why girls find him attractive, yeah. But you’re forgetting that for five years, he was...”

“Yeah, yeah,” interrupted Mary, rolling her eyes, “..your surrogate little brother.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

@omgrachwrites

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

#sirius black x reader #ben barnes #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfiction #ben barnes as sirius black #sirius black #sirius black fan fic

59 notes · View notes

ilguna · 3 years ago

Text

Berceuse - Chapter Two

summary: you can’t protect her forever.

warnings; swearing. murder plot ?

wc; 10.1k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

It’s a good thing that Alyssum has a high pain tolerance, otherwise she’d be doing a lot more than gritting her teeth right now. The sound of the wax ripping off her skin is enough to bring tears to her eyes, even though it’s not actually taking any hair with it.

The prep team is trying to be gentle, Alyssum can tell by their movements. They’ll warn her ahead of time, tell her when they know it’s going to be particularly brutal. It wasn’t until an hour ago, did she realize that they must have worked on you when it was your Hunger Games.

It must also be why they have this look on their face, like they know Alyssum but are too afraid to bring it up. She already knows Elysia has watched her grow up, so it’s not really a surprise that these people have watched her too. Of course, Alyssum hasn’t been in the public eye for nine years, this is her first appearance in a while. It must be some form of whiplash, from seeing a toddler to a teenager.

At the beginning of the session, the prep team had taken enough time to introduce themselves and what they would be focusing on. Cleo, a blonde girl with artificial curls, focuses mainly on the smaller details; Alyssum’s nails, special effects, and clothing adjustments if they’re needed. She’s talkative but polite and curious.

Leo, the only boy with dark orange hair and freckles like stars across his cheeks, is her makeup artist. He’s got gentle fingers, and a contagious laugh. His accent is stronger than the other two’s, and he always tilts his head when he's done with a sentence. He’s managed to find a way to reshape her face so far.

And finally, there’s Beth. Naturally dark and wavy hair, pretty brown eyes. She’s the quietest, doesn’t talk unless she’s genuinely interested. She does Alyssum’s hair, scrubbing her scalp and carefully washing the soap and other products from her hair.

Alyssum can see why you like them. You don’t talk about them often, only sometimes in the boarding school, and if it’s at home, it’s always regarding parade outfits. Otherwise, it’s always in passing and never in detail.

Well, at least she can finally put a face to all the names she hears so often. It’s one thing to look forward to, to see all the people that had saved her older sister before she went into the Hunger Games. The ones that gave you a bright start and all the right pointers to help you win.

“I think we should hose her down one more time.” Cleo says, her hair is pulled up and out of her face, there’s a faint glisten of sweat across her forehead.

“And we can give her the lotion.” Beth says, giving Alyssum a reassuring smile, “Then she’ll be all done.”

Alyssum smiles back.

They took their time with the finishing touches, making sure they hadn’t missed any patches of hair, ticked everything off their list, and did any special adjustments that were required during the session. Once that’s done, and they’re sure that they’re not going to need her again, they leave to get Laurel, her stylist.

Alyssum vaguely remembers meeting Laurel, and it wasn’t during your Victory Tour when you’d won. No, she was too young to actually realize that she should be taking in her surroundings to hold to her memory. Instead, Alyssum remembers meeting Laurel during Annie’s Victory Tour, when she came to visit during the winter, at the very beginning.

She can’t seem to recall much, besides the obvious fact that Laurel was much, much taller than she was at the time. Alyssum had only been eight at the time, and back then, she was only beginning her training at the boarding school. The reality of what type of world she lives in didn’t quite set in just yet.

Alyssum ties the robe shut, per Beth’s instructions. Laurel trusts them enough to not double-check their work. Not to mention, there’s not much to go over in the first place, she’s still very young.

When the door in front of her slowly starts opening, Alyssum sits up a bit taller on the medical table she’s sitting on. It reminds her of the check ups she has every month to make sure she’s growing properly.

A tall woman with dark hair is revealed, and immediately, Alyssum knows that it’s Laurel. She can’t help herself when she gets off of the table and heads forward, arms extended for a hug.

Laurel opens only one of her arms, but squeezes Alyssum into her side tightly, a slight laugh bubbling out, “How have you been, Aly?”

“Good, if you ignore the reaping.” She smiles, allowing Laurel to direct her out of the adjacent room and into the next one.

It has a few couches, and a coffee table in the middle of them with food displayed.

“Still passing all of your classes?”

“Yes, of course. (Y/n) and Reed make it hard not to.”

Alyssum takes a seat on the couch, hands resting in her lap. It isn’t until Laurel motions to the food in front of her, does she realize that the food is for her, not for Laurel. It’s also at that moment, she remembers that she hasn’t eaten anything since breakfast this morning, which had to have been hours ago.

With no argument, Alyssum takes only the food she recognizes, not feeling adventurous. The food last night on the train was delicious, there’s no question about it. The problem is that, in less than two hours, she’ll be in front of a large crowd who already knows her name, and her entire background. The last thing that Alyssum wants is to get sick all over the chariot.

“(Y/n) requested for me to be careful with what I dress you in.” Laurel says.

“That’s probably for the best.” she pauses between bites, “Reed likes it better if I don’t show too much skin. I think it was the same way for (Y/n).”

A knowing smile crosses her stylists’ face, “Yes, that’s why we had to change her outfit. I have something that’s a little more modest for you, too.”

“He’ll like that.” Alyssum rests her plate on her knees, “What will it be?”

“A dress, we’re going for an underwater princess theme. It’ll cover your skin in the right places, all while making you look appealing to the potential sponsors in the audience.”

“Has (Y/n) seen it?”

“Yes, she’s already approved of it.”

Alyssum lets out a hum as she nods, trying to picture it to herself. It’ll probably be blue, that’s all that District Four is known for being. A vast blue ocean with violent waves, green seaweed that traps the legs, brightly-colored coral reefs that are a sore to the eye, and endless amounts of potential outfits that come from fish, alone.

A blue dress, something breezy because it represents the wind that comes from the ocean. Likely ripped, or maybe wet to give the illusion that she’s just come out of the water, and plenty of jewelry to secure the idea that she’s a princess. This idea has been done before, there’s no doubt about it, it’s Alyssum’s turn to represent the idea.

She finishes her plate, setting it onto the table, then gives Laurel a bright smile, “When do we start?”

A couple of hours later, Alyssum is standing in front of a mirror in the dressing room. The dress she’s wearing is lopsided, with one side being shorter than the other. The short side goes to her knees, the longer going to her ankles. It’s ripped, just as she thought it would be, and layered to make the dress bigger. The fabric is soft against her skin, almost ticklish.

The top half of the dress is halter--no sleeves, the support is in the neck--it’s a little tighter in the middle, but the back is open to make up for it. And then they gave her white no-show socks for her, also white, dress flats. As for jewelry, so far the only important piece seems to be on her head, the pearl crown.

Of course, she has the whole matching set; the pearl earrings, the pearl necklace, and the pearl bracelet. None of it compares to the crown, or even the diamond ring that they managed to find in the drawers.

Her makeup is mild, most of it being rainbow highlights so that the sun rays catch her face the right way. Leo insisted on light blue eyeshadow, blush, and clear lip gloss, Cleo made sure Alyssum had blue nails. As for Beth, she decided on a simple halo braid, with white ribbon woven through. There’s a few loose hairs hanging in Alyssum’s face that were promptly curled once the braid was done. And as if the ribbons weren’t enough, Cleo tucked in a few white flowers.

It isn’t until she sees Paslee at the chariots, does she realize how severely overdressed she feels. So much jewelry, flowers, and makeup. Only for Paslee to look simple, with a suit and a crown on his brow. She does notice the matching flower tucked into the suit’s pocket.

Alyssum has half the mind to glare at you for allowing this to happen. She understands that the stylists’ all have a vision, and in order to stay as a stylist, they need to go above and beyond. She just thinks it’s ridiculous, and embarrassing that she looks like a walking mannequin.

Until she takes a look around her, and realizes that she’s not the only one. She’s far from being the only girl overdressed next to their male counterparts. District One is dressed in glitter, District Two is a little more naked this year, and it’s all the same for the districts to her right.

“It looks like you’re going to get most of the attention.” Paslee says, nudging Alyssum’s arm with his elbow. He gives her a grin, trying to be polite and calm her nerves.

She doesn’t know how he’s so at ease. Everyone back home is going to see them two, everyone from the boarding school will be taking pointers on how to or not to act. It doesn’t matter if they fail or succeed, the two of them will both be examples. Their mistakes picked apart and shamed by the other victors, by the future victors.

And her brothers, and family friends, who have seen you go through this exact same situation, will be seeing all the differences and similarities. Practically experts all by themselves since they experienced it second-hand. Affected, but not directly.

Still, Alyssum manages to muster a smile to give back to Paslee, “I’ll try and save some for you.”

Paslee laughs, not minding the fact that he’s drawing attention. As soon as you and Finnick approach, dressed formally in your own ways, business begins. Laurel circles Alyssum, trying to catch any last-minute mistakes, picking at areas in the dress she realizes she doesn’t like, and tucking any fabric that needs to get out of the way.

When it comes to Pleurisy and Paslee, he just has a few curls out of place, and they fix the flower in his pocket by safely-pinning it so it doesn’t move anymore. Other than that, his shoes are still shined, and he knows better than to make any big movements in the suit, afraid that it’ll rip.

“Okay,” you breathe, “You two already know that there are cameras, so be wary of any facial expressions.”

Alyssum nods.

“Everything will come to you naturally, so don’t worry about doing the wrong or right thing.” Finnick smiles, “Just remember that whatever you do today, will be your personality for the rest of the week.”

Paslee stands a bit taller, “What about the arena?”

“Facades don’t last very long,” you say, “Remember when I showed you my games? Or what about Johanna’s?”

It dawns on him, “Wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

“Exactly.”

The anthem begins, silencing any other thoughts. The large doors slide open, allowing light to fill the hall they stand in, revealing them to the crowded streets. This is when Laurel and Pleurisy jump into action, forcing Alyssum and Paslee onto the chariot just as District One begins to move out.

“Turn inwards a bit!” You shout over the roar, hoping they hear it.

Alyssum turns her body so that she’s more towards Paslee, than the crowd. She takes in a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds while she feels her heart beat in her chest. When she breathes again, she feels slightly more relaxed, trying to ignore the impending doom feeling that’s stuck in the back of her mind.

The chariot begins moving, leaving her worries behind her. There’s no time to focus on the wobbliness of her knees, or the dryness of her mouth. She tries to suppress the smile sneaking onto her face, but the moment cheers erupt into screams, she can’t help it anymore.

Alyssum is your little sister, she has a big name to live up to. She may only be twelve, but there’s a whole list of people that are expecting great things, inside and outside of the arena. Forget everyone else here, Alyssum is underneath a microscope.

She lifts her hand and waves to the crowd of people on her left, trying to make eye contact with as many people as possible. How many of them were your sponsors? Will they sponsor her? Do any of them actually like her?

Then she hears her name screamed, head whipping in the direction, eyes searching to see a woman dressed in red. The woman hurls a blue rose at Alyssum, making her jerk to the side to catch it in time. Thankfully, all thorns have been removed from the stem, otherwise there’s no doubt that she’d be bleeding.

With the flower in hand, Alyssum holds it up for the woman to see, breaks a good portion of the stem, and then tucks it into her hair. Just as she moves on, more gifts are being thrown at her. Paslee, who’s begun to notice, can’t help but to laugh with her. It’s all so ridiculous.

Alyssum opens her mouth, leaning over to talk to Paslee, when the crowd explodes behind them. She thought that they’d been loud for her, but there’s another district that seems to have captured attention.

Paslee says something, she doesn’t catch it. Her eyes flicker upwards, looking to find some sort of indication on what’s going on. Should she be panicking or upset? All she knows is that she can’t turn around to look. It’ll just take the attention away from her, and redirect it to the other district.

She sees it on a television screen above her. Her smile slowly fades, she nudges Paslee with her elbow to get his attention. He follows her gaze, and soon, he’s no longer smiling either.

District Twelve is on fire.

Both of them, the girl and the boy, are on fire. They’re dressed in neck-to-ankle black, complete with a cape. They’re so bright, it makes the career districts forgettable. Alyssum tries not to be mad, making a genuine effort to convince herself that she should be happy for District Twelve, they’ve actually become memorable for once.

She can’t keep the thought process going on for long, though. The Hunger Games is a competition, tributes are posed against each other from the start. Those sponsors that could’ve been hers, are now possibly theirs.

District One’s chariot begins to enter the City Circle, signifying that the parade is already halfway over. All that’s left is the president’s speech, and then they’ll be on their way back to the hall that they came from in the Tribute Center.

Knowing that there’s going to be more cameras, Alyssum fixes her stance so that she’s standing taller again, forcing the smile to come back to her face. She can still hear the cheering and clapping behind her, the Capitol isn’t done with getting their fill of the Twelve tributes.

Each of the twelve chariots fill the loop of the City Circle, on the buildings nearby, Alyssum can see that every window is packed. With how close they are to the president’s mansion, it just means that these people are the most expensive. They are the ones that Alyssum should be wanting to sponsor her.

Since District Four’s chariot is already stopped, and now they’re just waiting for the others to come to a halt behind them, Alyssum looks up to the windows and gives a slight wave. Nothing hurts right now, anything she doesn’t do could set her up for failure. If she does too much, then it’s the same thing.

With the music ending flourishly, she redirects her attention to the balcony, where President Snow has stepped on to make his appearance for the speech. He gives his traditional welcome, but Alyssum’s focused on the television screen still, watching as the camera crew does their usual stop-and-go on the tributes in the chariots. She’s happy to see that she does get a few extra seconds, probably just long enough for Caesar and Claudius to comment, before moving on to the other districts.

They stay on Twelve the longest.

When the speech is finally over, the horses bring the chariots around the circle one last time for a final look, then they bring the tributes into the Tribute Center.

The chariot barely has enough time to come to a stop before the prep teams have surrounded Alyssum and Paslee, clapping their hands and squealing out praise. Alyssum tries to kindly accept what they have to say, but her eyes are on District Twelve, wanting to see who their stylist is. Only a genius pulls something like that out of thin air, and they’re brave to do it for Twelve in the first place.

The first thing that she notices is how she’s not the only one looking. Many, many other tributes around the girl and boy from Twelve are staring, and they’re not friendly looks either. This is enough for Alyssum to decide that she doesn’t need to hop on the train of hate, the other tributes already have that handled.

Just as she goes to turn away, her eyes catch Twelve’s girl--Katniss’--eyes. And it’s in those seconds, does Alyssum realize she’s got this whole thing backwards. Yes, the Hunger Games is a competition, which is the exact reason why she should be trying to get ahead at any possible chance. Even if there’s no guarantee it works, or that it might mess up future plans, it’s worth a try.

This is why Alyssum smiles, and waves long enough for Katniss to wave back. The two of them have got a lot of spotlight on them at the moment, only for different reasons. They could always bounce back and forth, desperate for the most shining airtime, or they could become allies and use it to their advantage.

Katniss gives Alyssum a shocked smile.

A hand is placed on Alyssum’s upper back, drawing her from the interaction she was having. When she looks over, she can see that it’s you, and you’re giving a curious look to where Alyssum was just staring.

“Ready to go?” you ask, once you don’t see anything.

“Yeah.” She beams.

Together, in a group, they all move to take an elevator up to their floor. On the way over, Paslee and Alyssum take a look at the careers while they can, since this is their preview to the training rooms. Of course, they saw them on television, but it’s nothing compared to seeing them in the flesh.

And from what Alyssum gathers in less than a minute, the most threatening district in their career group is going to be District Two. Just like she had figured yesterday, when she saw the reaping recaps. The girl is short but bulky, and the boy is average and strong. He’s been training his entire life, Alyssum knows it.

Elysia calls for the elevator, and holds the door so that everyone can go inside, with the exception of the stylists and prep teams. Elysia presses the button that will lead them to District Four’s apartment, in the meantime, Alyssum stares through the glass walls and watches as the ground gets further away from her.

This is her first--and probably last--time in an elevator.

In the apartment, Paslee and Alyssum suddenly have free reign until dinner. Elysia shows them their rooms again, and they’re bigger than the ones on the train. Alyssum figures that she may as well shower, not really wanting to stay in her costume until dinnertime.

She hums to herself as she picks out a comfortable evening outfit, jeans and a shirt, and gently picks up the shoes to lay by the door. The shower in the Capitol is much more complicated than the one on the train. She sets everything down on the counter, and messes with the control panel on the shower until it turns on, and it’s a respectable temperature.

The makeup runs straight down the drain, easily forgettable. She doesn’t need to wash her hair again, it’s been done plenty of times today already, so she just keeps it in the braid. The most she does is take out the flowers and toss them in a nearby trash can in the bathroom. After that, she’s left to scrub dirt and sweat from her skin, thinking how it’s such a waste of time to spend hours preparing her for just one chariot ride that doesn’t even last thirty minutes.

Just as Alyssum’s finished getting dressed, Elysia is knocking on the door to let her know that dinner’s ready. She slips on the shoes that she set beside the door, and then heads out of the room.

The first thing that Alyssum notices is how the stylists are here, which means they must be joining supper. It’s perfect, actually, because Alyssum has a question about District Twelve’s stylist, not really over how they gave Katniss and her tribute mate such a big debut.

You’re sitting at the table with Finnick, Laurel and Pleurisy, the four of you being engrossed in conversation. Elysia is nowhere to be seen, presumably retrieving Paslee. Alyssum almost feels like she’s intruding on the moment, until you’re motioning her over to join.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, giving her a side hug.

She smiles slightly, shrugging, “Good? I don’t know.”

“You’re not nervous or anything?”

Alyssum pauses long enough to realize what you’re implying. It isn’t about what she’s feeling at the moment, it’s any worries that might have come up from this morning to now. For example, the tribute parade.

“Oh, well,” Alyssum moves around the table to take an empty seat near to you, “I just wanted to know if Twelve’s stylist was new, since it’s a different approach to the district, instead of the usual coal miner stuff.”

Finnick nods, a smug look on his face when he looks at you, “I told you.”

You briefly glare, “I said I wasn’t sure because I saw her waving to the tributes, I never said you were wrong.”

“Your tone of voice did.”

“That’s--” you start.

“--not the point.” Laurel finishes smoothly, looking over Alyssum carefully, “And you’re smart for picking that up, because he is new.”

“Should we be worried about the interviews?” Paslee asks, coming down the steps with Elysia. He’s also changed into something more comfortable, taking a seat next to Alyssum.

“It’s all about personality and becoming memorable, as always.” Elysia tries.

“That’s not what I meant,” Paslee shakes his head, “I meant outfit-wise. If he pulled that out of nowhere, then what else will he be able to pull?”

If Alyssum was worried about Paslee not picking up on things earlier, she isn’t anymore. She knows that he’s older than her and all, but sometimes people skip over the small details because they don’t think it’s important.

“We’re going to try and find a way to make you guys pop too,” Pleurisy says, “We just have to change the outfits that we had originally laid out.”

“That’s comforting.” Paslee mutters, it’s hardly audible, and it looks like the others didn’t pick it up, with the exception of Alyssum.

It’s silent in the room for a long moment, allowing the tension to settle in further. Alyssum knows that all the outfits are supposed to be the stylists idea, which is the exact reason why they have so many outfits planned for the future. In a situation like this, though, planning ahead does nothing but screw you over.

Well, Pleurisy did just say they have to change the original outfits, anyway. It doesn’t hurt to try and throw out some ideas.

“What if the outfits changed pictures?” Alyssum asks Laurel.

She sits up taller, “What do you mean?”

“Um… well, like an optical illusion but if I moved my body, the scenery on the dress would change to something else because of how I was standing.”

It’s quiet for a moment, Alyssum begins to doubt the idea, maybe it wasn’t smart after all.

“Oh,” Elysia says, “Oh, I get it, like those Valentines cards that kids hand out in school.”

Laurel shifts her attention to her, “Is that what she means?”

“People hand out cards?” Paslee asks.

“It must be a Capitol thing.” Finnick tells him.

The light goes off in Pleurisy’s head too, “Lenticular! It’s called lenticular, I was just talking to Esmeray about it.”

“Do you think it’s possible to pull off?” Laurel asks, “Besides the materials, I think we could order it all tonight.”

Pleurisy is nodding quickly, “Yes, we just need to figure out the pictures--”

Paslee pats Alyssum on the back, “Quick thinking.”

Alyssum smiles, “Thank me later.”

Dinner kicks off after that, the Avoxes serving the meals one at a time. It’s just like how it was on the train, starting lightly with savory soups, and slowly moving into more of the heavier, more filling, foods. About halfway through, Alyssum decides that she’s full and would like to give her stomach time to settle before continuing.

The conversation keeps on the interview outfits for a while, Laurel and Pleurisy allow everyone to chime in and ask questions. Every now and then, they’ll actually ask for input on what the dress should look like. Like base color, where the pictures should go, what the top half of the dress should look like--it’s already decided that it should be puffed out and end above her knees.

Or with Paslee, what type of suit, if the pants should be the same material or just a plain base color. If his pictures should resemble something different or similar to Alyssum. It even goes down to the question of whether or not Alyssum and Paslee should match during the interviews, it’s common but not exactly liked by tributes.

For now, the two of them agree to it, because they haven’t found a need to say no just yet. Maybe later on, if the two of them have suddenly lost interest in an alliance and found two different groups to stick with. Alyssum has a feeling that Paslee is going to naturally drift towards the careers, which isn’t a horrible idea for him. He’s seventeen, built like the rest of them. Alyssum is still small, she’s twelve, and she’d be the youngest out of all of them.

Then again, there’s no one else to really form an alliance with. Of course, there’s always the other twelve year-old girl from Eleven, or the occasional other young tributes from the less popular distracts. That’s a whole problem by itself, though, because they’re typically not prepared for the Hunger Games, and therefore become a danger the more that time goes on.

And Alyssum can’t forget about her interaction with Katniss just a few hours ago. She’s an older sister, Alyssum saw her volunteer over the younger girl. Alyssum knows it could mean a number of things, like Katniss just wanting to protect her. But out of all the Hunger Games that Alyssum has watched, she’s never seen an older sibling volunteer over the younger one, because either way it’s a death sentence. Both of them will die.

No one is driven to volunteer that quickly just because they want to protect their younger siblings. There’s always a part of them that knows that they can win the Hunger Games. And for that exact reason alone, makes Alyssum think that Katniss can be a good ally. It’s just a matter of getting close enough to see what she knows.

Also, if Katniss does end up showing promise before the Hunger Games, the last thing that Alyssum would want is to be an enemy of some kind. Even a little bit of friendship between two tributes can go a long way. She’s seen it happen before, and it typically pays off in the end. Even if that means to sacrifice certain alliances.

After dinner, the Avoxes bring around a tall cake, painted a light shade of green. When they cut it open, candy pearls spill out the middle, clattering against the glass plate. They dish out a healthy serving for everyone to have, but with how rich the cake is, Alyssum can’t get through half of it before feeling full.

Once they’re all done at the table, they move on to watch the recap of the tribute parade. Honestly, Alyssum doesn’t like having to watch it over, it just means she gets to see the Capitol freak out over Twelve again. She’s tired of talking about them, at least until tomorrow.

The good news is that Alyssum and Paslee had been the center of attention until they had come out. If there’s anything to build off of, it would be that. But she already figured that was the case.

“It’s been a big day,” you start, looking over to Paslee and Alyssum, “I’m sure you two are exhausted.” You reach over, tucking one of the loose hanging hairs out of Alyssum’s face and behind her ear. There’s a gentle smile on your lips, “Finnick and I damn near passed out after our parade.”

Finnick places his hand on your upper back, a smile beginning on his own face, “We skipped dinner entirely.”

“Rest.” your attention diverts to Paslee, “Meet us here tomorrow morning so we can help you with the training session. The first day always means the most, the two days that follow are just as important. We’ll be here if you have any questions.”

“I’ll wake you in the morning if you don’t get up yourself.” Elysia pipes, sitting up straight.

It’s clear that they’re queueing them to go, so Alyssum doesn’t argue. She looks at Laurel, “Thank you for the tribute parade. And if you see the others, can you thank them too? I appreciate them being gentle.” she turns to you and Finnick, “Goodnight, love you.”

“Love you too.” you say, Finnick’s voice echoes yours.

Just like that, Alyssum heads up the steps, leaving Paslee to say his own goodnight. She doesn’t go into her room immediately, though. She stands in the hallway, hands tucked into the pockets of her jeans while she waits for him to catch up. When he does, he notices her and stands on the other side of the hall to make it look like he’s gone to his room.

“Do you want to try out the career group?” She asks.

“What else do you have in mind?” Paslee asks back.

Alyssum tilts her head slightly, eyes drifting from his face when she hears you and the others start speaking to each other again, “Katniss and her friend have made a pretty good impression.”

“They’re from Twelve,” he says, tone disinterested.

“(Y/n) and Finnick were fifteen and fourteen when they won together, an occurrence that the Capitol hadn’t allowed in like--thirty years!” she brings her hands out to motion, “I’m not talking about odds here, because they’ve always been wonky with my family. I’m saying we pool sponsors together if they end up showing some promise.”

Paslee doesn’t look convinced, his face twists and he’s shaking his head still. Alyssum’s only heard stories about what happened between you and Finnick during your time in the Capitol. There’s one story you tell to all the newcomers of the boarding school to give them an idea of what it’s really like. And the big lesson that normally derives from it, is that alliances don’t last.

You and Finnick had been allies until the two of you split, you to the careers and him to a group of lesser known tributes. In a way, it worked out in the end because the two of you did end up back together. The only problem is that’s not always the case.

While Alyssum was watching the tribute parade, she noticed something very specific, and it’s that out of all of the districts, only two of them were friendly to each other. And she means that she and Paslee had looked at each other, and Katniss and her friend were holding hands. Out of the other ten districts, neither of the tributes even bothered to acknowledge each other.

Alyssum may not be perfect, but she’s not stupid enough to ignore the facts. She knows that it’s not often that tributes are going to like each other, especially coming from the same district. So, why not try and create an alliance that’ll actually work? Not even Districts One and Two were talking to each other.

“Okay, well, you don’t have to like the idea,” Alyssum gives him a funny smile, “It’s just there in case it’s the better option.”

“I don’t…” Paslee trails off.

She’s backing away toward her room, eyebrows raised, “You don’t what?”

He doesn’t answer her, she goes into her room. You’ve said it many times inside of the boarding school, that only the tributes that have been drawn to go into the games can assign their fate. No one else can make these decisions for her, and dwelling on just one person can very well ruin her plan.

She gets ready for bed, changing into a pair of shorts and a shirt before curling into bed. The bed is soft and comfortable, the room cold enough to enjoy, and the blankets keeping her warm, she falls asleep in no time. Even though there are nightmares waiting in the days coming.

Elysia’s insistent knocking wakes Alyssum, she stands in the doorway, waiting patiently until Alyssum can finally comprehend what she’s saying, “First day of training, you’re not going to want to skip breakfast.”

Alyssum yawns, using the heels of her hands to rub her eyes.

“All uniforms are pre-picked by the stylists, yours should be in the closet.”

When she lifts her head, she sees a blurry image of Elysia standing at the door, one hand resting on the frame, the other on her hip. Alyssum has to blink a few times in order to see better.

“Okay, thank you.”

Elysia nods her head once, and then whirls around to leave. The door slides shut automatically, and Alyssum is left to get ready by herself. She silently makes her way around the room, throwing any blankets that might have ended up on the floor, back onto the bed.

The closet is still unnecessarily big, so it takes her a moment to scan the shelves to see which clothes Laurel had laid out for her. There’s a sports bra, a tank top and leggings all folded together on the shelf. She picks it all up, and grabs any extra items she’s going to need while getting ready.

She spends a good minute staring at the window that takes up the entire wall, not liking the idea of the people below seeing her sleeping--and changing. She groans and heads into the bathroom instead, changing into the training outfit. It’s white in most areas, the accent color being black. Her leggings are entirely black, and the shoes are a repeat of the shirt.

Alyssum takes her time trying to brush her hair, knowing that there’s going to be snarls. The blow dryers that the shower comes with were extremely good at getting it all out last night. Today, it’s Alyssum’s problem. And she ends up tying it out of her face, anyway, not wanting to be bothered by it all day.

It isn’t until she’s finished getting ready, does she realize that she’s missing something very important. She stands in the bathroom, staring at herself for a long time, going over each body part individually, thinking that she’ll catch it that way. She’s right, her eyes stop on her neck.

The necklace isn’t there.

Alyssum straightens up, the sleep completely leaving her body. Did she leave it on the train last night? You even went out of your way last night to ask to make sure she wouldn’t, and here she is. Then again, it could have happened this morning when the prep team had jumped at her for the grooming.

Did she even have it this morning?

Alyssum leaves her bedroom, going into the dining room. You’re already sitting out there with Finnick and Elysia, Paslee nowhere to be seen. He’s probably still getting ready, or searching for his training outfit, since it wasn’t in any obvious spot like Alyssum thought it would be.

“Good morning,” You hum, giving a smile to Alyssum, “How’d you sleep?”

Alyssum shrugs, “Pretty good, actually.” She takes her seat at the table, “Did you take my necklace off the train?”

Your smile widens into a grin, and Alyssum immediately knows that it’s the case, “Yes, and I already gave it to Elysia. The Gamemakers will have a look at it, and if it’s approved, Laurel will give it to you before you go back into the arena.”

“Okay,” she falls back against her chair, relieved that she’s not going to be in charge of it for the next couple of days.

“What about you?” Finnick asks Paslee, “Any tokens?”

Paslee nods a little, bringing up his wrist to show off a silver bracelet, “It belonged to Marsh. He forgot to take it into the arena with him.”

Finnick hold his hand out to take it, “Does it have any poison, knives, needles, anything that might get you in trouble?”

“No, it’s just this chain.” he drops it into Finnick’s palm.

“It should pass inspection, then.” Elysia takes it from Finnick, placing it into a pocket on the inside of her jacket.

Breakfast is then served by the Avoxes, taking away the chance to continue the conversation any further. Alyssum eats the assorted dishes, being careful to avoid foods she knows that she doesn’t like, and anything that might make her feel sick inside of the training room. Not to mention, she will be able to eat lunch in a few hours.

You and Finnick finish much faster than they do, and don’t wait for them to finish eating before Finnick begins, “You have to remember that the Hunger Games is a competition. Save your best skill for the private session with the Gamemakers, that happens in two days.”

“Your goal is to impress the Gamemakers, not the tributes around you. Everything you do inside of the gym from today to the private session will be observed and noted. You are careers, they’re expecting great things from you. And there’s no use in saying ‘no pressure’ because the pressure is on.”

Alyssum’s nodding along, so is Paslee. They understand, the two of them have spent years in the boarding school for this reason. They have trained for years, and in doing that, have found the skills that they’re good at, and honed the ones that weren’t as good, they’re prepared. Especially Paslee more than Alyssum.

“Don’t force an alliance with the careers.” you say suddenly, eyes on Alyssum, “I’m talking to you, Aly.”

“I know you are.”

“The careers don’t like tributes younger than them because the younglings are hard to control and sometimes unpredictable. I’m not saying you are, but the more you force them, the more they’re going to deny.”

“Actually, now that you say that,” Finnick looks at you, “Maybe she shouldn’t try at all.”

Alyssum sits up in her chair now, mouth falling open. She wants to object, because that’s not fair at all.

“If she’s good in the training center and scores high, the careers will target her and take her down because they know that she’s weak to some capacity. I mean, look at her and tell me you wouldn’t be able to take her down in a fight.” Finnick explains.

“Well, of course I can.”

“No, I mean look at her from a tribute perspective…” he looks back at Alyssum, the room is silent for a while.

And then you blow air out of your cheeks, “The Twelve tributes we went against.”

“Exactly.” Finnick says, happy that you’ve figured out what he was thinking about, “We were young then too.”

You hum, “She still needs sponsors.”

Elysia clears her throat, “How about you try at eighty percent and not one hundred?”

“Yes, don’t make an actual effort to be noticed.” Finnick agrees.

Alyssum nods slowly, her mouth has since closed. She’s still not exactly thrilled by the idea of hanging back, because it could cost her the training score, but then she remembers that if it doesn’t work out with the careers, she has a backup plan.

“Okay.” Alyssum smiles, “Easy peasy.”

Elysia checks her watch, “We have fifteen minutes before we have to leave. Meet me at the elevator by ten.”

She stands from the table, gives a pointed look to Alyssum and Paslee, and then leaves to the back room. You and Finnick also take this as a sign to get up, knwoing how much work has to be done before the games. And the interview outfits!

“We’ll be here when you get back.” You smile, “Good luck.”

“Thank you.” Alyssum says, heading back to her room.

She brushes her teeth first, making sure that her mouth hurts by how much toothpaste she uses. After, she searches the drawers for some type of body mist that she can put on, on top of the deodorant and everything else she applied before breakfast. She doesn’t want to smell horrible by the end of the day, so she’ll do anything possible to prevent it.

She spends her remaining time trying to find tomorrow’s outfit so that she doesn’t have to search. She places it in the same spot where she found today’s clothes, and hopes that no one will come around later to move it. By the time she’s done reorganizing the closet to her liking, it’s time for her to go.

Elysia is waiting at the elevator, just as she promised she would be. It’s a minute or so later before Paslee is joining them. She presses the button, the doors shut, and the only noise that fills the silence is the sound of the elevator going down. And right when Alyssum is prepared for it to stop at the base floor, it continues.

“The gymnasium is underground.” Elysia says, as if she’s reading their minds. When the doors open again, she starts off first, “I can’t go inside of the room with you, I’ll walk you as far as possible.”

And she does, taking them halfway through the hallway before she decides that they need to show some independence. If the other tributes see her in the doorway, then it’ll be obvious that they had her walk them up. Besides, it’s not really much of a problem, they can see the door now.

“Thank you!” Alyssum shouts, waving goodbye to Elysia before they both head inside.

The doors open automatically, allowing them to get their first look at the room they’ll be training in for the next three days. Alyssum can’t help but to look at each individual station, noting what they are and which ones she’d like to visit before the day is over.

They aren’t the last to arrive, and they aren’t the first either. That’s the good news, because punctuality is important, just not enough to be the first people inside. As long as they come inside some time during the middle, then they won’t be remembered. Even though the other tributes are looking at them now. She wonders what’s on their minds.

Paslee and Alyssum are stopped a little after the doors, being told that they need to wear a mandatory number. They don’t specify why, but it doesn’t take a genius to realize that it’s because the gamemakers need a way to keep track of them. There’s going to be twenty-four tributes inside, she’s almost certain that the gamemakers just think of them all as a blur by now. So many faces, only one of them will survive.

Once the patch is placed on their backs, it’s time for them to pick a place to stand. Her eyes wander, dancing over the different Capitol personnel, glancing briefly at the gamemakers in the box above, and the tributes standing in a circle. Alyssum laces her fingers together, trying to keep level breathing.

These are her opponents. No one here right now is a friend.

She doesn’t even see District Twelve.

The only thing that matters is that the other careers are here, standing together in a group. They’ve already formed their alliance, and they seem pretty friendly for the most part. At first, they pay Alyssum and Paslee no attention, continuing their conversation, filling the air with their laughter.

It isn’t until the blonde girl from One glances, and does a double-take, do the rest of them follow.

“Smile.” Alyssum murmurs, trying to be quiet as she looks away, “If they smile back, then join them. I’ll see you later, grab me if they’re interested.”

“Good luck.” Paslee says.

“Same to you.”

She moves away from the careers, choosing to stand in the back so she isn’t up front near the Capitol trainer. Her mind begins to run, starting slowly and speeding up the more time goes on. Is this the same head trainer that you had nine years ago? What about the people standing at the stations? Or the Gamemakers?

It takes everything in her not to hyperventilate, taking deep breaths through her nose. She’s walking in your shadow, everything she does will be compared to what you had done. Reaping, tribute parade, training score, interview outfits, first day debuts in the arena. It’s beginning to make her sick to her stomach. She shouldn’t have eaten so much this morning.

Thankfully, it’s only a couple more minutes before more tributes begin to trickle in. When District Twelve finally shows up and joins the circle, the head trainer is allowed to begin. Alyssum moves forward to see her, now.

Her name is Atala, she’s tall and clearly athletic. She says that each tribute is free to move station to station as they will, but the experts standing at each station aren’t allowed to move. Tributes are also not allowed to fight each other, which is why combat experts are provided if requested. It’s preferred that all items stay in their respective boundaries, but it’s not enforced.

Once the formalities are over, Atala begins going down a list of the stations available. Starting with survival, and moving on to combat. Alyssum can hardly note the names long enough to remember them. By the time Atala’s going down the combat list, Aly’s decided that she’ll just try and go to each station at least once.

Finally, Atala releases them, allowing everyone to move. Alyssum doesn’t move from her spot so that she can see exactly where everyone goes. The Careers, and Paslee, unsurprisingly head towards the weapons. She turns her body away from that direction, although she knows that she’ll have to go over there eventually.

It just leaves all the survival skills, like fire starting.

She knows all of this already, the most she can do is a basic overview of it all. Ten minutes, at the very least, should be enough to refresh her memory. And hopefully the experts can give her new and improved ways of doing things. District Four’s boarding school is very good, you and every other victor have made sure of that. Sometimes the Capitol can pull tricks out of their asses.

So, Alyssum starts with the fires. The expert is clearly delighted, letting her sit around the ring of rocks before beginning. When they ask if Aly has any previous experience with starting fires, or any clue on how to, it’s an easy answer. She lists off three different ways, and demonstrates all three, before moving on to different ideas.

Since she clearly doesn’t need help, the expert settles for small talk. It’s polite, but they dance around questions, obviously wanting to ask them but are too afraid to go through with it. Alyssum gives up some information willingly, she just keeps the personal stuff to herself.

Once she finally grows bored, she bids the expert goodbye, moving on to the next lucky expert that gets to watch her do their job for them. It’s just as she expected, she knows all of these stations already. The most she can do is refresh her memory every couple of minutes.

Until she gives up the rotation entirely and just stands in the middle of the room, hands on her hips while she tries to make her next decision. All of her logic has secured itself on the idea of the weapons, since she hasn’t had full training with them yet. Even in the boarding school, she was only allowed to dabble in it. It was next year, and the year to follow, where she was supposed to fully begin to understand it all.

The problem is that’s where the careers are, where Paslee is. She doesn’t want to just go over there and make it seem like she wants their attention. If anything, she wants to get some practice of her own. All they do is hoard that area and intimidate anyone who thinks of going over, it’s unfair. And they’re supposed to do that all three days.

The only other option she’s seeing is actually settling on the survival stuff, but it’s pretty clear she doesn’t need to.

She takes in a deep breath, staring at the ceiling for a moment, and then begins to make her way on the far side away from the careers. Which starts her at axe practice, a top-heavy weapon that she doesn’t see herself willingly using inside of the arena. She’s not strong enough to lug a weapon like that around the entire time, something smaller--a knife--would be much easier.

The expert straightens when they see her approach, and are more than happy to begin her on basics. Immediately, Alyssum can see her mood uplift as she begins to learn new techniques, thinking that this is what she should have been doing the entire time. She spends a whole hour just testing out different sizes, and swinging them to get a feel for it.

By the time lunch rolls around, she’s learned how to wield an axe, carry heavier weapons, and only touched her toe to the water when it came to the spears. She knows how to throw spears, it’s the one skill that the victors teach at the boarding school for the younger kids, besides the knives. The smaller the items, the easier it is to work. That’s the rule.

It’s pretty obvious right off the bat that Paslee is stuck with the careers now, so she isn’t surprised when he sits with them and completely ignores her. Not a single glance has been offered her way this entire day. If he’s trying to play up an act, he’s doing a good job of it. She’s just hoping that he isn’t trying to shut her out already. She thought that he’d at least give her a chance to join the career pack.

Either way, it doesn’t matter. Alyssum gathers up a small plate of food that looks good before taking a seat at an empty table. She watches as the other tributes come into the adjacent lunch room, peeling apart her bread rolls and wondering if any of them are actually brave enough to sit with her. Not because she’s intimidating, or the sister of a victor, but because tributes don’t normally intermix--unless you’re a career.

She almost thinks that’s the case, until Katniss and her tribute counterpart are sitting at the end of her table. She shares a smile with the boy, dipping her spoon into the stew. Alliances are so delicate during the first few beginning days of the week in the Capitol, so it’s hard for her to force herself to speak to them.

“Your parade costumes were amazing,” she says, watching as Katniss looks over suddenly, eyes going over Alyssum. There’s no doubt that she’s sizing Alyssum up in some way, maybe figuring out her lifespan in the games will be. She wouldn’t be the first, and she’s not going to be the last, “I would’ve changed my mind last minute.”

The boy chuckles, “Trust me, I did.”

Katniss gives him a look, and then gives a sheepish smile, “Yeah, me too.”

Alyssum sits a bit taller, “I’m Alyssum.”

“Peeta,” the boy extends his hand, Aly moves to take it, shaking it once, “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Katniss.” she holds out her hand too, but it’s not as smooth.

Alyssum’s a lot more gentle, and she ends up turning over Katniss’ hands to take a look at her nails, curious to see what her prep team had done to them. It’s just as she expected, fiery nails, flames of red and orange on a black background.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Peeta.” Alyssum let’s go of Katniss’ hand, moving back to her bowl of soup.

Conversation is light with the two of them, it gets a little awkward at times, but Peeta always manages to find a new topic to start with. No matter what, neither of them ask about you, which she’s a little surprised about. Everyone has been talking about the sister situation, so she’s sure it’s only a matter of time before the tributes are dragged in too.

As soon as lunch is over, Alyssum is the first to say goodbye to Katniss and Peeta, explaining that she wants the weapons that the careers were standing by before lunch. They understand, and she manages to take over the sword station, since the careers were dragging their feet.

She finds out early on that she’s not too shabby with a sword. She just needs a lot of practice, which she has more than enough time to do. The expert is polite, and doesn’t hide the fact that they’re surprised over her missing knowledge. Yes, she’s been excelling at survival skills, there’s no doubt that word has traveled, but it doesn’t mean she’ll be good at combat.

Either way, it’s clear that the careers grow impatient over her learning, and don’t give her anymore space. They move back in as soon as they’re ready to, making her a lot more stiff when it comes to swinging the sword. They’re so close, and she can hear their conversation, which is making her even more uncomfortable. Especially since they’re making bets on who’s going to run to the cornucopia, and making hypothetical kills with said tributes.

It all goes downhill once her name is mentioned.

Alyssum stops, sweat running down her temples as she looks over to the group. The girl from Two, the fifteen year-old who volunteered, is looking right at her with a dangerous smirk. The boy with her is also giving the same look.

Paslee glances over his shoulder. Alyssum slams the sword tip-down into the ground, knuckles turning pale from how hard she grips the other end.

“She’s only twelve, she’ll be dumb enough to run into the cornucopia,” the Two girl repeats, “And she’ll be the first I kill.”

Alyssum straightens, “Who says you’ll even be able to get your beefy hands on me?” her eyes wander down, face twisting, “Or that you’ll run fast enough.”

Two girl squints her eyes, starting forward. Alyssum keeps her stance, raising her chin a little when the girl comes close. Two girl is taller than she is, and she’s a lot bigger too. Alyssum knows exactly what you’d say to her right now, and it’s that she’s picking a fight she can’t win, one that’ll bite her in the ass later on.

However, Alyssum is part of the Gallows family, and she’ll dig her own grave if it means to defend the name.

“Say it again.”

“You heard me the first time.” Alyssum snaps, hand tightening around the sword, “If you can’t take the heat, don’t play with fire.”

The girl goes to open her mouth, but she’s stopped when Atala appears, clearly here to mediate.

“What’s going on?”

“Friendly banter.” Alyssum smiles, and then looks at Two girl, eyebrows raised, “She was just telling me how she’s going to kill me during the bloodbath. And I was just about to tell her that I’ll kill her in her sleep just like how my older sister killed Allio during her Hunger Games.”

Two girl jerks, Atala steps in-between before there’s an actual conflict. Alyssum dumps her sword in the bin by the station.

“That’s enough, stay away from each other.” Atala warns.

“If you’re going to get territorial again in the future,” Aly starts, beginning to move toward the door, going to leave early, “you might as well piss on the floor, bitch.”

Two jerks again, it takes two experts to hold her back this time. Alyssum doesn’t turn around after she leaves. It isn’t until she steps into the hallway, does she realize how jittery she is. The amount of adrenaline that must have been going through her body… for a second she had herself convinced that she was going to swing the sword. And she would have, if it had gotten any uglier.

She punches the elevator button, shaking her hands while she waits. She needs to tell you and Finnick before Paslee does, just so he doesn’t get the details fucked up. He might try to cut corners to save the relationship between you two and him, since being on good terms with mentors is an important factor.

The elevator ride is short, and so is the walk to the apartment. By the time she gets inside, she feels considerably better, no longer as shaky, and her body has lost the heat factor. When she walks inside, she’s able to see that Finnick and Elysia are standing together, talking.

Their conversation falters when they both see Alyssum.

Elysia immediately checks her watch, confused, “You aren’t supposed to be back for another hour and a half.”

All it takes is Finnick looking over her once to realize that something isn’t right, “What happened?”

“Got in a fight with one of the careers, and Paslee didn’t do anything to prevent it.”

Elysia’s eyes widen, hurrying over, “Did they touch you? How much trouble are you in?”

“Atala stopped it before we got physical, but I said something after she told us to stop so…”

“Tell me the entire story.” Finnick says.

Alyssum does, trying to be as transparent as possible, but it gets difficult at the end, especially when she starts telling Finnick about the conversation the careers were having right before. He slowly starts getting more angry, Elysia is more stressed than anything. It isn’t until the story is over, does Alyssum get the idea that the situation is worse than she thought it was.

“Well,” Finnick sighs, looking up to the ceiling, “You definitely left an impression.”

“Not the one you wanted me to, though.” Aly frowns, “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, placing his hands on the back of his neck, “You have nothing to be sorry for, I’m hoping the Gamemakers at least watched. That might do some good for your score.”

“Where’s (Y/n)?” Alyssum asks.

“Sleeping, but I guess we should wake her up.” Finnick bites the inside of his cheek.

“I’ll stay out here in case Paslee shows up.” Elysia says, “Make sure he doesn’t go far.”

“Thanks,” Finnick nods, and then jerks his head for Alyssum to follow him, “Do you have an alliance, at least?”

“I sat with Katniss and Peeta during lunch, they’re pretty nice. Didn’t talk to them much.”

“That’s good, try not to make any more enemies, okay?”

Alyssum gives him a funny smile, “No promises.”

BERCEUSE IS A SPIN-OFF //MASTERLIST//

add yourself to the TAGLIST

@amixedwitch / @justthatfangirloverthere / @fnnshelbys / @neenieweenie / @vxntae / @itsanantonia / @liaaacantwrite / @terezasworld /

#ilguna #berceuse #berceuse chapter two #halcyon

9 notes · View notes

sonichkkaaascreams · 4 years ago

Text

Mountain with a flower crown

As inspired by a post made by @bleachhaven I made a bleach OC. I am very proud of her. This post is her full bio as I laid the ground work of who she is and next post coming in sometime tomorrow or the day after will be a oneshot of this wonderful lady and her partner. Maybe even turn into something more.

The request and the head cannon it resulted were as followed:

Headcanon for Zaraki Kenpachi with a S/O that’s bigger than him (fluff and smut)

wordcount: 5816 ~

it’s a lpt so i hope you’re patient with me. i like going in depth with my OC’s but also this time i tried to keep her simple and leave some space for the oneshot to come. also i already apologize for any possible errors that i might have missed. my eyes are stinging at the time of posting this.

again special thanks to @bleachhaven and also a thank you to @shadowsnlace who also inspired me with their headcanons and i will be using tid bits from their combined effort (they worked seporatly.) in the oneshot of the same name as in the headline.

Verse: bleach manga – bleach anime property of Tite Kubo

Motto: Chop your own wood, it will warm you twice.

Name: Yasu (assertive child, ヤス) Yamase (Yama = mountain ,山 – se = back / spine / stature / ridge , 背 )

Reason or meaning of the name: she was a very large child since birth – and her last name was given because of her large stature that resembled a mountain in comparison to her peers and the fact that she carried the livelihood of an entire village on her back.

Nickname: 1. Ushi-oni (Ox/cow demon - 牛鬼)

2. Yama-0nna (mountain woman/ mountain lady)

Reason for nickname: 1. This nickname bears the weight of an insult and is what she is called by those who have crossed her path and met her as an enemy. They call her that to convey how beastly large and powerful she is and by the extent how unbothered by their attacks she was.

2. This endearing nickname is given to her by the new children of her village. They call her that because she is very large, like a mountain, and also because she has the word mountain in her last name.

Birth date: Oct 1st

Her birth: she was born on the first day of autumn, around 2 A.M (the hour is known as the ox hour) it was a quiet and peaceful night with the owls hooting as the only noise outside.

Place of birth: a small secluded beachside village named “Momo Niwa” (peach, garden/field - 桃,庭) located in district 35 of east Rukongai

Species: soul

Occupation: formerly the hunter, farmer gardener, shepherd, fisherwoman, and the primary breadwinner of her village

Later on: Shinigami (soul reaper)

Age: 556 years old

How old does the OC appear: mid to late twenties (maybe late twenties to early thirties if you account for some significant facial features)

Weight: 363.4 lbs = 164.83 kg

Height: 8’8 = 264.16 cm

Body build: she is 363.4 lbs of pure muscle accumulated by eating a bear (or 3 entier boars down to the bone) a day and shaped with everyday hard labor since she was old enough to have a grip on a tool. She is bulky and strong, able to wrestle with a grown male bear easily, carry multiple three trunks on her back, and if needed pull a tree out of the ground. She is perhaps the single largest soul living in soul society.

The shape of her face: her face is not very feminine, she has a sharp jawline and strong chin. High cheekbones and gentle brows. Her nose while proportionate has been broken twice. The skin of her face while still soft has been wiped with direct sunlight for long periods of time. Her lips are thick and plump with a downward curve that makes her seem constantly annoyed. A small horizontal scar on her right cheek from where she was attacked by an angry wild cat as an inexperienced hunter. A scar on her upper left forehead near her hairline from when she fell off a three as a child (there is a very small bald spot there due to the scar tissue) and a thick but short diagonal scar under the right corner of her lip leaving it slightly misshapen.

Eye color: light gray – almost white if looked at from afar.

Eyesight: exceptional

Skin tone: as a child, she had fine pale skin, but as the years went by and time spent on the field or the beach her skin changed, and now it’s rough, leathery, and tanned – however, some parts of her body that have never been under the direct sunlight are still moonlight pale.

Distinguishing marks: the scars on her face. Her physique. Scaring around her feet and hands due to hard labor and occasional fights.

Predominant features: the sheer size and height of this woman.

Hair color: a dark reddish-brown with a few gray streaks amidst them. The gray parts make her seem older than she is.

Hair type: wavy, wild, and unkempt. She rarely has enough time or patience to properly care for them.

Hairstyle: the majority of her hair is usually either in a high ponytail or a bun to keep out of her face with a simple old blue ribbon that’s almost ragged by this point due to extensive use. The gray streaks are kept in small braids decorated with beads, feathers, and animal teeth or bones. (insisted by her village elders as hair decoration speaks of position in her village)

Voice: surprisingly has a soft and gentle voice that seems unusual for her throat. Make no mistake she is not quiet nor meek. She has loud booming laughter that is guaranteed to shake the house and her voice can easily be heard over others in a loud crowded room. But her speech pattern is gentle, polite, soft-spoken, and calming. She speaks with a reassuring sense of confidence that will make everyone listen and heed her words.

Overall attractiveness: she is not considered conventionally beautiful nor attractive; especially by feminine standards. She is simply too large, too tall, and too muscular to be the image of the traditionally graceful innocent flower petal that women are perceived as. Instead, she is considered rather handsome. In a manly, reliable kind of way that makes a woman to be attracted to her more than men. As most men don’t like courting girls that tower over them both figuratively and literally.

Physical disabilities: due to her height and weight, her knees and ankles are prone to joint pain and are in need of getting an ointment and herbal massage every once in a while. She may be very strong but the same muscles that made her so, also take away from her speed and she usually is more of a slow and steady kind of worker than the speedy type. She also used to have a difficulty in controlling her strength and had very loud and heavy steps and as a hunter that was a disadvantage. She has long since corrected her steps and is now as quiet as a wild cat while hunting and is quite good with her hands now but she is still rather slow.

The usual fashion of dress: as a child, she would wear normal clothing but as she continued to grow at an abnormal rate her clothes began to consist of multiple Yukatas and Kimonos sewn poorly together to make one dress that is big enough for her to wear comfortable and decently.

Favorite outfit: an utilitarian Yukata that is made of multiple dark-colored and green-colored fabrics that she uses for hunting and a winter coat made of only white rabbit skin.

Jewelry or accessories: No earrings, necklaces, or rings only hair decorations made of seashells, feathers, carved bones, and teeth.

Personality: Hardworking, steel true, and blade straight, Yasu is the primary breadwinner of her small village and responsible for the care of many elders, pregnant women, and many children along with many injured and otherwise incapacitated souls. She not only hunts, fishes works on fields, collects herbs, fixe tools, and homes, and guards the village against potential harm, but also she teaches everything she was taught and learned herself to the next generation ensuring the survival of her small village. She is primarily a noncombatant as her imposing sight alone wards off any potential threats and due to her size and strength she rarely needs to exert herself and to this day she has not been physically challenged (not since the first time she wrestled a bear as a child, but then she was mostly unprepared than weaker. Ps. She cried when she accidentally killed it, stopped crying when she realized how tasty the bear is.).

Unless necessary she rather not partake in violence, as a hunter she was thought that a kill must be clear and clean sparing the pray from unneeded misery and pain. If forced, however she is not a pushover, and while still does not partake in needless violence will effectively and immediately remove the assailant from her and her associates' vicinity by picking them up and throwing them away over her head.

She grew up in a village that predominantly had many fragile and weak people and thus not only she gained mastery over her strength but also was raised with the duty of the caretaker. She may have been one of the younger children of her village at the time, but since she was the largest and strongest many of the manual labor was placed on her shoulders and so she grew to have a habit of being everyone’s mother, to care for their well-being, eating habits, if their sleeping well, fixing their clothes if it’s untidy and even bathing them. (She was strong enough to safely carry the pregnant women to the bath, wash them safely and carry them back with no problem, or help those that had injured arms or legs in bathing)

She is, as formerly mentioned, very soft-spoken and quiet and never feels the need to yell or raise her voice as her sight alone demands unwavering attention. She is well respected as the breadwinner of an entire village as is dutiful to be deserving of that respect. She rises early morning before the birds – the elders' joke that she wakes up the sun every morning ) and goes to bed later than everyone on the nights that she doesn’t stand guard all night (again the elders' joke that she either stays up to make sure all the stars are accounted for or that she keeps guard of the moon as well.)

She knows there’s a time and a place for everything, a time to be respectful, a time to be playful, and a time to be forceful. She put her duty as the caretaker above all else.

She hates it when people think she’s older than she is because of her hair and battered face.

She holds on to a very old superstition that drinking boar blood mixed with milk makes children grow to be strong, completely ignoring the parts that the superstition is about “sons” and not daughters and that she is not a “CHILD” anymore.

She may act humbly, but secretly she loves how large she is. The only time she ever hated her height is when she entered Shino Academy and all the doorframes were too short for her and her dorm room was ridiculously small for her built. And for that, she prefers to sleep on the rooftop.

She genuinely enjoys hard labor and will always offer to carry items for others and if she senses that someone is getting tired she will carry them on her shoulder With delight.

While she is a well-spoken person, if she meets someone she is annoyed with or particularly have done something to warrant her contempt towards them, she starts calling them a very specific insult she never normally uses and only reserves for those she dislikes. “Puny/tiny man” for the men and “ladybug” or “little caterpillar” for the woman. (Ex: *smiling politely* be careful little ladybug/puny man, it would be a shame if I accidentally stepped on you. – She has only ever used this insult twice to this day) and on the other hand, she particularly likes someone, she will make them flower crowns and jewelry made of bones and teeth of animals if they are girls (or they like jewelry) and make hand-carved hunting knives and fur coats for the men.

She prefers to bathe in a cold lake as oppose to use warm water or use an Onsen.

When she finally partakes in combat, she is without a doubt both an unmovable object and an unstoppable force. she prefers to detain her opponents with Kido or Hakudo and if forced break their bones with the hilt or the dull side of her sword and avoid having to cut them down. (She says: a blade is for slaying and not for playing.) if due to specific circumstances; she were to aim for her opponent's death, they will die as quickly and painlessly as possible within a day – if the numbers are high – she makes it seem as if her opponents are mere animals that she needs to put out of misery as quickly as possible and not prolong their suffering. (on one specific occasion where she was disarmed, she held her opponent in a tight hug and crushed his entire spine and rib cage, killing him. – She was miserable and depressed for days afterward, and proceeded to dig an honorable grave for the man.)

Moral: she is dutiful and puts it above all else. When she mush kills, she will make it as fast and painless as possible. And only when it’s necessary. She rarely becomes physical with anyone. she believes she’s stronger than anyone she knows and doesn’t see the need to assert herself in such away.

Self-control: fairly high. She is a very disciplined individual both physically and mentally.

Motivation: the satisfaction of achievement through hard work. By the sweat of her brow and the strength of her mountain-like back.

Discouragement: realizing her size may prevent her from perfecting an action. Or realizing she may have to resort to violence.

Intelligence level: she may not be the most intelligent, but she is wise for her age and has great life experience. Her intuition and deduction skills have saved her from many sticky situations.

Confidence level: she is not arrogant or boastful but she is without a doubt very confident and assured of her capabilities. Of her strength, skills, and intuition. As well as the leadership skills that she acquired through the years.

Mood the OC is in most often: peaceful and relaxed yet focused on the task at hand.

Sense of humor: she has heard every tall joke and buff girl joke there is and is bored of hearing them but she will use at least 1 a day. Lesbian and butch jokes annoy her. She has heard every crude joke an individual can think of. Personally, associates with dark humor. Will hopelessly laugh at shitty puns.

The greatest joy in life: once in her life she had nothing to do so she sat by the beach and laid on the sand listening to the sound of the waves and allowed the children to braid her hair with flowers and colorful ribbons, and that is the greatest feeling she ever had.

Greatest fear – why: to grow old and die in the same village she was born into without ever leaving it. While she is grateful to the people who raised her she doesn’t want her life to have begun and ended in a secluded village by the beach without ever having seen much beyond the woods and the shore.

What would throw the OC’s life in turmoil: the times where she had to kill, especially if the death was A) unintentional due to her uncontrolled strength as a youth and B) done with inappropriate weaponry that caused a slow death and prolonged suffering.

Most at ease when: surrounded by children or people that are younger than her. When surrounded by loved ones. When hearing the sound of running water that reminds her of the shore she grew up in.

Enraged when: insulted, annoyed for too long regarding petty things, teased for her graying hair or size for too long, if someone decides to attack someone smaller and weaker

Trauma: this goes back to when she was a very young child. At the tender age of seven, when she was all but a doe-eyed child, she would eat as much as 3 times a grown man – by that time she was about as tall as a teen – so it’s understandable that on a specially cold winter the village became short on rations. Instead of telling the child to eat less, the villagers lessened their rations for the children and Yasu. For that reason that winter 5 of the older and weaker villagers passed away. Yasu was not told this until she was a good 200 years old, and when she realized this is the reason why her “Yuudai sofu” (grandfather Yuudai) passed away. she was traumatized to a point of losing her appetite and starving herself for the next two years that she grieved. then she returned, vowed she would repay her family every grain of rice a thousand fold and every drop of milk ten thousand.

Prejudice: a general disdain for those who are physically capable but refuse to “cut their own wood” or “pull their weight”. She came from a village where it was an unspoken rule that the youth – and generally those who are capable – must look after those who cannot do so/ the old. and also a disdain for those who take the hard work of others for granted.

Favorite activity – hobby: when she doesn’t have anything particular to do she likes to sit down under a tree and either carve wood and bones into hunting knives or make flower crowns.

How does the OC feel about herself: she is comfortable in her own skin. Never really thinks about her appearance nor does she compare herself to others. She is content with who she is and the work she does.

One word to describe herself: reliable

One paragraph of how would she describe herself: “I think I’m reliable. I would like to think that I am. It’s my duty as the capable one to look after the others. I do enjoy working, I never seem to be able to sit down idly. Makes me fidgety. (Chuckles.) By the way, you seem tired! Need me to carry you? (Bends down) come now don’t be shy the weather is nice up here!” (Points at her shoulders making a tall joke)

Her best and worst personality trait is based on herself: “Oooooh, I’m not sure. I think my best trait is that, well, I’m reliable. And very sturdy. (Laughs.) my worst trait? I don’t know. I work too hard? Don’t take as many breaks as I should? I feel like I’m bragging.”

Her best and the worst physical trait is based on herself: “Hmmm. I never thought about that. I guess I do like that I’m tall and strong. I can take care of everyone like that. Reach the high shelves for them and pick them up when they're tired. I guess I don’t like my graying streaks? Makes people think I’m older than I actually am. “

How others perceive her: Villiger child said. ”Yama-Onna- san is the best! She picks us up and swings us around and around until we get dizzy and then she brings us fresh peaches every afternoon. She saved Aki-chan from a mean boar once. We love Yama-Onna- san sooo very much.”

Villager woman: “Aah, yes. I do know Yasu- chan. She is wonderful. A dutiful, wonderful, kind person. I remember when I was with child and couldn’t walk. She would always pick me up so gently and take me to bathe and take very good care of me. Not to mention she'd always make special rabbit soup for me to make sure I was well fed. She fixed my room when it was broken too. Such a handy girl she is. If only she were a man, I think I wouldn't mind a husband like her.” (she laughs as a man’s grumble comes from inside her home.)

The opinion of other people in general: “seeing her for the first time she may look frightening and imposing but in truth, she has the gentle heart of a bunny. Give her a chance to show you who she is rather than what she looks like. She may look like an imposing beast; but she’s about as harmless as a sweet little chipmunk. “

Does she hide her (true) opinion on other people: not particularly. Even when speaking the truth she will make sure to phrase it politely and gently.

The person she hates the most: lazy people in general – or that least lazy people who are ungrateful

Best friends: Hinamori Momo, Kotetsu Isane, Ise Nanao

Persons she avoids: Kurotsuchi Mayuri, Soi Feng

Person, she feels awkward with: Hitsugaya Toshiro (so small), Hirako Shinji (that weird smile), Soi Feng (so loud for someone so small)

The person she openly or secretly admires: Zaraki Kenpachi (he is up to my chest, very tall), Ise Nanao, Kuchiki Rukia

How she thinks others perceive her: Ushi-oni, imposing and scary (which makes her a bit sad)

One thing she would change about herself: the gray hair, maybe make herself a little shorter – just a little – enough that her head wouldn’t hit the door frames all the time.

Her main logic of the world: Chop your own wood, it will warm you twice.

You can either dream or work to achieve that dream.

You won't always be motivated, you must learn to be disciplined.

By the sweat of your brow and the strength of your back, and the blood in your veins. Anything can be achieved.

When there’s a will there’s a way.

Depressed or sad when: she does something she deems cruel. doesn’t have anything to do. Her friend is in the middle of something she can’t help them with. When away from Kenpachi for too long. Sometimes she misses her mothers, father figures and her village.

Priorities: duty first. And not just work duty. Her duty to herself. Her duty to her romantic partner/ spouse. Her duty to her friend. Her duty to nature, her duty to her conscious. Her duty to her mothers.

Life philosophy: hard work pays off. Always. Not always in the ways, we want or we think we want. But always pays off in some way.

Soft spot – is it obvious or not: she has a giant soft spot for children and people who are physically very small even by normal standards. (namely, Hinamori Momo. Hitsugaya Toshiro, Kuchiki Rukia) – it couldn’t be any more obvious – she makes them flower crowns every day without fail)

Greatest strength: other than her bulging biceps? Her great leadership skills and hard-working nature.

Vulnerability or weakness: deep down she does feel weird and vulnerable about her size, after all, she is still a girl, and about the time she was 150 or so she was deeply sensitive when a guy would call her Ushi-Oni. Just because she was taller than everyone else. Although now she knows logically she shouldn't feel bad about herself and her appearance there are still times she feels embarrassed when she knows she can’t wear a beautiful Kimono because A) they don’t have it in her size and B) she realizes it wouldn’t be good on her as it would on someone like Ise Nanao or Kuchiki Rukia

Biggest regret: accidentally killing that bear, not realizing her eating habits were putting a strain on the village sooner

Minor regret: not learning feminine skills (sewing, tea etiquette, etc.)

Biggest accomplishment: becoming a Shinigami

Other accomplishments: mastering the sword, archery, trapping, fishing, tracking, and finding her way based on stars – making a full garden of peaches from only 3 peaches she bought – building a small fishing boat (albeit a flimsy one) – raising the number of the village livestock exponentially.

Past failures: she failed many times in almost everything she started. It’s not important how many times she failed in what, what’s important is that she is now more skilled than the average souls and Shinigami.

Embarrassing moments: her first 3 weeks at Shino Academy they didn't have a uniform her size so until they make one her size she was heavily underdressed. (the pants were only to her knees and the upper half was more like a tight short-sleeved vest. She preferred to wear her usual clothes but wasn’t allowed to. The moment Captain Hitsugaya who had come to the Academy on work-related matters saw her state of indecency he threw a fit and demanded appropriate clothing for a lady. – Yasu wanted to die at that moment.)

Darkest secret: she secretly, very deep down, is annoyed that no one else is half as strong as she is. And wishes there was someone she could find that she didn’t have to hold back for.) (*wink wink* foreshadowing *wink wink*)

Skills: life skills: 1. wielding a club

2. archery

3. trapping

4. pathfinding using stars

5. fishing

6. trapping and hunting and skinning animals

7. wood carving, bone carving, and tool building in general

8. cooking

9. farming, gardening

Incompetence: 1. Sewing

2. tea brewing

3. anything to do with speed or agility

4. patience in anything other than hunting

5. strategizing in anything other than hunting

Strength – talent – powers: Shinigami based: 1. professional Zanjutsu

2. advanced levels of Kido

3. unrivaled Hakudo

4. passable Hoho

Habits: 1. she stubbornly sticks to the superstition of drinking mill mixed with boar blood is good for health and strength. (even though the superstition says it’s good for little boys to grow strong and healthy and she is neither a boy nor a child.)

2. She prefers to take cold bathes even in midwinter.

3. Sleeping outside – unless provided with a big enough room.

4. Braiding her hair and making flower crowns when she is bored or nervous.

The organization involved: Gotei 13, Squad 10. (as the third seat officer)

Income: standard seated officer Shinigami income + overtime

Job satisfaction: doing all the paperwork as fast as possible (even those that aren’t hers… LOOKING AT YOU MATSUMOTO RANGIKU)

Health: as is expected of someone her size she is very healthy seldom gets sick. Her knees and ankles need a herbal and ointment massage now and then due to the pressure of caring for her weight.

Childhood life: on a particularly warm summer evening a woman by the name of “Hatsume” comes across this small village begging for a small room so she can have her child in peace. The villagers of course all this and the woman spends the next two months peacefully waiting for her child. The villagers assumed she must have multiple sons as her belly was greatly swollen but by the time the child was born, it was revealed that “Hatsume” was right and she only had one child. One little girl.

Actually no, she had one big girl. A girl so big, that she broke her mother’s hips as she was coming out resulting in the death of her mother. Originally the midwife –“ Obba-chan Harumi” – deemed it a bad omen and wanted to drown the child but was convinced otherwise by the rest of the women. Thus the newborn was given to “Riko” another woman who had recently lost her weak child due to heatwave. She named the child “Yasu “ and accepted her as her own child and fed her until she no longer could.

Apparently “Yasu” was a very hungry child and drank her mother dry within a few months, and so she was given to another woman named “Natsuko” who also raised her as her own alongside her son named “Tadashi”. And so, until Yasu-chan was old enough to eat solid food she was cared for by the collective effort of 10 women. (Riko-san, Natsuko-san, Haruko-san, Kaede-san, Usagiko-san, Amaya- san, Yuria-san, Ikuko-san, Minako-san, Sakue-san) and as a child, she grew to eat 3 times a grown man and as an adult, she eats 9 times the average man as a moderate ratio (she can eat more)

Best memories: 1. sitting by the ocean with her 10 mothers and their other children making flower crowns and listening to the sound of waves.

2. Learning how to carve knives and sitting next to her “Yuudai-gi” and making hunting knives.

Worst memories: 1. sitting at the grave of “Yuudai-gi” now knowing why he died

2. Barring her mother “Kaede-san” after she fell ill

Alignment: bounces between lawful chaotic and chaotic lawful – sometimes lawful neutral

Short-term goal: accomplish daily duties to the best of her abilities.

Long term goal: live her life to the fullest and learn to relax and have fun without worrying

The most defining moment in her life: deciding she’s prepared the kids of her village enough and leaving them to become a Shinigami.

Type of childhood: certainly eventful, but all in all nurturing

First memory: her first and oldest childhood memory is being surrounded by many women cooing at her (her motherers) and one in particular saying something about giving her boar blood with milk.

Most important childhood memory: her first successful hunt, an old limping stag.

Childhood hero: Yuudai-gi

Education: thought by the rest of the villagers. Mostly focused on practical information – learned how to write and read when she had nothing better to do by her mothers.

Family: mothers: Riko-san, Natsuko-san, Haruko-san, Kaede-san, Usagiko-san, Amaya- san, Yuria-san, Ikuko-san, Minako-san, Sakue-san

Father figure: Yuudai-gi, Kaoru-gi, Manzo-san, Ikemoto-san, Gihei-gi, Sotaro-san

Siblings: Tadashi-kun, Ekiken-kun, Toyozo-kun, kenji-kun, Hachigoro-kun, shigeru-kun, Akeno-chan, Euki-chan ,Mizuki-chan, Mami-chan, Romi-chan, Shizue-chan, Chieko-chan, Asaji-chan, Ochiyo- chan

+the rest of the village.

Relationship with parents: she was well-loved by all of her mothers.

Relationship with siblings: there were arguments as children and there were teasings as children but the older they got the better their relationship became and with her size she became everyone's protector and the helping hand of her mothers.

Spouse – lover – the person of interest: Zaraki Kenpachi, the second Kenpachi and the 11th captain of squad 11 of Gotei 13.

Children: none

Relationship with children: very well.

Other important family members: (her father may or may not have been a member of a branch family sworn to the Kuchiki clan but Hatsume never confirmed anything and died before revealing anything about the father of the child.) later on Yasu says she has no interest of ever finding her father since she already has 6 father figures and an entire village as family.

Favorites

-color: light ocean blue

-music: the sound of waves – the sound of branches moving in the wind – the sound of owls Hooting at night.

-food: Bear, boar, shrimps

-literature: she doesn't read much. The Academy textbooks are the closest she got to literature. That being said the book of Seireite Laws is her somewhat favorite.

-form of entertainment: making flower crowns, carving knives, going to the woods to watch the wildlife as they are, watch Kenpachi fight, watch captain Hitsugaya yell at Rangiku.

-expression: 1. You won't always be motivated, you must learn to be disciplined.

2. Chop your own wood, it will warm you twice.

-most prized possession: 1. her ragged old ribbon she uses to tie her hair up.

2. Her hair decorations.

3. The old hunting knife made of bear bone that once belonged to her Yuudai-gi

-weapon: old hunting knife that belonged to Yuudai-gi,

Her Zanpakuto (it’s her first and only appropriate and professionally made weapon)

-pastime: watching Kenpachi fight as she makes flower crowns or carves knives.

Poetry describing – quote describing: “she may not have been the innocent cherry blossom, nor the alluring lotus. She may not have been the moon goddess nor the lady sun. she may not have been the enchanting vixen nor the oblivious doe. She may not have been gentle river nor the cherishing wind. She may not have been a princess nor a noble jewel.

Instead, she was unconventionally alluring. She was the reliable oak and the sturdy pine tree. She is the north star guiding travelers home and the early morning twilight, the very beginning of a gentle, warm touch waking you up. She is the dangerously alluring owl and the coyote that mates for life. She is the iron shield you carry to war and the rock you lean on. She’s the hard-working peasant girl in the rice field and The silver O-Choko cup, the only thing the beggar refuses to sell.”

Playlist:

I have a dream – Abba

“I have a dream, a song to sing

To help me cope with anything

If you see the wonder of a fairy tale

You can take the future even if you fail

I believe in angels

Something good in everything I see

I believe in angels”

My same – Adele (Yasu and Kenpachi)

“I don't know who I'd be if I didn't know you

You're so provocative

I'm so conservative

You're so adventurous

I'm so very cautious

Combined you think we wouldn't and we do”

Into you – Ariana Grande

“So, baby, come light me up, and maybe I'll let you on it

A little bit dangerous, but, baby, that's how I want it

A little less conversation and a little more "touch my body"

'Cause I'm so into you, into you, into you

Got everyone watchin' us, so, baby, let's keep it secret

A little bit scandalous, but, baby, don't let them see it

A little less conversation and a little more "touch my body"

'Cause I'm so into you, into you, into you, oh yeah”

Are you ready – the Disturbed

“That's enough already now

You don't want to take it

All your reservations have been taken away

They've been taken away

So you think you're ready now

For the revolution

Yeah, they can't control you

Once you've broken away

You've got to get them out of your mind

When they stand before you they will find

A force they aren't ready for

***

Are you ready?

They aren't ready for you to be strong

Are you ready?

They aren't ready for you to prove them wrong

Are you ready?

They aren't ready for you to be turned into someone

Who cannot be preyed upon”

The greatest thing – Cher Lloyd, lady Gaga (Yasu and Kenpachi)

”I hope, that you can see,

you are the greatest thing to me.

And when, you' feeling like you're not enough.

I'll give you wings, i'll lift you up.

I hope, that you can see,

you are the greatest, greatest thing to me.”

Out of control – lady gaga (Yasu and Kenpachi)

“I need a love that's crazy don't you see?

***

“Give it up, Put it up, Not enough, Not enough, Not enough, I need it Out of control.

Give it up just let your body Out of control”

Rival – Ruelle

“The tide is high

It's sink or swim

My only rival is within

Giants calling round the bend

My only rival is within

I won't let my demons win

My only rival is within

I will fight through thick and thin

My only rival is within”

The one thing – Shakira (Yasu and Kenpachi)

“You are the one thing that I got right

It's a fickle world, yeah, it's a fickle world

You turn the darkness into sun light

I'm a lucky girl, yeah, I'm a lucky girl

And if I mess up everything someday

I would hide my head in shame

Cause you are the one thing that I got right”

aesthetic: (disclaimer: non of the photoes and art works used in the grid bellow are mine i acuired them from pinterest. i do not take credit for any of these pieces.)

24 notes · View notes

nelllraiser · 4 years ago

Text

step the fuck up, kyle | kyle & nell

TIMING: shortly after kyle attacked bex. LOCATION: the forest in the outskirts. PARTIES: @darkh0wl and @nelllraiser. SUMMARY: nell takes matters into her own hands when it comes to convincing kyle to let her help in his quest for control.

Kyle had explicitly said he didn’t want Nell’s help. But apparently that meant nothing to the witch as Nell followed the tracking spell she’d set into play, intent on finding the werewolf so that she might begin her entirely genius plan of helping him learn how to better control when and where he shifted. Even if it was true that he’d only hurt people twice in his lifetime, she couldn’t help but feel that disaster was simply waiting to strike with an untrained werewolf...and she’d meant it when she’d said she didn’t want to kill him. At first news of Bex’s attack, she’d been ready to greedily plunge the silver of her knife clean through Kyle’s heart. Then he’d cowered in Morgan’s basement and talked about being at fault as well as hurting his mother. She hadn’t wanted the story to sway her sympathies, had tried her best to keep her compassion from winning out in lieu of her anger, but it had become more impossible as time passed. What had happened to giving supernaturals second chances? Was she really so desperate for his blood because he’d accidentally attacked her student and friend? A part of her that was built from the memory of seeing too many die and get hurt had told her killing him was the smartest option, and perhaps that was true. Was she willing to live with the guilt down the line if Kyle continued to become a problem, adding more people to his list of injuries?

Nell’s spell came to an end, signaling that her quarry was hidden somewhere within the swath of trees and forest a mere thirty feet in front of her, and she shook her head in an attempt to clear it. She’d already made her decision to be here, and do her best to give Kyle his second chance. Casting another spell, she uttered the latin words that would grant her complete silence of her movements. It was necessary to catch Kyle by surprise for her plan to work. Then she set to climbing the nearest tree, using practiced movements and muscles to hoist herself up into the branches towering above the forest floor. There. She could see the black hair of his head bobbing below her from this better vantage point, and with nothing to lose she launched herself towards her target, using another bit of magic to ensure she didn’t go splat when she came to a stop not five feet in front of him, arms high as if she’d just landed one of her gymnastics stunts. “What the fuck is up, Kyle?”

A jog through the woods always set Kyle at ease. Even if he was running on two legs instead of four, the forest felt like he was returning home. He’d made a habit of these jogs enough times that he felt like he knew these woods; their ins and outs and what made them breathe. He popped earbuds in, turning on a heavy playlist to get his blood pumping, and he took off.

He hadn’t been running more than a few minutes when someone was falling from above and yelling at him. Kyle couldn’t understand what was being said over the music that blared in his ears. His heart was already beating fast, but now it threatened to tear right out of his chest. He could feel the damp hair at the back of his neck standing on end. He fell back in surprise, landing on his butt. His mind was already panicking, running through a thousand scenarios all at once. It took a lengthy moment before it fully clicked with Kyle who he was looking at.

“Nell,” he growled, through gritted teeth. Breathe, Kyle. Just breathe. But he couldn’t catch his breath. Why would she surprise him like this? She knew— It dawned on him that this was what Nell had been planning to teach him restraint and control. His chest heaving, Kyle closed his eyes and put his head in his hands. He could feel it already. Breathe. But it was happening and he couldn’t stop the wolf once it was in motion. “Nell!” This time he was yelling. Kyle’s hands dropped to the ground and he gripped handfuls of dirt and the detritus of the forest floor. He just had to breathe.

Nell couldn’t help but take Kyle’s instantaneous reaction as something that was almost validating. Maybe he hadn’t mauled that many people over the years, and maybe he’d just gotten lucky. She supposed people didn’t usually fall out of trees in front of one another, but that wasn’t to say that more surprising things could happen in the day to day life of a werewolf. To be honest— she hadn’t expected his reaction to be so visceral, thinking that her surprise would simply get his heart-rate pumping healthily, and they could go from there. Instead it seemed as if he’d already begun his shift, and she knew that once that had been set into motion...there was generally no going back.

“Well...I guess we just have to wait for you to finish now,” Nell commented with a somewhat miffed expression, already amending any future plans she had for helping Kyle with his control. Note to self: Must begin with something that causes less stress than falling out of a tree in front of him. Depositing another spell onto her person, she prepared herself to climb the tree once more, this time aided by the advanced speed the magic would grant her. “I’ll just wait up here, alright?” Then she was sprinting back towards the tree she’d come from at breakneck speed, readying herself to climb it once more. At least then she wouldn’t have to hop around dodging him while he worked this out of his system.

Kyle was pissed to say the least. Nell had gone against his wishes and forced him into a shift before he was good and ready. His last coherent thought was of her words. Irresponsible, she’d called him. Hypocrite. He let the anger wash over him, almost relishing in the feeling and the justification that came with it. “Nell,” he yelled again, but this time her name turned into a roar in his throat. He sat there for a few moments, panting, before his nose reminded him that there was prey to be caught. Shoving himself to his feet, Kyle shook out his coat, black and wavy like his hair. He licked his lips, salivating at how close his prey still was. Kyle stalked forward; head low, eyes locked on Nell. Her back was turned as she started her ascent up the tree and his predator instinct told him she was vulnerable. Carefully, quietly, he came closer. Kyle began to circle her, coming toward her side for a better angle on her throat. He tensed, ready to strike. After a few moments, he leapt at her with his teeth bared.

“Sorry- I don’t really speak wolf,” Nell commented as he roared, perhaps too unperturbed while being faced with a beast that was intent on ripping her throat out. But after five years of traveling the world to deal with supernatural threats, bringing in fighters for the Ring, and continuing in her line of supernatural bounty hunting— she was decently desensitized to danger when it was only her life on the line. With no other collateral damage present it was easy to slip into the ways her body knew well, as if it were another day at the office. “Ah, ah!” she tutted as Kyle leapt, turning from her spot on the tree to extend a hand in his direction as she balanced herself against the trunk, magic sprouting forwards from her fingers to create an invisible shield, one that most creatures tended to slide off of. “No! Down! Bad!” Then she began climbing higher, doing her best to get out of werewolf jumping range. “So...how long do these usually last for you?” she asked the wolf, knowing Kyle had no way of actually responding, or perhaps even properly understanding.

Kyle bonked off the shield, dropping back onto the ground sideways with a thump. He snarled and staggered back to his feet. Circling around the trunk again, he repositioned himself. Every time Nell shifted, he shifted with her, always a step behind. Trying a new tactic, Kyle stood on two legs, with his front legs braced against the tree. This time, he leapt straight up. His claws dragged against the bark looking for purchase. He only managed to slow his descent before he was back on the ground. With a frustrated huff, Kyle tried again, using his claws to drag himself upward. He got within a few feet of Nell’s feet as he snapped at the air.

Nell couldn’t help but think that Kyle looked a lot like Taki braced against his favorite scratching post while the werewolf stretched himself along the tree. Unfortunately, the differences were that Taki wasn’t a werewolf, and he also didn’t have any desire to kill Nell. Maybe this would actually be a little cathartic for Kyle in the end. He could get his anger at her out in wolf form, and then they could actually talk and work together on a plan for monitoring his control. An “oop” of surprise slipped between Nell’s lips as Kyle made attempts to reach her once more, his latest method getting him closer than any other one had. But she simply continued to climb all the higher as his jaws snapped somewhere below her, letting the speed of her magic grant her another few meters up the tree. “Maybe I should have figured out how you usually come out of shifts before doing this…” she mulled thoughtfully, wondering how long she might be stuck climbing a tree. Maybe if she...fed him? If she gave him something to sate his bloodthirst, he might change back? Leaning against a branch of the tree, she summoned a large steak from the inside of her fridge at home, the meat cut magically blipping into her hand as she waved it for a moment. “You want this?” she asked before letting it fall towards Kyle’s open maw.

The steak smacked Kyle in the face as it fell, and he dropped from the tree with it. He nosed at the meat, not trusting it at first. He glanced back up at Nell again. She would be a much more filling meal, but the meat was right there. He snapped the steak up in his maw and darted away to feast on his prize where Nell couldn’t take it back from him. Once he was far enough away that he felt safe, he lay down on his stomach with his hind legs splayed out behind him. Kyle gnawed at the steak with the side of his mouth, thoroughly enjoying himself. His tail wagged slowly, Nell all but forgotten in the tree.

He splooted. Kyle had taken the steak and sat himself in a sploot. Nell could barely contain her amusement as she watched Kyle drop into a pose that was nearly infamous for being one of the absolute best canine poses of all time. If she hadn’t been vaguely worried about the concept of exposing Kyle as a werewolf to anyone that might come across her phone, she would have taken a picture then and there- if only to show Kyle once he was back in the mind of his normal self. And maybe Morgan. And Mina and Bex too. And definitely Taki. Either way, she was pleased that he’d taken the food, and let herself drop a bit closer to the ground so that she could get a better view of him. “So are you...feeling better now?” Food calming him down was something to work with, right? Maybe there was something in that to help with releasing himself from his shifts faster. “Did you want more?” Would that help him return faster? Nell decided that Kyle was much more likable in his werewolf form when he couldn’t talk.

Nell addressing questions to Kyle only earned her a half-hearted growl. He turned farther away from her, but not far enough that he couldn’t keep an eye on her. Turning his back was a sign of trust and he didn’t trust Nell. As he ate, his heart rate began to come down. A full belly always calmed him; it made him a touch sleepy. That, and the exertion of trying to catch Nell, and Kyle was halfway to being himself again, or at least his human self. The concept of self, when he could conceptualize it, was complicated. He was a wolf for sure and felt connected with the wolf. But he had all these human emotions that he didn’t know what to do with. The wolf was easy; there were no emotions to deal with, just instinct alone. The same instinct that had nearly killed Bex, that had wanted to kill Nell just a few moments ago. All that ebbed away slowly now as he settled considerably.

Before he was fully aware what had happened, Kyle was coming to his senses and shifting back. The steak gone, he was half naked, laying on the forest floor, his clothes in tatters. “What the f—,” he mumbled before spinning around and looking up in the tree. “Nell.”

“Hey Kyle,” Nell waved a lazy hand in greeting from her perch on the tree, legs swinging in the air as she looked down at him. She carefully averted her eyes from going anywhere below his waistline, figuring the young man was already upset enough by the recent turn of events. “You don’t happen to have any clothes nearby, do you? If not I can just get you another blanket or something.” That’d be easy enough to summon from home- just like she’d summoned the steak. “So did you wanna come up here, or should I go down there?” she asked as if she were requesting his preference on what he wanted for dinner. Part of her wanted to gloat to him that she’d been right- if she’d been anyone else less equipped to deal with werewolves she’d most likely be dead meat by now. But even she knew that you caught more flies with honey, and though she wasn’t exactly the sweetest bait in the world, she could at least be sure she wasn’t straight vinegar.

Kyle wanted to kill her. Not the wolf brain, but the coherent, thinking human brain. He wanted to make her eat her words. Instead, he took a deep breath and sighed. “I, uh,” he stammered, covering himself as best he could. He was dazed from changing and then coming to so abruptly. It left him foggy. He cleared his throat. “I have a change of clothes in my car. Can you...poof them here or whatever?” Nell was probably feeling pretty justified right now. She was probably gloating to herself in her head. That thought made Kyle take another deep breath. His body ached from the pain of the shift and he couldn’t do that again now. Steak or no steak, he didn’t have the energy to push it like that again right now. Nell didn’t need to be proven right again; once was enough.

“Where’s the car?” Nell asked, needing a bit more specific of an area to work if she was going to summon the clothes. “Then I can ‘poof’ then,” she said while raising her hands to form little quotation marks with her fingers. “And what kinda clothes are they?” The more details the better when she was summoning from a place she wasn’t exactly sure of the location of. Nell paused as she waited for his answer, her feet still swaying in the air as she sat comfortably on her branch. “You never said if you wanted to come up here or the other way around.” Her change in demeanor from their last two encounters might have been...puzzling to say the least, but this was simply a part of reminding herself that Kyle wouldn’t want to work with someone he hated. “So did you ever message those people you said you were going to message?” That was an easy enough transition into what she really wanted to talk about.

“It’s just outside the woods, parked on the side of the road. It’s a silver Jeep Cherokee.” Kyle crossed his legs, trying to give himself any semblance of respect. “The clothes are in my back seat. It’s a gray hoodie and black sweats.” He could feel his cheeks burn with embarrassment. What was Nell’s angle here? She’d pushed him to his limit the last time they’d spoken. Before that, she nearly killed him. Today, she’d pushed him well past his limit. Did she feel bad for him? That made the anger he held worse. “I don’t really care if you come down here, can I just have my clothes?” He needed to buy a new pair of shoes. That was two that he’d lost already. This shit was stupid expensive. Maybe Nell was right… Kyle grit his teeth. He didn’t want her to be right. If he’d learned anything from his altercations this past week, he’d learned that it was better if he stayed away from anyone he cared about. It was better if he kept everyone he knew at an arm’s length or longer. “No, I didn’t fucking message them,” he spat. He didn’t even mean for it to come off aggressive, but Nell was just messing with his head. She had to be. This was one of her control lessons, and Kyle wouldn’t let her win. Not like this.

“Alright, hold on,” Nell said as she began to climb higher up the tree once again. She ascended until she could see above a good portion of the forest, looking in the direction Kyle had talked of and she could see a silver car like the one he’d described. After a brief moment of concentration and sparked magic, the clothes were in her hold. This time— instead of descending normally she uttered another piece of magic that would grant her the ability to fall slowly from the great height. She dropped no faster than a feather to the ground, landing gracefully as she held the clothes out to Kyle, signaling that he should come and grab them. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna look or whatever,” she said while pointedly turning her head away from him. Dealing with Kyle was obviously going to be tricky based on the way he spat about not messaging other werewolves. She needed to boil him slowly- like a frog. Unfortunately...patience and doing things slowly wasn’t Nell’s strong suit. “Kyle…” she began to speak as collectively as she was able to, “I don’t understand how you plan to not become dangerous if you don’t talk to other wolves.” Perhaps somewhat wisely, she chose not to tell him that she’d messaged Ariana for him.

Kyle’s blush had crept all the way up to his ears. He was a deep pink by now, as he awkwardly got up, still covering himself, and took the clothes from Nell. He turned his back to her. Quickly and rather clumsily, he pulled them on, only turning around when he was fully dressed. “Thanks,” he mumbled, the residual anger audible in his voice. He tried to take a deep breath, but it came out shaky. He didn’t want to lose it again on Nell. She seemed like she was genuinely trying to help him now. Not that he wanted, or needed, her help. But she seemed to be coming from a good place. That was enough reason to try to chill out for a second. Still, when she spoke, sounding like she was trying to talk down a wild animal or a particularly cranky toddler, he grit his teeth. Kyle had to take a second breath, in through his nose and out through his mouth, and this time it was steadier. “I want to talk to other wolves. On my own terms. Things have been-- It’s complicated. I’ve been focusing on Bex, like I think you should. I want to make sure she’s okay after I-- after what happened.” He couldn’t let himself think about his claws in her chest, or the way she screamed. He hadn’t been able to close his eyes without seeing it--seeing her on the ground beneath him as the streetlights flickered. Kyle’s eyes squeezed shut and he took one more breath, trying to forget for only a moment.

Nell shrugged off his thanks, knowing she probably didn’t really deserve it after being the reason he needed new clothes in the first place. But now that he was decent, she strode closer to him so that they could have an actual face to face conversation. It wasn’t until she was stood directly in front of him that she remembered he was a decent chunk taller than her. Suddenly she wished that she’d insisted on him coming up to the tree. At least they would have been roughly the same height sitting in it. On second thought maybe she should go back to the tree. Then she’d really be taller than him. It took a long moment for her to remind herself that there were more important things at stake here than her feeling tall, and finally she remembered to address why she’d come here in the first place.

“I’m not trying to be a dick, Kyle,” Nell began, doing her best to keep her frustration from getting the better of her. It was easier now that the Bex incident was a little more removed. “Focus on yourself and then Bex. You can’t do shit for Bex if you’re still worried about whether or not you’re gonna rip her to pieces. And thankfully I can focus on more than one thing at once,” she insisted, having no intention of letting this go. “I can take care of Bex. And so can Morgan and Mina. And then so can you once you figure out yourself.” But she recognized that look in Kyle’s eyes, had seen it in the mirror on more than one occasion while she wondered whether or not she was more of a risk factor than not. “Listen- if you don’t wanna be a liability, and don’t wanna feel the way thinking that makes you...feel...then you have to do something to make sure you’re less of one. And running off into the forest and refusing help isn’t gonna be the thing that does that.”

Kyle had forgotten that Nell was so short. She seemed far less intimidating when he towered over her like this. He was glad she’d come down out of the tree. Their height difference had Kyle’s lips pulling up halfway to a satisfied smirk, but the conversation they were having was serious enough that he pursed his lips instead. “I don’t want you to focus on me. It’s--I don’t like it. I don’t deserve anything from you.” He looked away, fingers trailing through his hair absentmindedly. “I don’t want to be a liability. I’m just--it’s hard. It’s complicated. I’ve never had a super tight hold on my shifting, but it feels like I’m slipping more and more. And I don’t want to, but…” But what if he lost himself? Or was the wolf who he really was? How do you separate what you are from what controls you? Kyle sucked in a sharp breath and looked back up at Nell. “Have you ever done this? With another wolf, I mean. Have you ever taught someone else control?” If she said yes, he had follow up questions. If she said no… Kyle was already resisting the urge to run off into the forest, even if Nell said it wouldn’t help him. It felt like it would do something.

Nell’s eyes narrowed briefly as she took in his smirk, resisting the urge to try and smack it off his smug little face. She was trying to help now. Not get him to shift back. Obviously that hadn’t worked out the first time. “I know you don’t want me to focus on you, but someone has to.” Kyle wasn’t a responsibility she’d wanted after seeing the way he’d hurt Bex, but she’d thrust it onto herself nonetheless. “If it’s slipping, then we’ll find a way to make it un-slip. You’re gonna stand a better chance if you just let people try and help you.” She was speaking as calmly as she could. It was easier to be rational when she hadn’t just finished healing the wounds that might have killed Bex.

“Not...technically a wolf, no. I was preparing to at one point, though.” He didn’t need to know that the wolves she’d been worried about controlling had been herself and Adam. That had been almost six months past now, but Nell still remembered how they’d worried about hurting the people they didn’t want to hurt. She still worried about that, though not in the terms of a wolf. Their bites had turned out to be null and void with loup garou being unable to turn others into werewolves. “And I’ve tried to help other supernatural people learn control. I know it’s not exactly the same, but it’s something— and you need something, Kyle.”

Kyle’s skin crawled with anxious energy. The way he saw it, Nell was mothering him and that felt bad. He didn’t like that at all. So she’d never done this before and Kyle was her wonderful little guinea pig. Great. Nothing could go wrong there. He pulled at the strings of his hoodie and worked his jaw, trying not to look at Nell. “I think I’d do better on my own,” he started. “But clearly you’re not going anywhere, so I guess it’s fine.” He sighed deeply. “We gotta set up some ground rules, though.” If he was gonna be stuck with Nell, he might as well have some agency in the agreement.

“First off, you cannot jump out of trees at me. Or jump out from behind a bush. Or--just don’t jumpscare me, okay? That wasn’t enjoyable for either of us and you’re gonna get someone hurt doing that.” He couldn’t shake the what-ifs that circled his mind like hungry vultures, preying on his fears. What if Nell hadn’t been as fast as she was? What if he’d been better at climbing the tree? What if he’d bitten her or attacked her like he’d attacked-- “Secondly. No more bringing up shit that I’ve done and holding it over me. Like my mom. I know what I did. If I want to talk about it, it’s my decision. Not yours. Same with talking to other wolves. I don’t need you to talk to them on my behalf or anything. I’m--I’m working on it.” Finally, he looked back over at her, jaw locked now. The urge to kill her still gnawed at him, but he was pushing it down. It helped that she was short. He could take her on, but he didn’t have to. Not now.

Nell had already opened her mouth with a retort hot on her lips to argue against why he wouldn't do better on his own. But the words were stopped in their tracks when he finally seemed to grant her a little bit of wiggle room when it came to helping. “You know it’s really good that you recognized how stubborn I am now. Otherwise this could have gone on much longer than it needed to.” She was certain she would have won anyway, but it was nice that they could skip over the rest of the back and forth. The witch barely resisted rolling her eyes at the mention of ground rules, trying to remind herself that she guessed it was far for Kyle to have some autonomy in the situation. “Sure- fine, alright.” The battle of getting him to accept her help had been won, so she could let him have this moment.

“To be fair I didn’t think you were gonna get that close to shifting by me just jumping out of the tree,” Nell rebutted. “I wasn’t trying to make you shift off the bat. So yeah- now I know you’re a little too jumpy for that method to work.” Apparently she couldn’t just roll over for the rules he was setting down, talking out her reasons as to why she would accept them. “I don’t want you to worry about hurting me, though.” It probably came off as cocky, but Nell was confident in her abilities to dodge a hungry werewolf and tell the tale. After all, she’d done it on multiple occasions before. “I don’t want that to get in the way of us working on your control, I mean.” His second rule left her feeling a granule of guilt, realizing that her online attempts to talk about his mother hadn’t come off the way she’d intended. “I wasn’t...trying to hold it over you. I was just...trying to help.” Still, her natural inclination to go against anyone instructing her on what to do was beginning to kick in, making her want to balk against the authoritative tone he was using. “For the other werewolves thing...it might be a little too late for that,” she mumbled, as if doing so might prevent him from hearing.

Nell really made it so much harder for Kyle to push down the urge to kill her when she went against every single thing he said. “Can’t you just--,” he snapped. He had to take a deep breath, focusing on the tree tops and trying to follow single branches all the way back to the tree. Anything to keep himself from either losing it again, or yelling at Nell. After a moment’s pause, he spoke again. “Can you please not argue every step of the way?” he asked, voice much more steady this time. “I’m sincerely trying with you right now, and you’re making that especially hard. There are some things I’m just not ready to talk about with you. Not right now. And I hope you can respect that instead of justifying why you did it.” Everything Nell said was a justification of why she had done the things he was asking her not to do. Kyle knew this was probably the closest thing he was going to get to an apology, but that didn’t help the frustration he felt. Nell was easily one of the most aggravating people he’d met in White Crest. Whether or not she did that on purpose, he wasn’t sure. He opened his mouth to keep going, but Nell dropped on him that she had apparently already contacted another werewolf for him. Aggravating. Kyle’s mouth snapped shut and he closed his eyes. He just had to breathe, Nell meant well. She was coming from a good place. She didn’t mean to piss him off. “Who did you contact?” he asked tersely, voice low. He just had to breathe.

“I’m not-” the words had left Nell before she could stop them, her gut reaction wanting to make her argue back when it came to whether she was, in fact, arguing or not. Thankfully she finally managed to catch herself, and bit off the reply before it could fully fly. She didn’t agree with his words, but she didn’t refute them either, giving him a look as if to say ‘See? I’m not arguing.’ But the word justifying didn’t sit quite right with her. Not when it left such a hypocritical taste in her mouth. So that was the end of her silence. “I’m not trying to justify things which...sounds like a justification but- I just...wanted to explain. Not saying that they were...right or anything.” She was just lacking when it came to making people she didn’t know all that well understand. Generally, Nell could go one of two ways when it came to getting to know people. The first was that of her being an acquired taste, with the person slowly getting used to the witch with time and hopefully patience while she figured out how to mesh with them. The second was when they were drawn to her recklessness and spontaneity, seeing an opportunity for fun in the young woman that often wore off in them sooner rather than later, making her into something of a temporary novelty until people got tired of it. As for the other werewolf. “Well...I don’t know if you...know them,” she began, having the decency to look at least a little charginned at the fact that she’d already gone against his wishes. “It was just one, though!”

“Just one,” Kyle parroted. “This is exactly what I’m talking about, though. Why didn’t you at least ask me first? Depending on who it is, I might know them. Who was it?” If it was Alcher, that was a whole can of worms Kyle didn’t want to get into. Honestly, she scared him. She was intense to say the least. If it was Ari who was contacted, it was a little better, but Kyle still didn’t want her to know that he wasn’t totally in control. He’d worked so hard to keep that under wraps. He’d worked so hard to keep himself in some semblance of control. Ari didn’t need to hear from someone else what had happened. Kyle barely knew her as it was. If it was another wolf entirely, that was just embarrassing. What a great first impression to make. Hey, I’m Kyle, the guy that almost killed that witch in the alley. I’m sure you’ve heard all about me. That would go off great. “Just… Can we--can you--work on it? Otherwise, I don’t think this is gonna work out. I need to have some kind of agency in this whole thing, you know?” There was a sinking feeling that things would still not work out for them, but he tried to push that down with the murderous intentions. This had to work, or Kyle had all but run out of options.

“I- well-” Nell didn’t have all that good of a reason other than the fact that she’d still been functioning off the sense of urgency that came with seeing Bex torn into bits, and thinking a little too much about how fragile an untrained witch could be if attacked by a werewolf...again. “I don’t know,” she lied, not exactly all that willing to let Kyle peek into the place where she kept her trauma and the worries it caused. “I was just...worried.” It was a shitty answer, and he deserved better than that. She just wasn’t sure how to give it to him. “But the wolf- her name starts with an A...and ends with A.” Nevermind the fact that she hadn’t actually heard back from Ari, yet. “So if you know a wolf like that, it’s probably her.” He was asking the bare minimum of Nell, and she mulled over his request for a long moment as the two stood in the forest. Agency was a big part of learning control, wasn’t it? You couldn’t learn control unless you felt in control. That’s what she’d been trying to achieve with Bex. Shouldn’t the same apply to Kyle? “I can...try,” she acquiesced, not all that certain of how successful she might be with the endeavor. “But I might not be great at it so- you might have to be a little...patient.” It was something else Kyle shouldn’t have to deal with, but he deserved a warning, didn’t he? Now that she was feeling less combative, she longed even more for her tree and the security its height granted her. “Now...do you wanna sit in the tree or not?”

Kyle understood. Nell didn’t need to say more for him to get what she meant. She was trying to protect Bex. She was probably trying to protect Morgan, Mina, herself...countless other people. He couldn’t blame her for that, but it left him feeling helpless all the same. His situation felt out of his hands in more ways than one and he didn’t know how to reconcile that. Solemnly, Kyle nodded. It sounded like Nell was talking about a different wolf, he guessed. Alcher didn’t end with ‘A’ and neither did Ari. Wait, was Ari short for Ariana? He groaned softly. That would be his luck. Fuck. “All I’m asking of you is for you to try,” he said, nodding. Christ was he tired. Nell wasn’t only aggravating. She was exhausting, especially after a shift like that. “I can be patient if you can try,” he agreed. “Let’s sit in the tree.” They had a long road ahead of them.

“Great. Then I’ll try,” Nell repeated with a nod, still not sure how the beginning of her butchered attempt to help Kyle had enced them here. She should have thanked him for the offer of his patience, but even that felt too personal, making her feel a sense of vulnerability she wasn’t quite sure she wanted around Kyle. So instead she made her way back to the tree, climbing past the scratch marks Kyle had made against its trunk until she was sat on one of the lower branches, waiting for the werewolf to join her. Once the two of them were settled, her feet began to swing all over again, and she turned to the man beside her as the stiffness of her shoulders dissipated in the slightest. “So...what the fuck is up, Kyle?” She wasn’t sure where they’d end up, but at least they’d begun.

#// i LOVE KYLE THAT'S ALL #wickedswriting #chatzy #ch:kyle

14 notes · View notes

alexandenigtscreations · 4 years ago

Link

Chapters: 2/2

Martin does his best to treat the stubborn fool of an archivist.

[CHAPTER 1 HERE]

Swearing, Martin rushed forwards catching Jon under the arms before he collapsed completely. Nearly dropping him when he cried out in pain, the entirety of his slim fraim going rigid. He was hurting him. Christ!

“Sorry, sorry, sorry” Martin chanted, “w-we just need to get you sitting down, then we can have a look and it will all be over and-” Jon made a choked whimper from in back of his throat as Martin dragged him to a chair, propping him up on the table. Jon kept hold of his wrist the entire time, making their movements rather awkward. Hoping he was strong enough to sit. He was. Martin dared to hope it was a good sign.

“Christ Jon, what happened?”

Jon shook his head and winced. “Jus’ wanted ice-”

“Ice? Oh, oh right!” Martin leapt up and retrieved a medical grade ice pack from the ice box. Artifact storage had taken to squirling a few away incase of accidents... Sasha had attested to their frequency. The knot in his stomach tightened, had it truly been Sasha that had told him that? Or the thing that had replaced her?

Jon hesitated a moment before gingerly accepting the pack, curling it about the bandaged with a hiss leaving a muddy crimson smear across the plastic. Martin gasped, he couldn’t help it and took hold of Jon’s bare hand. Jon pulled back. Not before Martin saw the dirty broken blisters, some worn bloody, the skin already stiffening and cracking around exposed wounds.

They locked eyes, the Jon closed in on himself in an exhausted fashion.

“Oh Jon-” Martin started.

“It’s fine-”

“No- it’s not.” he stood “Hang tight and we’ll get that sorted, yeah?” Without waiting for an answer, Martin flipped on the electric kettle and left to get the first aid kit.

Another perk of Artifact storage was a hefty and well stocked first aid kit. Jon had his head down on the table, breaths coming in shallow and far too fast for Martin’s liking. It looked...painful.

He took out a cloth and a bowl of water, aiming to have Jon clean up some. He eyed the hoody caked in mud that hadn’t seemed to have dried. That wouldn't do, he’d get chilled that way, if he wasn’t already.

“Do you have a change of clothes?” he asked even though he already knew the answer. It was no secret that Jon stayed nights.

“I-I think so? Yes-”

“Good,” Martin nodded resolutely “Then let’s get you out of that jumper.” he winced, that hadn’t come out right.

“Right-’ Jon moved gingerly, his hand didn’t seem to work properly and he resolutely refused to allow the dominant one to leave the ice.

Martin watched him battle the hem of the hoody, chewing on his lower lip. Debating whether or not he should help his boss out of the layers. Was this a boundary he was able to cross or? No, the time for boundaries went to the wayside with the worms. This was something that needed to be done, plane and simple.

“Let me.” he leaned forwards and eased the garment up over Jon’s head, heart hammering all the while. This close, he could make out a ‘what the ghost’ logo with faded horror lettering. He hadn’t realized that Jon was a fan. Jon hissed as his body protested the movement, making Martin bite back words of comfort. His undershirt rode up exposing his torso and ohhh.

Bruises. Black and blotched with red; bulging out of his brown skin. Martin saw three, maybe four elongated marks and more discolorations before Jon peeled the sleeves off his arms; the shirt falling back into place. They’d only been visible for a moment, but they looked deep, perhaps in contusion territory. In which case, Jon really ought to get looked at in case of infection.

Martin was just about to comment when he spotted the gory line carved into Jon’s throat.

“What happened?” he found himself asking for the second time that night, insides twisting. His hand flew to the wound trying to determine how deep it was under the grime and flaking blood. It was still oozing, jagged scarlet edges giving wavy to a meaty pink, stretching clear across his neck. There was a large dark stain on the collar of the light T. His skin felt hotter than it should under his fingers, and Martin wondered if there was a fever there. Given his state, probably.

Jon recoyled. It was too much, course it was, Jon wasn’t the sort of person you touch lightly. Even Tim, who valued physical contact, was careful with Jon. Had been careful, Martin corrected. The casual side hugs or hand on shoulders had all but dried up what with Jon’s paranoia.

“It doesn’ matter.”

“Yes, Jon, it does matter.” he sat back “We really should take you to an A&E.”

“No!” there was a touch of fear in his voice and his eyes went wide.

“Jon” Martin was exasperated. Wishing this man would stop being so, so stubborn and get some proper help! This was out of his depth. Reminding him chillingly of having to dig worms out of Jon with a corkscrew. How he had screamed under his touch-

“‘tective Tonner-” he began, hunching over, words blurring together “I-I don’ know if I’m...clear-” he took a shaky breath “Please. I-I know, don’ have the right- for favors-”

“It’s alright.” Martin said with a grimace. Though it wasn't, it wasn't at all- The man had been on the run, stupid, how had he forgotten? “I-I get it.”

Jon huffed and closed his eyes. Seeming to breathe easier.

“Then let's see what we can do about your hands.”

Martin did the best he could to clean it up. The long sleeves had prevented the grime from going to fare up his arms, which was about the only good thing here. His hand was rubbed raw, the tips of his fingers oddly blistered and unnaturally warm to the touch. He didn’t like it. The dirt had gotten deep into the broken blisters, and he wasn’t sure how successful he’d been at flushing it out with the wound wash. Normally, he’d leave blisters out in the open air to heal, but these weren’t those types of blisters.

Once it looked clean to the eye, Martin smeared antibacterial ointment on, covering the palm with gauze and medical tape. Hardly a replacement for a trained medical professional, but a damn sight better than what Jon could have done for himself.

Jon sighed. Carefully curling long fingers apparently testing the flexibility; keeping his hand in place on Martin’s. It was hard not to notice how snuggly the bony hand fit in his own. The weight of them felt...nice. He huffed, irritated with himself. This was hardly an appropriate time.

“Better?”

“Yes-” he withdrew back in on himself, for an instant Martin did want to let go “Yes. I-it does. Thank you.”

“Good.” flush creped into his cheeks “Then on to the next one.”

Jon seemed reluctant to move it from the ice pack so Martin did it for him. He was deliberate and careful as he unwrapped the solid T-shirt. If Jon’s hisses were any indication, this hurt like hell. With each layer removed his dread grew. Jon seemed to have coated the wound in some sort of ointment, making the badges damp and heavy. That hadn’t stopped the blood from seeping through.

Martin inhaled sharply when he finally peeled the last of the bandage away.

“Oh jeez Jon.” it was swollen, the palm an alarming shade of red and surface marred by broken blisters. In some areas, patches of dermis seemed to be missing- His stomach churned as though he was going to be sick.

“I know.” Jon moaned.

“Is- is that a burn?” he hated burns, they were his least favorite thing in the world, and Jon- Christ!

“Yes.” his voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

“Don’t suppose you’re going to share what happened there either.” he couldn’t keep the hardness out of his tone.

Jon waved a hand vaguely “Got a ss-statement, Jude Perry.”

Martin frowned, the name sounded familiar. “Hang on, wasn’t she-”

“The church of the lightless flame? Agnus Montague?” he grimaced “yeah.” and he curled smaller, placing his head on knobby knees and resting his hand once more on the ice pack.

“Ohhh Jeez.” Martin was torn between wanting to ask more questions and not wanting….details. Instead he pulled out his phone. He knew enough about burns to know that they required special treatment, which required a bit of research. Mindful to not look at the images the screen threatened to divulge.

First order of business was to suss out the degree of burn. It was oozing fluid, which meant it wasn’t a first degree, but wasn’t, oh lord, blackened- (he checked just to make sure) so probably not a third degree. Then, type of burn, he skimmed through the list until “Thermal” jumped out. That was probably a safe bet. The article recommended seeking treatment by a medical professional if it was a deep burn, or if it bled. Hugh, who would of guessed bleeding was a bad sign?

Martin grimaced and sent a silent curse to Detective Tonner for spooking Jon away from the A&E.

That article ended, so Martin went looking for information on second degree thermal burns. His heart jumped to his throat. He seized the ice pack from Jon and chucked it into the sink as though it had personally offended him. Jon started and looked like he was about to say something when Martin headed him off.

“Ice can cause nerve damage in burns.” he said quickly by way of explanation. Oh god, he hadn’t made things worse had he? His mum was always saying he made things worse! He took hold of Jon’s hand, inspecting it as if he knew what he was looking for. The cold quickly fled under his touch, replaced by an unnatural heat. Was that a good thing? Martin had no way of knowing.

Jon made a strangled whimper, his narrow chest hitching. “Martin-it’s-it’s hot-” he was trembling again, but otherwise keeping horribly still.

“What? Oh!” heat sensitive, Jon was heat sensitive because of the burn! That was something he should have remembered. Stupid! He let go with a hasty apology. Jon wirily propped his arm above his head, obscuring most of his face from Martin’s view.

Running water. The article said it was important to cool it with running water. Martin crossed over to the sink and ran the faucet on the coldest setting. Then got a glass of water and shook out a few Paracetamol pills for Jon to take.

“We’re going to move you over to the sink.” Jon unfurled as if to stand but Martin stopped him. “Stay put, yeah?” he doubted that standing would be a good thing for him at the moment. Instead, he took hold of the back of the chair and dragged it across the floor to the sink. It made an embarrassingly loud squeak as they progressed, but they didn’t have far to travel.

Soon, Jon was positioned against the counter, arm resting over the sink divide with the water rushing over his hand. He gave a relieved sigh, the lines on his face easing slightly.

“Better?”

Jon nodded. Martin thought that he was going to nod off at any moment and had him take medicine. He was pleased to see Jon didn’t have much trouble holding the glass and took it all down. He set the timer on his phone for fifteen minutes.

He hoped that the water would loosen the grime of the dirt salv mixture which would definitely be a problem if not cleaned away. Jon had tried to care for it, but clearly hadn’t given it the same attention as he did work assignments. It was at once frustrating and endearing.

“Jon?”

“Hmmn?”

“Would it be alright if, if I get your neck?” he seemed sensitive about that one. Martin didn’t want to spook him again.

Jon was silent for a moment, and Martin thought he hadn’t heard; then the soft “Yes.” came.

Martin nodded relieved. Taking a freshly dampened cloth and carefully wrapping it about Jon’s throat, pulling long tangled locks out of the way and smoothing the fly aways back. Noting the mud crusted in his hair and the way Jon’s eyes fluttered at the touch and seemed to be leaning in and oh no thiswasnotokay!

He jumped to his feet, muttering something about “getting the tea” and busied himself with the kettle and mugs. Making the brew how he knew Jon liked it like it was second nature. Quickly tucking the tin with the legend of decaf back on the shelf. Knowing full well Jon found the very existence of decaf offensive.

Right- Martin thought, the burn. Taking a moment to center himself, Martin pulled the table closser and flipped off the water. Jon made a reproachful cat-like sound that caused Martin to choke. What the hell was that?!

Warmth bloomed in his chest. Martin barely kept the smile from his voice as he soothed “I know, I know- just, time to get that bandaged up.” before remembering who exactly he was addressing and feeling the flush deepen in his face. The sharp rebuke he’d expected, never came.

The inflammation seemed to have cooled considerably, which Martin could only guess to be a good thing. The blisters seemed a good deal cleaner as he patted it dry, the salv and dirt having washed away.

Jon had been unusually quiet, so Martin filled the void, explaining exactly what he was doing and why “The article recommended non-stick bandages, no ointments or sprays. There was something about trapping heat in, or infections?” he huffed a nervous laugh, peeling the material from their sterilized wrappings. Jon hummed distractedly. So he was listening after all- Martin could work with that. The talking also helped Martin keep his mind of the type of injury he was treating, serving to calm him.

As tenderly as he could, he wrapped each long, swollen finger, moving to the palm and thumb. Jon was watching him again, he could feel those deep brown eyes focus in on him as he worked. The burns covered, Martin switched to gauze and encased the hand loosely to allow proper circulation and accommodate any inflammation that may occur. He told Jon as much.

When all was said and done, Martin took another damp cloth and laid it over the forearm, far away from the wrappings to keep them clean. It was meant to further cool the blood flowing to the appendage. At least, that was what Martin was hoping it would do. Cold water on your wrists could cool you on a hot day, so why wouldn’t that principle apply here?

That left the neck wound. Martin grimaced noting how Jon’s soiled hair brushed against his throat. He debated if it would be a good idea to tape Jon into some plastic and have him wash up in the Archive’s shower rooms (another accommodation for artifact storage). Then again, the man had nearly collapsed opening the freezer. So, maybe not. He could try and wipe it out or…

The sink had a spray nozzle. It would be much easier to use that. Once again he bit his lip, trying to parse out if this was absolutely necessary or just a random excuse to feel Jon’s hair. If he was being wholly honest with himself, it was a bit of both. Not to mention it would be easier to treat the neck injury.

“I-I’ll be right back.” he said, going to retrieve the shampoo and conditioner he’d never bothered to bring back to his flat and a spare jumper. Jon was leaning heavily against the counter, but kept glancing this way and that as if keeping watch; starting when Martin knocked on the door.

“Christ- Martin. I thought-” he swallowed hard “never mind.”

“Just me.” he smiled wanly “We need to give your hair a bit of a scrub down, get the mud out. Alright?”

Jon starred and Martin’s stomach dropped. Sure that Jon hated the idea, that he hated Martin touching him, yet alone treating his injuries. He barely tolerated Martin bringing him tea. Oh God, he’d made it perfectly clear how he felt about Martin, hadn’t he? Hadn’t he?

“You’re hair- it-” why was his mouth so dry?

“I heard you-” the awkward pause dragged out where Martin’s heart did violence to his ribcage “Why are you being so….nice? to me?”

So the paranoia was kicking in? But no- this sounded different...the way his voice hitched at the end.

“I-” Jon swallowed “I haven’ treated-you fairly. Wasn’ professional-” Strained, his voice was strained and quaking like the rest of him.

Christ was he going to cry? If anyone was deserving of a good cry right now, it would be Jon. But...Martin wished Tim was here. That Tim was here and wasn’t angry with Jon. That Sasha was here and wasn’t- there was a sharp pang in his heart. How long had Jon known that Sasha wasn’t….her anymore- They’d known him back in research, were friends even. Martin had no idea what to do with a Jon so far off script.

Edging closer, Martin hummed thoughtfully “because you need it.” he said. “A-and when I needed help with the w-worms- you gave it to me. So now I’m helping you. Okay?”

“You shouldn’t have to-to put up with this- M’ not even a person-” there it was again that strange quaking voice, he was breathing shallow and too fast.

Martin considered for a moment “No- no, I really shouldn’t.” Tired, Martin was very tired. It was just sinking in that Jon had tried to protect both himself and Tim from the Not!Sasha? “But it’s not you I’m putting up with. It’s this place.” he scratched his forehead, he didn’t want to talk about this now. Not the worry, the division in the staff, the things out there intent on hurting them, the disappearances, the fact they were trapped in a job where the only way out seemed to be dying, or anything to do with Elias and that persistent feeling of being watched. He-he didn’t want to think about it.

“So I’m going to push the table up to the sink, and you’re going to have a lie down so that I can get the dirt out, okay?”

“Yes” little more than a horse whisper.

In no time at all, Martin found himself soaking and sudsing Jon’s hair. His neck pillowed on a few rags and burn elevated above his heart. As with before, Jon’s eyes began to flutter and he leaned into the touch. He took his time working up a lather, rinsing and repeating until the grit on his skull was gone and the water ran clear.

This was soothing work, he fell into his usual pattern that he did when dying his mum’s hair. It was the first time that Jon seemed to genuinely relax; actually looking his age. How could he of thought this man was capable of murder? It was true he was critical, borderline confrontational with a nansty habit of pushing things too far and yet...he cared, at the center of it all he was very human. Trying his best even with the impossible mess he’d been charged to sort out. And Martin had grown to respect that.

He worked the cream rinse in, teasing out the tangles; enjoying the way the black and silver locks slipped through his fingers. Leaving it to sit while he had a look at the neck wound.

It was much deeper than he’d wanted it to be. The cloth had done its job though and the clean up was easy. While sleeping in the archives, Martin had done a lot of research on sutures; just in case. He took out the sterilized strips and started at the center, pulling the skin together as best he could. Then worked from the edges inwards, laying the strips over the edges of previous placed ones till it resembled a railroad track. Transforming it from the image of a closed eye to a straight forwards latus work. In theory, it should strengthen the hold of the butterfly stitches. But it wasn’t like he had instruction. He finished up with ointment, gauze and a bandage around his neck.

By the time Martin finished rinsing out his hair, he was surprised to find Jon fast asleep. Tim had stories of strange places he’d found Jonathan Sims sleeping in research, with the funniest being wedged upright between two filing cabinets and curled into a vacant shelf in document storage. But this was his first time seeing it.

Martin pressed a hand to his forehead. There was no longer any doubt of a fever, with everything that had happened it wasn’t a surprise. It was probably the most normal thing to have happened all day. He draped his jumper on the sleeping figure. It all but swallowed him in its soft folds, but Martin could still make out the labored breaths.

Was this karma for lying on his CV? If so, he had a few choice words to share with karma.

An hour, Martin decided he’d give Jon an hour before sending him home. There were a couple of poems in this hellish day. Wishing he hadn’t left his journal at home, Martin instead busied himself by tidying up and returning the first aid kit to its proper place. Even managed to head off Emmet, the night custodian, before he walked in on Jon. Christ, was he trapped here like the rest of them, doomed forever to be cleaning up after the archives? Did he know? Or was he as ignorant as Martin had been yesterday?

Jon was plainly still knackered after the rest, but seemed steadier, a little more himself than before.

Martin had taken the liberty of locating Jon’s change of clothing. They were fussily folded, the collar of the button down even propped up with a bit of cardboard. Handing them to Jon with a “We can’t have you taking a cab like that, people will think you ate a puppy- or something.”

Jon had actually smiled a little “Who's to say the puppy didn’t have it coming?”

“Jon!”

He shrugged, shoulders shrouded in Martin’s’ knit, and winced “Just saying-it could have messed up the archives.” he gave a side glance at Martin who flushed head to toe.

He helped Jon to the waiting cab, having the thin man lean against him. Using the opportunity to give him veiled threats on returning to the archives too soon and recommending an A&E.

Jon had thanked him then, as he was gingerly placed into the cab. Martin couldn’t help but feel that he was in serious trouble as he watched the tail lights vanish round the corner.

29 notes · View notes

my-soul-sings · 4 years ago

Text

This Is Everything I Never Wanted: Chapter 1

Fandom: Wannabe Challenge Characters: Everyone! Mainly Taehee VS. Yooha (but not TaeheexYooha) because I’m here for the drama and tea 👀☕️

Summary: An alternative account of events in which Taehee was the one who summoned Yooha from the scroll instead of MC.

A/N: I live for Taehee and Yooha's brawling in the game. This idea popped into my head last night and I went ham on it, enjoy this crack-fic, I hope it makes you smile/laugh. :)

Now up on AO3!

***

It all started the day Biho came home with a scroll painting. Frankly, it looked weird. There was a man with long, silver hair on it, and Taehee didn’t like the weird aura coming from the scroll. Or maybe it was just the man’s face he didn’t like. Something about it pissed him off—probably that annoying, arrogant smirk on his face.

But Taehee couldn’t object to Biho hanging it up on the wall in the living room, especially not when he looked so mesmerised by the picture of the sea in the background. The younger man had always been fascinated by the sea, so Taehee decided to leave it alone. MC also seemed to like it too, and if the house owner herself had no complaints, who was he to protest?

On hindsight, he should have said something. Insisted on his way—something he rarely did and would probably be easily forgiven for.

At first, Taehee kept noticing the painting, unnerved by the feeling that the man’s eyes were following him, watching his every move. He swore it wasn’t his own imagination, and he felt goosebumps rise on his skin whenever he walked past it. He couldn’t ask Biho to put it in his own room though; the wall in their room already looked messy enough because of Hansol, who had a compulsive need to buy posters of his favourite musicians.

With little options at his disposal, Taehee tried to brush it off. Ignore it, pretend it wasn’t there.

It took a few days, but soon enough he practically forgot that the painting even existed, for the most part. And life went on, as per normal.

That is, until Cleaning Day.

It was his favourite day of the year, as excruciating as it could get at times. No matter how clear or detailed his instructions were, his housemates never seemed to understand how to clean properly. That, or they simply didn’t care, which Taehee didn’t understand.

It was easy enough to be patient when it came to MC. After all, she was probably just tired. He could manage doing part of her share of the work.

But Biho and Hansol? Those two hardly ever performed up to par. Hansol would say that he had finished wiping the shelves, and Taehee would swipe a finger on the underside of the wood, and there would be a sheet of dust coating the pad of his finger.

Biho was no better. After making a towering stack of his books and simply leaving them in the corner of the room, he would find a place to sleep, even if it meant hiding under the bed to avoid Taehee’s attention. Or wrath.

After a full three hours of back-breaking work that day, Taehee had neared his limit. The breaking point came when he just finished washing the toilets, and he arrived in the living room to the sight of all three of his housemates knocked out blissfully on the couch.

“You... haa...” He had no words. He was exhausted too, but the kitchen had yet to be touched. And yet the three of them were already resting as if they had accomplished a lot over the past three hours compared to him.

In his mind, the list of chores still unfinished gnawed away at the remaining strands of his sanity. That wasn’t even including the things that he’d probably have to re-do, courtesy of his housemates’ terrible cleaning standards.

The thought of the work left undone was enough to draw another long sigh from him as he deflated a little, a frown appearing on his face. Taking care of his house was a huge weight on his shoulders. In fact, it started getting a little too heavy for his shoulders to bear.

It took Taehee a hot minute to realise that the weight was no longer metaphorical.

“Ew. I’m finally out of the damn scroll after so long and the first thing I see is a guy’s sweaty back? What the hell?”

He heard a foreign voice in his ear. A man’s voice. And then he realised there were arms wrapped around him, as well as a pair of legs and unfamiliar shoes behind him.

Shoes. In the house. That he just mopped. Twice.

Taehee turned around, about to let loose a string of curses at whoever it was, when he realised just what exactly he was looking at.

It was a man he didn’t know, dressed in some traditional cosplay, his curious grey eyes scanning the house around him.

Instinctively he jumped back, confused and alarmed by the presence of a stranger whom he didn’t recall letting in. Where could he have come from? The doors had been locked and the windows were open but they certainly weren’t big enough for a man this size to crawl through easily.

But wait... there was something familiar about him. Taehee couldn’t quite place his finger on it just yet, but he didn’t like the feeling of deja vu washing over him. Or the sense that this guy wasn’t just an ordinary man—if he was even human at all.

“Hey.” Taehee’s attention snapped to the man who was now looking at him. He bristled, for some reason already disliking the guy and his narrow eyes.

“Were you the one who summoned me?” the stranger questioned.

“What?” Taehee had to be dreaming. Or hallucinating. Or both. It was probably from being overworked, which he blamed his housemates wholeheartedly for (except for MC).

"Do you not speak Korean?” the stranger prodded when Taehee went silent for a tad too long.

“O-Of course I do,” he replied, not sure why he felt the need to be polite with this intruder.

Wait. He didn’t.

“How did you get in the house? I can call the police on you, this is trespassing.”

“You’re asking me?” the strange man sputtered, raising his hands. “You’re the one who summoned me! You called my name!”

He could at least come up with a more reasonable-sounding excuse. Taehee didn’t know who he was, let alone his name, for goodness’ sake.

“I didn’t call your name. I don’t know who the hell you are, but explain yourself. Who are you and how did you get in here? I’m not joking when I said I will call the police,” Taehee warned, holding up the used toilet brush in his hand as a makeshift weapon. Even if it didn’t do much physical damage it would at least disgust the guy enough to make him go far away.

“Hey, hey, I think there’s been a bit of a misunderstanding here. I, need you, to explain to me where the hell I am. What year is it anyway? You guys have some interesting clothes,” he said, his eyes trailing over to the three sleeping housemates. How they were sleeping through this was beyond Taehee, but he felt alarm bells go off in his head when he noticed the man’s gaze lingering on MC’s sleeping form.

Before he could attack with the toilet brush though, suddenly a blinding white light engulfed the man, and Taehee had to squeeze his eyes shit.

When he opened them again, the light had vanished and the man now sported a shorter haircut, his silver wavy locks styled in a more modern way. His costume had also disappeared, now replaced by a blue silk shirt, a silver necklace hanging around his neck and a pair of long black slacks. Thankfully, the shoes were gone.

“There. Much better.” He walked casually over to the television to check out his appearance reflected on the blank screen. “Not bad,” the narcissist muttered to himself.

“What did you just do?”

“Changed into something more appropriate. You sure your brain is alright?”

Taehee ignored the insult. “You still haven’t explained yourself properly.”

“I told you. You summoned me here by calling my name.”

He was quite persistent with this ridiculous story. Deciding to play along in case he could get more information out of him, Taehee asked, “What’s your name?”

The stranger stared at him like he was stupid, but Taehee maintained his frown long enough that the intruder finally relented begrudgingly with a dragged-out sigh. “It’s Yooha.”

Yoo-ha. Yooha? Taehee didn’t know anyone by that weird name, much less said it out loud for no reason.

Unless...

“You... haa....”

Could it be... it was all because of that resigned sigh that had escaped his lips when he stepped into the living room just now?

The realisation struck Taehee like a bucket of ice cold water being poured no him. That counted? Seriously?

“What’s your name?" Yooha asked.

“Taehee,” he replied thoughtlessly, before biting down on his tongue. This was hardly the time for introductions. “Now tell me, what are you? Where did you come from?”

In response, Yooha gestured casually to the wall by the television. More specifically, the painting that Biho had bought the other day, except now it looked ostensibly different:

The man in it was no longer there.

“I was trapped in that painting, but you called my name so I was finally released,” he explained, the nonchalance in his drawl grating on Taehee’s nerves. Was this a joke to him?

But... the more Taehee thought about it, the more he realised there was no other way to make sense of this bizarre situation. Yooha’s explanation seemed to be the only logical one, even if impossible. Unless, of course, he was dreaming. But a quick pinch to his arm and the sting that followed indicated that he wasn’t, quite unfortunately.

There was a groan, and Taehee glanced in Yooha’s direction. “What.”

“It’s just...” he scratched his head, his face contorting with a perplexed expression. “I’m not happy about this... but since you’re the one who summoned me out of the scroll, I’m now bound to you as a servant.”

“Come again?” Taehee gawked, which earned him an exasperated sigh.

“Of all things, I had to be bound to a mere goblin...” he grumbled to himself. Then, raising his head, he gave Taehee a hard look. “You’re not very smart, are you?”

“I’m a doctor. And wait- are you by any chance... a seon-ho?”

“Finally saying something sensible, are we?” the man scoffed with an eye roll. Taehee had to purse his lips into a thin line to keep from making a sharp remark. There was no need to prove himself to this complete stranger who was now calling him his... servant? The hell?

“So what,” Taehee began, “I’m your... master now?”

“Ugh, it sucks when you say it out loud, but yes. That’s right.” Yooha plopped onto an empty chair, stretching his limbs and settling into a comfortable position. He sort of resembled a cat.

“And who are they?” Yooha jabbed a finger at the pile of sloths as well as MC on the couch, who were still asleep.

“The people I live with,” Taehee replied, eyes narrowing at him.

“Three guys and a girl? What’s up with that?”

“None of your business.”

“Ooh. Master is feisty.” He paused, a devious smirk playing on his lips. “Is it because of the girl?”

“Shut up,” Taehee snapped quite uncharacteristically. It had been less than fifteen minutes and already this guy was seriously wearing his patience thin. “And stop calling me ‘Master’. It’s gross.”

"Yeah, I will. I almost threw up after saying that.”

A moment of silence passed, neither knowing what to say. This was a weird situation, to say the least, and Taehee wasn’t sure if he had fully processed it yet. A lot had happened today and he just wanted to take a nice, hot shower and go to bed. Screw dinner, he was too tired to cook. Maybe when he woke up, this would all go away, including this pesky nuisance, and everything would go back to normal.

“So...” Yooha spoke up, unceremoniously interrupting Taehee’s attempt to comfort himself. “What now?”

Taehee shrugged, but before he could say anything, he heard a voice.

“Taehee...” MC mumbled. Her sweet voice usually made his heart flutter, but right then, it made his entire body go rigid.

“Who’s that?”

#wannabe challenge #wannabe challenge fanfiction #wannabe challenge fanfic #kim taehee #yooha #kang biho #yoo hansol #my writing

14 notes · View notes

maria-scribbles · 4 years ago

Text

glitter + crimson (let’s start a riot)//part four

summary: carmen actually steps foot inside her own house after discovering her daughter isn’t the only teenager living there. the hurricane hurtling toward the island matches the tempest in sailor’s heart as she finally gets some long-overdue words off her chest that her mom isn’t very happy to hear and two friends inch closer and closer to crossing that metaphorical line.

word count: 6.6k+ (oops, i did it again 😅)

ship: jj maybank x oc (sailor flynn)

warnings n stuff: mentions of abuse/neglect, gambling addiction, child abandonment, being kicked out of home, fluff, swearing, underage drinking, flirting, having shitty dads, mentions of weed, star wars, and sailor’s unhealthy addiction to nutella, mention and direct quote of the percy jackson and the olympians series (again), subtle nod to new girl (i love seeing how many references i can make lmao)

a/n: first off, i just want to thank each and every one of you for your likes, reblogs, and especially your wonderful comments! they mean to world to me, seriously ❤ now, here comes the dramaaaaa! we get to dive into sailor’s complicated, turbulent relationship with her mother (sailor, like john b, has a very big, very real fear of being abandoned by people she loves because of her dad) before heading toward the canon timeline of the show. the quote about the sea near the beginning is from jaques cousteau, legendary french naval officer, marine explorer and filmmaker who co-created the aqua-lung and paved the way for modern scuba diving. he also pioneered marine conservation and discovered the wreck of the hmhs britannic, sister ship of the rms titanic! so overall, he was a pretty cool dude and i feel that he’d be a personal hero to ocean-loving sailor (maybe even kiara as well, considering her love of the environment/conservation).

unbetaed as usual so all mistakes are my b.

gif credit to @toesure (who has the most beautiful gifs, ngl)

~Masterlist~

part four: high tide

The sun’s just peeking its rays over the horizon, painting the deep blue sky the softest shades of pink and orange. Calm, steady waves lap against the shore and over Sailor’s bare feet as she stands alone on an empty and desolate beach, the only signs of life coming from the seagulls squawking overhead. The air is thick and sticky with early morning humidity, the type that makes it hard to breathe and frizzes the hell out of her wavy hair, and she can already feel moisture starting to collect on her skin.

Why’s she here again? She can’t remember a reason and come to think of it, she can’t remember exactly how she got here, either. Did she drive? She turns her back to the ocean and its entrancing pull to look for her truck but finds the surf shop is the only thing she can see clearly, the world surrounding it blurred in an incomprehensible mess of color; the sight should’ve caused anxiety to take root in her chest but somehow she finds herself unbothered, relaxed. Somehow, she feels at home.

“The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever.”

Sailor’s head snaps to the left at the sound of a painfully familiar voice. A tall, redheaded man now stands in what was only a few seconds ago an empty space, smiling out over the water with the brilliant colors of the sky reflecting in his green eyes.

“Dad?”

Ryan doesn’t seem to hear the incredulous tone in her voice or even the fact that she spoke at all as he turns to face her and asks a question of his own, “It’s true, don’t you think?”

Of course she does. The sea has had her under its captivating, magnetic spell ever since she first laid eyes on it when she was a toddler, a baby, even. Her parents always said she wanted to spend every waking moment at the beach, combing the sand for shells and staring out at the water, imagining what new discoveries were waiting for her in its depths. Her mouth moves on it’s own as she replies, “You know I do.”

It’s not what she wants to say at all. She wants so badly to yell at him, let out her frustrations and hurt and pain ‘how dare you leave us’ ‘what did I do wrong’ ‘why haven’t you come back yet’ but finds that she can’t form the words. It’s like she’s watching a video, or maybe reliving a memory -oh. It feels like a memory because it is one, she recognizes with a start, of the week before he took off and abandoned them for the very first time, leaving behind a gaping, bleeding wound that neither Sailor nor her mother ever managed to properly stitch back together.

Ryan’s smile widens. “Always got your eyes on the horizon, Starfish. Just like your old man.”

Her heart clenches at the old, familiar nickname that she hasn’t heard in years, like she’s looking at a favorite pair of childhood shoes or an old t-shirt from a family vacation long past and realizing she doesn’t fit in them anymore, that she’s moved on, and surprisingly, it doesn’t sting as much as she thought it would.

“Come on,” Her father says and when he reaches out to her, Sailor finds herself reaching back with a much smaller, eight-year old sized hand that’s swallowed by Ryan’s larger, calloused palm. “Think you can go fifteen feet today?”

“Fifteen? I’m gonna go twenty!” She declares confidently in her most grown-up voice, giggling when her dad beams and hoists her little body up into his arms, the stubble on his face tickling her skin as he plants a kiss on her cheek.

“That’s my girl.”

He runs into the surf, tossing a laughing Sailor into the ocean when it’s waist deep before they wade out, further and further until the sandy floor drops away from their feet and they’re left treading water.

“Ready, Starfish?”

“Ready!”

The sun breaks over the horizon and casts its golden light on the pair, turning their hair an identical shade of fiery red just as they dive below. She has to work harder to keep up with her father’s longer strokes but she does it and reaches the bottom the same time he does; he smiles widely and reaches out to quickly cup her cheek, pride shining clearly in his eyes and she beams back before turning away to scan the floor for any worthy shells. Finding a knobbed whelk a few feet away, she swims over to grab it before pushing off toward the surface, Ryan following close behind. The sun becomes brighter and brighter the closer she gets and just when her head breaks through the waves-

Sailor wakes.

The early morning sun shines across her eyes through the curtains as she stares up at the surfboard above her bed, the very shelf were the whelk from that day still sits, proudly displayed with her other finds. Yawning, she runs her hands over her face and blinks away the last threads of sleep still clinging to her lashes, along with the memory of her dream. Moments like that with her father were rare. Ryan was a blast to be around when he was happy doing something he wanted to do, like diving for shells, hitting up the bowling alley for a few games, or taking his old, beat up boat out into the marsh to fish for hours on end (never something mundane as doing the dishes or folding the laundry, no, those were children’s jobs and being an only kid, those responsibilities fell to Sailor.). Moments like that were when she felt that -naively, foolishly- her dad was actually proud of her, that he wasn’t horribly inconvenienced by her having the audacity to be his daughter, to be born, that maybe he loved her as much as she loved him.

Cold from a sudden shiver that runs through her body, she rolls onto her side to seek out the best human space heater she knows but her arm only finds empty sheets lacking warmth, her hand reaching for someone who’s no longer there. She frowns and sits up, fingers automatically running through her sleep mussed waves in a semi-futile attempt to fix them into something less resembling a bird’s nest. A quick check of the phone she doesn’t remember plugging in to charge reveals its just before 7 in the morning and her confusion over her missing bedmate only grows; JJ’s rarely ever conscious before 9 AM at the absolute earliest and almost never by his own volition unless surfing’s involved. Even Binx is gone from his usual spot at the end of the bed, leaving her truly alone in the tiny room.

On the floor alongside his boots, the backpack she never noticed him having yesterday is still where he dropped it with its zipper open wide, while his phone rests next to hers on the bedside table and Sailor feels an almost embarrassing wave of relief wash over her knowing he’s still here, that he didn’t just up and disappear in the middle of the night, that he stayed (of all the times he’s come to her before, only once did he leave before dawn and, after she’d frantically tracked him down at John B’s place, tears in her eyes and streaming down her face at the thought of him returning to the lion’s den that he called home, he held her close and promised to never do it again.). She pulls herself out of bed and crosses the room to pull on a random hoodie from the closet before pocketing her phone and padding into the hall, the wooden floor cool under her bare feet.

A demanding meow comes from the kitchen followed immediately by a vexed, “Binx, my dude. For the last time, you can’t have this.” JJ’s bright laugh echoes throughout the room when Binx meows again, this one more insistent than the last and the redhead smiles, quietly shuffling forward to lean against the wall. He doesn’t notice, instead holding a finger to his lips as he shushes the cat sitting on the counter beside him, then turns back to whatever he’s doing. “Be quiet, dumbass! You don’t wanna wake your mom up, do you?”

“I don’t know, sounds to me like he might need my help.”

He startles at her teasing voice, nearly dropping the butter knife in his hand as she steps forward and scoops Binx into her arms, pressing a kiss to his fuzzy cheek. “Is mean old J not feeding you, Binxy? That just won’t do!”

He rolls his eyes but the grin tugging the corners of his mouth upward betrays his amusement as he says sarcastically, “Yeah, I’m the bad guy for not giving the brat Nutella. Great.”

With a laugh, Sailor gives the cat another loving scratch behind the ears before gently setting him on the floor and hoisting herself onto the counter beside JJ, her legs swinging back and forth and lightly brushing against his side. “So...you’re up early.” She says, watching him scrape the last bit of Nutella out of the jar and smear it on some toast, another piece already made on the plate at his elbow.

“Yeah, I woke up and couldn’t go back to bed.” He shrugs, tossing the knife in the sink and the empty container into the trash; her stomach does a little flip when he brings his hand to his mouth and licks away the chocolate left behind on his thumb, then continues, “Sorry if I woke you up. I tried to be quiet but that shithead over there wouldn’t shut up.”

He nods his chin in the direction of a lounging Binx, stretched out on the back of the couch in the sun and she shakes her head. “Don’t worry, you didn’t. I-” She shrugs, too, and meets his blue-eyed gaze. “I guess I couldn’t sleep, either.”

“Bad dream?” JJ asks, holding the plate of toast out to her and she takes a piece with a grateful smile as she replies, “I’d call it more of a bittersweet memory.”

They both fall into a comfortable silence while they eat until he suddenly asks another question around a mouthful of breakfast, “About your dad?”

Sailor freezes mid-chew, her father’s green eyes flicking away from her best friend’s face toward the floor as she swallows thickly, her free hand anxiously clenching the fabric of her shorts. After a long, pregnant pause in which they finish their food and he puts the dirty plate in the sink, she finally says softly, “I’m sorry.”

“Huh?”

She apologizes again, staring down at the floor and swinging her legs back and forth, her bare feet hitting the cabinet with dull thuds.

“For what?” His brow furrows in confusion while he takes a step forward to stand between her legs, one hand reaching to hook a finger under her chin and lift her head so he can look her in the eye, the other resting on her knee. “Seriously, help me out here ‘cause I’m confused as fuck.”

“Because I feel guilty, okay?” She starts, eyelids briefly closing as she takes a deep breath before snapping open again and continuing before he can interrupt, “Here I am, getting upset over a stupid dream I had about my gambling addict dad that ditched me when your dad does that,” -she points to his bruised ribs- “and this,” -her palm rests on his cheek, thumb skimming over his scabbed lip- “and God, I just-”

“Whoa, hold up there, Sail.” JJ cuts her off, his free hand joining the other in cupping her face, “Just because your dad never hit you doesn’t mean you don’t have something to be pissed about. He abandoned you, stole your mom’s money, and made you feel like shit! You have a right to be mad as fuck about it.”

“But-”

“But nothing! We’re not having a fucking competition about who has the shittiest dad,” -He smirks devilishly, brushing a wayward red curl off her forehead- “because they both suck major dick. End of story.”

In spite of herself, Sailor snickers as she winds her arms around his neck and pulls him close, resting her head in the crook of his shoulder while his own arms slide around her waist. “We should start a club.” She jokes lightly and feels his snort of laughter against her ear in response.

“‘Shitty Dad Society,’” He declares proudly, “I call being president.”

“Well, I’m your VP! Binx’s our secretary- shit, I’ll be treasurer, too ‘cause I don’t trust you with any type of financial situation at all.”

He laughs again, hand tightening its grip on her waist and she smiles into his neck as he says, “That’s fair. We should make shirts.”

They settle into another comfortable silence after that, both more than happy to relax in the other’s arms and just be. It’s one of her favorite things about..whatever they are, the ease, the contentment, the familiarity felt when they’re together are sentiments she never, ever wants to lose and a thought, an exciting, dangerous thought pops into her head: what if he never has to leave?

“Come live with me.”

“...what?”

Oh, fuck, she just said that out loud, didn’t she? Brain, enter panic mode. The redhead abruptly pulls out of his embrace and buries her already blushing face into shaking hands, closing her eyes tight for good measure, stammering between her fingers, “Nothing, nothing! I said nothing!”

“Pretty sure you said something,” His hands encircle her wrists and gently pull them down to her lap. “And it wasn’t ‘nothing.’”

She stares down at their entwined fingers resting on her thighs, the backs of his hands deliriously warm against her exposed skin and grounding her to this (scary, exciting, vulnerable) moment, and blurts out in a rush, “I said, come live here. With me.”

JJ doesn’t speak, but the way his hands almost imperceptibly tighten their hold on hers -she would’ve missed it if she hadn’t already been looking- compels her to raise her head and meet his eyes; the indescribable depth of the ocean is behind his gaze, as well as the barest hint of pure, brazen hope, and it says everything his mouth won’t.

“Remember yesterday, when you said you don’t know how much more you can take?” She asks. At his tight nod, she weaves her fingers even more intricately with his and admits softly, “Well, I’m not sure how much more I can take, either.”

Sailor’s eyes sweep over the cuts on his face with all the gentleness of a lover, his lip first, followed by the one on his cheekbone before meeting his again. “I can’t...I can’t see you hurt like this anymore.”

Blue stares into green for an insurmountable stretch of time, long enough that she starts to think that she should’ve just kept her big mouth shut, until he finally whispers, “Seriously?”

“J, I’ve never been more serious about something in my entire life. I can’t let him do this to you anymore.” She finishes with a shrug, “My mom’s never here, anyway. It’d be, uh, really nice to not be alone all the time ‘cause as much as I love him, Binx doesn’t count.”

His eyes become stormy at that casual admission of loneliness for just a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment before brightening into their natural blue, the same color of the sky on a clear day as he says simply, “Okay.”

“Seriously?” It’s her turn to ask it now and the smile that breaks over her face when he nods is one of unabashed relief; without thinking, she leans closer and presses her forehead to his. “Good.”

He smiles, too, and briefly lets his eyes fall shut at the contact as he jokes, “Just so you know, Flynn, I’m probably not gonna be the best roommate.”

“Please,” She giggles, freeing one of her hands to playfully push at his shoulder, “I live with the most spoiled, demanding cat in the world. I think I can handle you, Maybank.”

The teasing smirk on his face makes her heart beat a little faster. “We’ll see about that.”

Sailor decides to pretend she didn’t hear his loaded comment (she’s not quite ready to open up that particular can of worms just yet), instead pulling her phone from her hoodie pocket to check the time. “Alright, here’s the deal: in one,” -she glances at the time again because holy shit does she have the short-term memory of a fucking chimp- “two hours, we’re going shopping and, hey, don’t give me that look!” She laughs at the pained expression that crosses his face, “If you’re gonna live here, get ready to put in the work.”

JJ offers her a lazy salute with his free hand and she rolls her eyes, trying her best to ignore the butterflies in her stomach as he says coyly (again, damn him!), “Yes, ma’am.”

“Until then, though,” The redhead continues, hopping off the counter to grab his hand and starts pulling him toward the hall to her room, “We have a book to read and you have some Greek to mispronounce.”

“Fuck, you’re bossy.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it.”

It goes like this: for nearly three weeks, life for the pair is pretty damn good. The summer days pass the same as they had been, either spent lazing around with the rest of the pogues or working their variety of jobs -Sailor at the ice cream parlor, along with her weekly shell dives and the beginner surf classes she teaches for The Sandbar, JJ at the country club and doing whatever odd jobs he can find around the island- as June slowly bleeds into July. They find themselves doing everything together: shopping, cooking dinner, sharing her tiny room, and it’s so painfully domestic, so natural and so right that it hurts to wrap her head around it.

If their friends notice, none of them comment on it, even though she sees the looks sent their way whenever they both hop out of Sailor’s truck together (most are curtesy of eagle-eyed Kiara, but Pope and even the ever oblivious John B raise their eyebrows a few times). At night they continue to read through the Percy Jackson series, taking turns reading aloud each evening and for a short, blissful time, they let go of the burdens weighing heavy on their shoulders. For a while, everything is close to perfect.

Typically, predictably, it doesn’t last and when shit finally hits the fan, it happens in epic fashion because nothing is ever easy when they’re involved.

It happens a few days after the Fourth of July. It’s late-afternoon, Hurricane Agatha brewing off the coast causing the clouds to streak faster through the sky and, with the rest of their friends working or otherwise occupied, the two teenagers decide to spend a day lounging at home, getting in a few more chapters of The Battle of the Labyrinth and drinking the beer left over from a night of partying at John B’s house.

“’Jumping out a window five hundred feet above ground is not usually my idea of fun,’“ Sailor reads as she relaxes on the couch, book in one hand and can of PBR in the other, the wind blowing in through the open window ruffling her hair, “‘Especially when I’m wearing bronze wings and flapping my arms like a duck.’“

“I’ll drink to that,” JJ says, briefly lifting his head from her lap to chug the rest of his beer before settling back down, feet propped up on the couch’s arm. They’re both a little buzzed, having lost count of how many drinks they’ve downed but she’s had enough to make her start giggling at his comment as she struggles to keep reading while Binx, fed up with the noise, jumps down from his spot behind her and slinks down the hall to find some peace and quiet.

“Damn you, stop it!” She laughs harder as he pulls a ridiculous face at her pronunciation of Daedalus, then shoots her an impish grin and she responds by ‘accidentally’ dropping the paperback on his face. Both are so caught up in hysterics that they don’t notice the sound of a car pulling into the driveway or a key unlocking the front door.

“Sailor!”

The girl freezes at her name, green eyes widening at the sharp tone of her mother’s voice. Slowly, she turns her head to look over her shoulder where she stands, arms crossed, and she’s so shocked Carmen’s actually looking her in the eye that nothing comes out of her open mouth but an oh so eloquent “huh?”

“What the hell is going on here?” The older woman demands, moving around the couch before either teenager can react, and her eyes narrow when she catches sight of JJ’s head on her daughter’s thigh and the empty beer cans on the end table. “Are you two drunk? Get up, now.”

He hastily does as she asks, eyes downcast to the floor and shaking hands clenched at his sides; ignoring her mother’s glare, Sailor deliberately reaches over and rests one palm on top of his as she says tightly, “Nice to see you home for once, I’m surprised you remembered where it is.”

It’s a low blow and she knows it but she can’t find it in her fuzzy, alcohol-numbed brain to care when Carmen reels back like she’s been slapped before she seems to compose herself, mouth pressing into a thin line. “Sailor Giselle, don’t you dare talk to your mother like that!”

The redhead feels something inside her snap and she glares up at the only parent she has left, all but spitting her next words, “Then start acting like my mother! This is the first time I’ve seen you here in four months!”

“I had to come home after Rachel told me you were shacking up with some boy! Do you have any idea-”

“Rachel?!” Sailor explodes at the mention of their obnoxiously invasive old biddy of a neighbor whose sole mission in life is knowing everyone’s business, “God, that hag just can’t keep her nose out of anything can she?”

Carmen crosses her arms once again and glowers at her daughter. “You know how hard it is for me to be in here, Sailor. I asked her to keep an eye on you for me and I’m glad I did.”

The teenager stares at her in disbelief before barking a loud, humorless laugh. “Let me get this straight: you asked our neighbor to spy on me so you didn’t have to come home...so you didn’t have to actually put in some effort?” Carmen opens her mouth to defend herself but before any words can come out, Sailor continues, throwing her free hand in the air, “You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“This is my house!” Her mother thunders, not noticing the way the silent blond boy flinches at her yell and how her daughter tightens her grip on his hand. “This is my house and I can do whatever I damn well please, including having someone look out for you when I can’t.”

“When you won’t, you mean.” She scoffs, shaking her head in thinly-veiled disgust, “I’m doing just fine on my own, no thanks to you, Mom.”

“Does ‘doing just fine’ mean living alone with this kid?” Carmen spits and when she glances at JJ like he’s gum on the bottom of her shoe, Sailor’s finally had enough and takes a step toward the older woman with a furious glare.

“Will you just let that go? God! He’s my best friend and he needed somewhere to stay, that’s it!”

“I don’t care.” Turning to JJ, she demands coldly, “Go pack your shit and get out.”

“No.” Green eyes hardening into chips of emerald, the redhead grabs his other hand as he goes to leave the room and steps in front of him protectively. “He’s not going anywhere.”

Carmen pinches the bridge of her nose, her voice low as she threatens, “I swear to God, Sailor, either he leaves or I’ll make him leave.”

When she feels his whole body go rigid behind her, she knows her mom’s won this particular battle and before she can even turn to face him he’s disappeared down the hall to her room without a word. Sailor whirls to face her like the wind outside, red hair flying over her shoulder like a whip as she seethes, “How dare you.”

The older woman sighs like she’s the one hurting and crosses to the window before closing it with a firm hand. “Drop it, I’m done arguing.”

“I care about him, Mom, you can’t just kick him out!”

“I said drop it! I don’t give a shit how you feel about him, I’m not having your homeless boyfriend mooching-”

“Jesus Christ -his dad beats the shit out of him!”

The words ring out like a bell, loud and clear and impossible to ignore. Carmen freezes in the middle of picking up a discarded can, tan skin turning pale as she stares, mouth slightly agape, at her daughter; the girl stares back unflinching, and despite her heart’s rapid staccato in her chest, her next words cut like a knife.

“He’s not homeless, okay? But his dad hits him, all the damn time. You’re not gonna stand by and let that happen, are you?”

Her mother’s eyes soften -for a fleeting moment, she looks like her old, caring self again- before they harden to steel, the open expression on her face slamming closed with all the force of a screen door in a hurricane.

“I’m sorry -really, I am- but that’s not my problem.”

Sailor flinches at the icy edge in her voice and looks down at the floor, jaw clenched tight as she tries to blink away the sudden burning behind her eyes. “I...I don’t know you anymore. My mother would never say that.”

She hears Carmen heave another deep sigh as her footsteps slowly head toward the front entry, “You and I have a lot to talk about when I get back from work, Sailor.” She says, followed by the snatching of keys and the door handle turning. “And that boy had better be gone when I do.”

The redhead looks up from her feet, watching the door slam behind her mother’s retreating form before hastily making her way down the hall to her room and like that morning, the wave of relief that she feels when she sees JJ still sitting on her bed, realizing he’s still here, is downright embarrassing but she’s well past the point of caring. In a flash, Sailor’s in his arms, face pressed against his neck as she cries, “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.”

“Sail, you’ve gotta stop apologizing for things you can’t control.” He whispers when she eventually falls silent and she can’t stop the rough laughter bubbling in her chest, even as her whole world feels like it’s falling apart around her.

“Sorry.”

His own laugh is short and low in her ear, and then he’s pulling her closer as his hand draws soothing circles on her back. She lets herself relax for a brief moment, eyelids fluttering closed at his touch, before she takes a deep breath and pulls back to look him in the eye, hands carelessly wiping away the tears on her cheeks, “Help me pack.”

“...what?”

“When she kicked you out, she kicked me out, too.” She says matter-of-factly at JJ’s confused look while she abruptly kneels, pulling her old suitcase from under the bed and heaving it up onto the mattress.

“Okay, so she didn’t actually kick me out but she might as well have!” The redhead strides to her closet and starts picking out her favorite clothes, tossing them haphazardly onto the bed as she fumes, “God, I even told her about your dad -I’m sorry, shit I did it again- and she said she didn’t care! Not to mention she had our neighbor spy-”

“Sail!” She’s so caught up in her rant that she doesn’t notice when JJ moves to stand beside her, and only when he puts his hands on her shoulders does she stop short, a Kildare County High School sweatshirt dangling from her fingers; she can feel him watching her and when she flicks her gaze up to meet his, she’s not at all prepared for the tempest of emotions -admiration, pride, empathy, something else she can’t name- all crashing like the surf behind his eyes.

Blue. Oh so blue. It’s been her favorite color ever since she knew what colors were and she thinks her favorite shade has to be the one she finds in his eyes: bright, clear, and ever easy to drown in if she’s not careful.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” He says it in such a casual way that it’s impossible to think it’s not as intentional as the fingers that slowly tuck a stray curl behind her ear and the thumb that brushes along her flushed cheek.

She just shakes her head with a tiny, bashful smile and her words are an echo of a quiet, rainy night all those weeks ago, “I’m just doing what feels right.”

They fall into an easy rhythm after that, one that helps them both sober up as they fill her suitcase to the brim with everything Sailor thinks she’ll need for a long stay, wherever she ends up. The Chateau makes the most sense of course, but with the DCS breathing down John B’s neck recently, she’s not sure how viable of an option that is but there’s one thing she knows for sure: there’s no way in hell she’s coming back here any time soon. It hurts to leave her shell collection behind -for a brief, dark moment she toys with the idea of tearing the shelf down and smashing them all until they’re turned to dust but she pushes that thought away- so she takes her favorite, the lightning whelk that reminds her of JJ and that day on the beach, and gently tucks it away in her backpack to ease the sting, as a promise to one day return for the rest.

“Jackpot!” JJ exclaims and she looks up to find him on the floor by her chair, pulling up the loose wood board that hides her secret stash of booze and money and reaching in to snag a nearly full bottle of Jack Daniels, holding it above his head with a triumphant smile.

“Shit, I forgot that was even in there,” She replies as she kneels beside him and snatches the whiskey from his hand before he can take a swig, slipping it into her backpack, “Not yet.”

“Oh, come on,” He laughs when she rolls her eyes at his pout and reaches into the dark space to pull out an old plastic lunchbox, along with a small flask that gets thrown in her bag without a second glance. “Boooo.”

“Patience,” She teases, opening the cracked lid to take all of the cash inside and stuffs it into the ziploc bag that doubles as a purse (“it’s cheap and waterproof, what more do I need?” was her argument when Kiara asked her why she didn’t have an actual handbag), which she then stuffs in her backpack. “We can get drunk after we get out of here.”

“You had me at ‘drunk,’“ He slides the floorboard back into place after Sailor tosses the empty lunchbox inside and then stands, pulling her up alongside him with his hand in hers, the other reaching out to grab the handle of her suitcase. “Ready when you are.”

The redhead takes one last look around her room, from the assortment of shells and pictures on one wall to her poster of Bethany Hamilton on the other and everything in between -her sanctuary for the longest time- before turning away from the familiar comfort of the old to face the enticing uncertainty of the new. “Let’s go.”

After a quick stop in the bathroom to grab her shampoo, conditioner, and toothbrush -no way in hell is she gonna share any of those with the boys- then the kitchen to grab some food for Binx and the cat himself from the back of the couch (surprisingly, he doesn’t put up much of a fight), they head outside and throw her suitcase and their backpacks in the bed of the truck along with her surfboard.

“John B’s probably gonna be pissed about the cat,” JJ says, leaning against the passenger door with his arms crossed, smirking as she gives him a flat look and unceremoniously dumps Binx onto the bench seat through the driver’s side window.

“Well, John B’s just gonna -stay, Binxy!- have to get used to it. I’m not leaving him behind.”

Across the street, Rachel perches on her porch as she watches the two teenagers with her beady little eyes and Sailor, feeling particularly defiant, grins wickedly. “J, watch this.” Waving to the woman to catch her attention she calls over the wind, “Hey, Rachel!” before slowly extending both middle fingers toward her, one at a time. “That one’s for my mom and this one’s for you, you nosy bitch!”

He instantly joins in and both hold their hands high, cackling with laughter, until the old crone scowls and slithers back into her house like the snake she is. “Good riddance,” the redhead says, opening the truck’s door and sliding behind the wheel, “Let’s blow this joint.”

“Joint?” JJ asks, climbing into the passenger seat and slamming the door behind him, Binx instantly curling up on his lap, “Did you say joint?”

“You and weed, I swear...” She laughs and goes to start the engine before she realizes she’s grasping at an empty ignition and lets her head fall against the steering wheel with a thunk, “Son of a bitch, I forgot my keys. I’ll be right back.”

Going back inside isn’t as hard as Sailor thought it would be, but leaving is a whole other ball game. She snatches her keys from the bathroom sink where she left them and heads back toward the front door; she’s just passing by their family portrait when it hits her: this is it, the last time in who knows how long she’ll be here. It’s now or never. She thinks of it as a weight on her shoulders, one that’s been dragging her down for far too long, like Atlas holding up the sky, but unlike him, she’s going to break the chains and set herself free.

In one final, sudden burst of years of anger and hurt and frustration, she rips the picture from the hook and smashes it to the floor, sending pieces of glass and wood skittering down the hall before striding from the house and all its memories without a backwards glance, slamming the door behind her with a resolute bang.

Surprisingly, John B doesn’t give a shit about the cat when they show up at the Chateau but he does give a shit about Sailor and her well-being after they give him a quick rundown of the afternoon’s happenings.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Sail?” He asks as he and JJ carry her bags into the house and deposit them in the spare room, the redhead trailing behind with Binx in her arms.

“That’s the age old question, bro,” She deflects with a shrug, taking a seat on the bed and setting the cat down beside her; he instantly takes off to explore his new home as she continues, “Who actually knows if they’re okay? What’s okay to one person can be completely different to another-”

“Sailor, seriously.”

She glances back and forth between the two boys -two sweet, caring boys- watching her with twin looks of understanding and relents. “Look, I’m still kind of...processing everything, alright? I’m not exactly sure what I’m feeling and I don’t know how long it’s gonna take for me to find out but I promise you,” She says softly, looking them both in the eye, “I’ll let you know if I’m not okay. Deal?”

JJ shoots her an enthusiastic thumbs up while John B opts for a simple nod and she grins before pulling the bottle of Jack Daniels from her backpack with a flourish. “Good. Now, I think we could all use a drink.”

The trio (and Binx, house thoroughly explored) bums around the living room while the afternoon slowly turns to evening, the wind outside getting worse with each passing hour the storm moves closer, passing the bottle back and forth until none of them are anywhere close to sober. What started as a game of truth or dare quickly dissolves into straight up truth as they get remarkably philosophical about what animal they’d want to be (an eagle for John B, a wolf for JJ, and to absolutely no one’s surprise, a dolphin for Sailor) and then have a deep, animated discussion about the best Star Wars movie and why it’s The Empire Strikes Back. Later, when the whiskey’s down to a few sips left and their collective demons have retreated to the very back of their minds, JJ drunkenly suggests playing strip poker and both Sailor and John B have to remind him that none of them a.) know how to play poker or b.) even own a deck of cards.

“Damn it!” The sly grin falls from his face when he realizes they’re right and he dejectedly sinks back into the couch, head coming to rest on the redhead’s shoulder. “I wanna see you take your clothes off, Flynn.”

She laughs loudly and grabs the bottle from his hand before taking a big sip and passing it to John B. “You’re gonna have to try harder than that, Maybank.” Whiskey, she found out few months ago, hits her hard: her filter? Gone. Blushing? Aside from the flush in her cheeks from the alcohol, gone. Self-consciousness? As long gone as her father. She’ll flirt her heart out without giving a single shit and it’s both a blessing and a curse, as well as an endless source of secondhand embarrassment in the morning.

“That’s okay, you know I like a challenge.” He declares with a wink, cracking up when she plants her hand directly on his face and pushes him off her shoulder as John B snorts and downs the last of the liquor without either of them noticing.

“Jesus, get a room,” He uses the empty bottle to point down the hall, then sets it on the side table with a hollow thunk as he leans back and stretches his arms above his head. “There’s one right there.”

Sailor gives him a swift kick in the shin with her bare foot for that, plus the shit-eating grin on his face. The trio lounges around for a little while longer, relaxing in a whiskey-induced haze; the redhead finds herself nodding off every so often, slipping back further and further until her head finds a place to rest on JJ’s lap and her legs end up on John B’s. The feel of fingers running through her hair is so feather light that she can barely keep her eyes open and before she knows it, she’s down for the count.

When she wakes some indefinite amount of time later the room is dark, the only light coming from the moon shining through the windows and John B’s gone from his spot by her feet, Binx curled up in a ball on the cushion instead. JJ’s dead asleep, hand stalled in her curls and the sight of his head tipped back against the couch with his mouth slightly open is so damn endearing that she can’t help but smile, even as she reaches a hand up to gently shake his shoulder.

“J, wake up.”

“Five more minutes.” He groans, free hand sluggishly pushing her arm away. Sailor sits up and swivels to face him before shaking him again, giggling quietly at the way his head lolls from side to side.

“Come on, the bed’s way comfier than this.”

Sleepy blue eyes open to give her a heavy look that screams both gratification and longing and so much hope as he quips, “You just want me in your bed again, don’t you?”

She reverently rolls her eyes but reaches to grab his hands anyway and pulls him to his feet, both swaying in place before they find their balance. “And if I do?”

The corner of his mouth rises in a small, adorable smile as his fingers entwine with hers. “I’d say that’s right where I want to be.”

“Well, you’re in luck ‘cause that’s where I want you to be, too.” Still a little bit tipsy, her words are honest, sincere, and as she leads him down the hall, she realizes that old saying is true: drunk words are sober thoughts. After three weeks sharing a home, a room, a bed, she just doesn’t think she can sleep without him anymore and that belief doesn’t quite scare her as much as she thought it would.

Lying wrapped up in his arms in the dark, Sailor finds herself dreaming of a future -as much of a future an impoverished, quasi-homeless, not-quite alright, not-quite-seventeen year old can dream of- with the damaged boy that holds oceans in his eyes.

A few miles away, Carmen Flynn sits on her daughter’s bed with a broken picture frame in her hands as she cries, all alone in an empty house with no idea how to make things okay again.

let me know what you think! also, fun fact: sailor compares her short-term memory to a chimp because studies have shown that chimpanzees are the absolute worst at remembering things, not goldfish as we previously thought (they can remember things for at least five months, compared to chimps who, despite their similarities to humans, forget things in about twenty seconds). sailor, being a zoology nerd, would definitely find that fascinating and make it her mission to educate the masses that goldfish aren’t that stupid jj finds it both adorable and kind of hot

taglist ❤: @sinkbeneathwaves @jiaraendgame @hmsjiara @obxsummer @maysbanks @alexa-playafricabytoto @sunflowerbecca @obxlife @obx-adventures @sexualparkour @coltonparayyko @miawantsapuppy @jjmaybanky @ethereallust

47 notes · View notes

aellynera · 4 years ago

Text

Mr. & Mrs. Cooper (Part 1 - Bud Cooper x Reader)

MR. & MRS. COOPER - PART 1

(okay guys I was really not planning on this being more than one part but it’s gone rogue and gotten a life of its own so, yep. here we are.)

Word Count: 1438

Summary: You’re married to Bud Cooper and your life is a perfectly kept secret...until it isn’t.

Warnings: None for this part. Like a single minor sexy time reference.

Your house w as immaculate. Pristine. It looked like it should be the feature spread in Better Homes & Gardens, maybe even have its own special commemorative issue. The walls were light, the wooden furniture dark, the upholstered sofas stylish. Chrome and metal accents around the semi-open floor plan. Elegant, modern, sophisticated.

Just like you, with your modest yet attractive knee-length, short-sleeve dress. Your low-heel pumps in a matching color, just a shade darker. A string of pearls, a perfectly coiffed updo. Just a touch of mascara and ruby lipstick.

Perfect wife, perfect life.

Just the way your husband liked it, and keeping him happy certainly had its benefits.

That’s what you firmly believed until about an hour ago. That’s when you were cleaning upstairs, straightening out the office. Normally your husband would insist that you didn’t need to clean the office, that he would take care of it, but he had been working so much and such hours that he was often never home until late into the night, and it had finally gotten to the point where you couldn’t stand the clutter and decided he would just have to deal with it. You would make it up to him later, lure him into the bedroom or maybe even let him take you on the kitchen counter (something he had been very much into lately, not that you were complaining.)

You decided to clean the office, and that was that.

Until you knocked over a stack of papers and in the midst of trying to straighten them back up, saw the contract. A puzzled look creased your forehead. You recognized the name at the top. It was impossible not to, everyone in town knew that name even if any decent person never spoke it aloud. But why was this in your husband’s office? It wasn’t an insurance contract. Your husband worked in insurance. This was a contract with a lot of names on it and an absolutely ridiculous amount of dollar signs. Names crossed out in red. Names that you knew had been printed in the obituary section of the newspaper over the past few months. This didn’t make any sense.

Your husband worked in insurance.

You mused that technically, in its own way this could be considered insurance, just of a...morally dubious variety. Then your eyes traveled down the sheet and your mouth dropped open when you saw the last name you expected - your own.

Your husband worked in insurance.

His career had afforded you these finer things in life. Things he told you should want and desire and that you deserved. Things he gave you freely, without hesitation, almost without you having to ask. Almost...too willingly.

Almost like a sweetener. An enticement. Like a lure..

And then it all clicked. All the dominoes fell. You didn’t know if you should be unbecoming, unlady-like, and royally pissed off at your husband...or if you should be suitably impressed. You loved your husband, you truly did, but this wasn’t the way the game was supposed to be played. This was against the rules.

You pursed your lips, carefully folded the paper, and slid it into the pocket on your dress. You finished clearing up the office, careful not to disturb anything else if you didn’t have to, then shut the door behind you when you finished. You paused for a moment at the top of the stairs, smoothed your skirt, and went back down to the kitchen to begin preparing dinner.

Bud Cooper was going to have a hell of a lot to explain when he got home.

*****

Bud Cooper’s office (his actual work office, that is) was immaculate. Pristine. Anyone who came into the brokerage looking for insurance would feel welcome and secure in his office, and more likely than not would be more than inclined to purchase a policy or up their existing limits. He wasn’t technically a salesman, but most people just couldn’t resist.

It wasn’t a huge office, but it did have a sizable window with a nice view of a field and some trees. The walls were light, the wooden furniture a medium brown, the black leather sofa stylish. Chrome clock on the wall and metal accents on the desk. Elegant, modern, sophisticated.

Just like Bud, with his dark suit, crisp white shirt, and coordinating tie. His dress shoes, polished to a perfect reflective shine. His silver watch, a tie pin, a handkerchief folded in his jacket pocket, and his dark, slightly wavy hair slicked back just so. His perfectly groomed mustache and just a hint of stubble on his chin by the end of the day.

Perfect man, perfect plans.

Just the way he knew you liked it, and keeping you happy certainly had its benefits.

That’s what he firmly believed until about an hour ago. That’s when his secretary had brought a package to his desk. She had attached a note explaining the mailman didn’t know what else to do with it; apparently the envelope had gotten wet at some point and the address was washed out, blurry and illegible. The only thing that could be read was the return address which only said “Mrs. B. Cooper”. Must be a new mailman, he thought, or they would have known where your house was to return it properly. So many new people coming and going around the neighborhood these days, he mused.

So this is where the package had ended up and, Bud being Bud, naturally he had opened it. Mostly he was just curious about who you would be sending a package to. Curious...and a little suspicious. That was just part of his nature. He decided that since the package was given to him, he had the right to open it at any rate, and that was that.

Another, smaller envelope fell out as he opened the flap. Once he opened the second envelope, a stack of photographs landed on his desk. A puzzled look creased his forehead. He recognized pictures of the houses surrounding yours, and particularly the one directly across the street and the one catty-corner to the right. It was impossible not to, even if most of the houses looked the same - the porches were decorated differently, and there was no way Bud wasn’t going to recognize that goddamn pink flamingo stuck in the opposite yard. But why was the vantage point from your house? Bud’s hyper-skeptical, hyper-analytical brain could already tell that’s where most of the pictures were taken from, but you didn’t even have a camera. It didn’t make sense. You were a housewife. You weren’t a photographer.

The last few pictures made him pause. His eyes widened slightly and he just flipped through them again. And again. And again. They were of him, leaving the house in the morning, getting in his car with his briefcase. Stopping at the mailbox, retrieving a package. Arriving at a nondescript cinder block building (a building that definitely wasn’t his office) and handing the package to a man in a dark coat. A few of the pictures were close-ups, a few were more observant. All of them had dates and times noted on the back.

Well, shit.

But you were a housewife.

Bud mused that technically, in its own way this could be considered housework, just of a...morally dubious variety. Really, technically, you hadn’t left the house and you were awake at that same time and starting your own workday...

You were a housewife.

Bud had been pleased his career had afforded you these finer things in life. Things he told you should want and desire and that you deserved, because he honestly thought you did. Things he gave you freely, without hesitation, almost without you having to ask. Things you readily accepted, and it made him feel good to give you these tokens of appreciation.

Almost like sweeteners. Enticements. Like payoffs.

And then it all clicked. All the dominoes fell. He didn’t know if he should be righteously outraged at his beloved minx...or if he should be suitably impressed. Bud loved you, he truly did, but this wasn’t the way the game was supposed to be played. This was against the rules.

He pursed his lips, carefully put all the pictures back in both envelopes, and slid package into his briefcase. He glanced at the clock on the wall. He imagined that right now, you were in the kitchen getting ready to prepare dinner. He had about an hour until he was done here for the day.

Mrs. Cooper was going to have a hell of a lot to explain when he got home.

#oscar isaac #oscar isaac character #bud cooper #bud cooper x reader #bud cooper x you #suburbicon #my brain is just spitting things out i can't help it #fanfic

53 notes · View notes

lustinglilac · 5 years ago

Text

Sucker Punch

A/N: So I finally watched Triple Frontier and I loved it! I just had to write for Benny because I cannot get his beautiful blue eyes out of my mind. Enjoy!

Benny accidentally walks in on Pope’s sister after her shower and truly regrets it...

Warnings: none but Benny gets punched in the nose, ouch!

“Tiago, I’m hopping in the shower!” She called out down the corridor to let him know since the bathroom door wouldn’t lock properly.

Why, you may ask? The last time they hosted a dinner at their house, Frank had had a little too much to drink and decided to challenge Will to a strength contest, resulting in two 200 pound men bursting through the door of their only functioning bathroom whilst Ben was inside taking a piss.

Now, every time the siblings had to shower or use it in any way, they’d have to make an announcement beforehand.

“Okay, the guys’ll be here in a few so hurry up.” Pope shouted back, making her roll her eyes and attempt to shower as quickly as she could.

She stripped off her clothes and admired the pretty white polish on her toenails as the water heated up to the right temperature before stepping in.

The warm water cascaded down her body as she lathered her hair with shampoo, hearing the front door to their apartment slam shut moments later signaling that the guys had arrived for yet another boys night.

Letting the conditioner soak into her ends, she grabbed her razor and shaved some of the light stubble on her legs, leaving them as smooth as ever before washing her body last.

In the living room, the guys were hollering to one another about who’s got the best aim and what not, Pope completely forgetting to announce to his guests that the bathroom was off limits until his sister had finished showering. Drinks were starting to flow and conversation was at an all time high as the men slowly but surely were on the edge of getting shitfaced yet again.

She let the water run for a little longer until she decided she was clean enough, shutting it off completely and sliding the glass door open to grab her towel.

“Man, I gotta piss.” Ben whispered to himself as he stood from the couch on shaky legs, knowing exactly where the bathroom was. His legs leading him straight to the door, not feeling the need to knock as he figured who the hell would be in there right?

Wrong.

Her back was turned to the door as she wrapped the towel securely under her arms, feeling someone’s presence behind her. A shrill scream pierced the air, “What the fuck?!” She landed a punch blindly, her fist connecting to the stranger’s nose.

He clutched his nose, groaning in pain, just as the younger woman realized who it was.

“Oh my god, Ben! What the hell are you doing in here?!” She yelled as she tried to hold tighter onto the towel just as her brother and his friends came running down the hallway.

“Holy fuck Pope, your sister just broke my fuckin’ nose! Jesus!” Ben spoke through his hands as he kept his head tilted forward.

“I’m so sorry!” She apologized, eyes widened in horror as the younger man in front of her tried to keep his balance.

Frank could barely keep it together as he clutched onto his stomach, “You got your nose broken— by a girl!” He howled as Ben blindly tried to reach for him.

“Get me some ice or somethin’ fuck!” Ben yelled at his own brother who had tears in his eyes from laughing so freaking hard.

“Get out of the bathroom, come on.” Pope led him out of the bathroom as he realized he’d forgotten to tell his friends that it was occupied.

“That was too fucking good, oh man. She’s a fucking badass, you taught her well Pope.” Frank clapped Pope on the shoulder as the four of them walked away, recovering from what had just happened.

“I should’ve mentioned she was in there, I completely forgot.” Pope explained to his friends once the laughter had died down but his sister was fuming as she’d never been more embarrassed in her life.

Opening the door slightly, she stuck her head out just enough so that her brother would hear her, “Tiago, I’m going to murder you.” She called out to him in the calmest voice possible, huffing as she put on her bra and panties. Frank roared with laughter at her comment once again as Santiago rolled his eyes, giving Ben a bag of frozen peas to hold to his nose.

“I’ve taken hits before but that one— fuck. That one rattled my fuckin’ brain.” Ben breathed out as he clutched onto the bag of peas.

“Quick! What’s your name? What year is it? Who’s the president?” Will snorted a laugh as Ben glared daggers at him but really, he couldn’t look intimidating if he tried in this situation considering his nose was swelling and he was on the verge of sounding like a nasally cartoon character.

In the bathroom still, she’d finished drying her hair, making it look decent before putting on her leggings and an oversized hoodie, slipping her feet into her tan mocassins and finally opening the bathroom door with a huff. She stomped down the hallway and into the kitchen where the men had gathered around the island.

“There she is!” Frank enveloped her into a hug, kissing the top of her head as she couldn’t help but laugh at the scene in front of her.

“You know, Benny, if you wanted to see me naked, you could’ve just asked.” She stated matter-of-factly as she inspected the damage she had done to his nose.

Frank erupted into laughter once again, “Holy shit! I didn’t know you had it in you!”

Santiago groans, “Really?!”, covering his ears because he could not believe his little sister just said that out loud to one of his best friends.

“I didn’t want to— just forget it. It hurts to even talk to you losers.” Ben rolled his eyes as a blush crept up his neck.

“I’m kidding.” She giggles at his attempt to explain himself.

“You pack a mean punch, Garcia.” Will winks at her. She blushes sheepishly, looking down at her own knuckle which had become pretty red since the incident. She decided she would ice her hand later considering it wasn’t nearly as bad as Ben’s nose.

“Maybe we should fix the handle, ya know, since we did break it.” Frank rubbed the back of his neck, nudging Will with his elbow.

“I’ll go get the tools.” Pope huffed. May as well since they had nothing better to do, figuring it would only be fair judging by the situation that took place minutes ago. Both of them followed her brother into the storage closet where he kept his tool box.

“Are you okay?” She looks up into his piercing blue eyes as he put the bag of peas down that had become warm by now.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” He grins, his eyes catching sight of her bruised knuckle, absentmindedly reaching for it.

“Does it hurt?” He questions her, eagerly taking her soft palm into his larger, calloused one.

“Nah. I’ll be okay.” She smiles softly and feels him run his thumb across the back of her hand, soothing the skin around it.

“I’ll admit, that was fuckin’ badass.” He whispered, eyebrows raising, chuckling sheepishly as she let out a laugh, throwing her head back.

“Benny! Stop flirting with my sister!” Pope’s voice called from around the corner, she rolled her eyes at the sound of her brother’s voice as he let go of her hand abruptly.

“Sorry!” He called back shyly, having been caught, as they stood in the kitchen together, a comfortable silence falling upon them.

This for sure became one of their favorite running jokes from that night on and Will’s favorite thing to tease Benny about, despite Pope’s distaste.

#benny miller #benny miller x reader #triple frontier #garrett hedlund #benny miller imagine #ben miller #triple frontier imagine

114 notes · View notes

lo-55 · 4 years ago

Text

Shattered Chains of Fate Ch. 15

A Lifting Fog

Ichigo sat patiently on the cot while Unohana poked and prodded him. He didn’t have a lot of injuries left. Mostly scrapes and bruises, but she was taking a very close look at his eyes, balance, and short term memory. .

Apparently laughing hysterically at the murder of 46 people was a sign of head trauma.

“You don’t seem to have any lasting damage,” she finally concluded. “Most of the injuries you sustained earlier have already healed.”

“That’s Hanataro,” Ichigo says with a smile. It fell quickly. “I mean, uh. I threatened him into helping me. He’s very talented.”

Unohana looked faintly amused under her serenity. “Of course you did. I’m sure you held your zanpakuto so close to his throat he couldn’t even use his shinten to knock you unconscious.”

Ichigo nodded solemnly. “Oh, yeah. Definitely. But anyways, I’m fine. Is Rukia doing better? She was really wiped out…”

“Both of Kuchiki’s are fine. I believe they’ve had a long overdue discussion, actually. That technique you used when she was fighting was certainly… unique. Who taught it to you?”

Ichigo considered his answers before he decided to tell her the truth. They were allies for now.

“I made it up on the spot.”

“You made it up one the spot.” She repeated. One eyebrow arched high. She looked young, but when she’d healed the last of his bad injuries up earlier he’d felt the dangerous undercurrent of her power. She was at least as old as Yamamoto. It was only a shiver of fear at the idea of calling her old that kept him from asking her the same question he’d asked him. “You really are a very unique person, aren’t you?”

“It’s not that impressive,” Ichigo argued. He could feel his face turning red. “I did something similar as a human. I just pushed my energy into her. Although, as a human I could kinda heal with it…”

“Yes, that’s similar to how healing kido works,” she mused. “ Kaido is a method we use to insert our own energy inside of the body and manipulate the spirit particles, the reishi, that make up the body of the patient so we can put them back together again.”

“That makes sense,” Ichigo taps his fingers on his leg idly. His brows furrowed. With his mystic codes he’d been able to heal grievous wounds and keep people fighting, but he’d never been very good at doing it without. He could make due, he had with Uryu, but that was just jumping his natural healing into overdrive.

Ichigo looked up at her. “I get that I was your enemy not that long ago,” began the boy, “But is there a way for me to learn to heal while I’m here?”

Unohana looked surprised. “You want to heal? I was under the impression that your expertise was in combat.”

“It is,” Ichigo said honestly. “Orihime is a good healer, better than almost anyone I’ve ever seen. But we got seperated here. If it wasn’t for Hanataro, I might have been seriously screwed. Or I might have been fine, but Ganju could have been hurt. A lot of people could have been hurt. And what I can do is very basic. Humans have to study for years to be able to-”

“Yes,” she stepped in, holding up a hand to cut off his rampant justification. Ichigo couldn't help noticing the callouses on her palms and fingers. She was a fighter. She also smiled at him. “ I can teach you.”

Ichigo offered her a half of a grin. “Just so you know, I suck at spellwork.”

“I’m sure we can make due. Now, I’m going to clear you. Please behave while you’re in my division.”

Her smile turned tight at the edges and her eyes narrowed minutely. Fear shot striaght down his spine.

“Y-yes ma-am!” He said quickly. He made his escape quickly. He still wanted to see Rukia, and find out what her and her brother had been talking about. Of all the people to try to step in and protect them he could scarcely believe it was Byakuya. Maybe he’d misjudged him?

Or more likely he’d smacked some sense into him.

Typical.

Ichigo was just trying to figure out how to navigate his way out when he stumbled into someone. Which was weird, because he should have really felt them coming.

Pink kimono, straw had, wavy brown hair.

“Oh. Kyoraku, hey,” Ichigo waved at him.

The man smiled at him. He’d barely had any malice to him the last time they’d met, and now any he’d had ever is vanished behind a kind smile. His assistant, Nanao if Ichigo remembered right, was missing for once.

“Ichigo. It’s good to see you again.”

“You too,” Ichigo nodded to him. “What are you doing here? You didn’t get too banged up, did you?” He’d been worried. Those two had spirited away a man born before the human era, one who Ichigo had been informed was the strongest person in the Seireitei.

Ichigo had picked a fight with the strongest person in the entire dimension. And then started lecturing him on his morality.

That... sounds right.

“Just a few bruises,” Kyoraku clapped him on the shoulder and forcefully guided him down the hallway. “I’m here visiting Juushiro. Come along.”

It really wasn’t a question. Ichigo shot him a glower.

“I’m not a dog, you know.”

“Really? You look a little mangy…”

Ichigo elbowed him in the ribs. “Fuck you. Speaking of dogs, is that one guy okay? The werewolf.”

“Werewolf? You mean Komamura? He was in nasty shape, but he’ll recover. He’s a few doors down if you want to introduce yourself properly.”

“...Nah. I don’t think I should. He seemed pretty torn up about the whole betrayal thing and I was kinda just an enemy. It doesn’t really, I guess, feel right?” He struggled to find the right words. Even if he wasn’t the most eloquent, Kyoraku nodded along with him sympathetically.

“Anyways. You said you were here visiting Juushiro, like Ukitake? What happened? You don’t look charred around the edges.” Ichigo gave him a critical once over.

Kyoraku snickered at him and they entered a room. A private hospital room, where Ukitake was sitting up in the bed. Ichigo hadn’t noticed before, he’d been too busy assessing the man’s energy and fighting for his life and Rukia’s, but Ukitake was actually very thin. His wrist bones were too prominent, his cheeks were too thin, and with the low drop the hospital provided robes he could see his collar bones starkly.

If he was this strong sick, how strong would he be normally?

If ‘Ukitake notices Ichigo’s critical once over, he says nothing about it. Only smiles when they get closer.

“Well this is certainly a surprise. Kurosaki, it’s good to see you.”

“Just Ichigo is fine,” he waves his hand. “You helped me after all, and none of my friends call me by my last name.”

“Friends,” Ukitake repeats. His green eyes gentled. “Why don’t you sit for a while with us then. We were just visiting today.”

Ichigo doesn’t know what to do with the way they’re both looking at him. It’s friendly and kind but there’s something else there. Like they’re trying to see where his sharp edges are and where he folds and what will make him change his mind.

To be fair, they’d been enemies before.

Ichigo pulls up a chair and flips it around so he can straddle it and cross his arms over the back.

“How are you, Ichigo? We heard you didn’t very torn up during your confrontation with Aizen.”

“I’m fine. He had me locked in a kido for most of the fight. The worst things I had were some burns from where I broke out of it. Unohana took care of it for me. She’s… nice. Terrifying, but nice.”

“You asked about Ereshkigal before,” Ukitake pointed out. “Why did you-”

Whatever else he was going to say was cut off by a rough coughing fit. Ichigo lurched for him immediately, with Kyoraku only twitching forwards before grabbing the water off the bedside table.

They waited for the coughing to slow down, a full minute later, before Kyoraku gave him the glass. Ichigo was frowning at him.

“Are you okay?” He asked, once he was done with the water. Ukitake nods and smiles crookedly.

“It’s been a frequent occurrence for most of my life, I’m afraid. Even Unohana can’t do anything about it. It’ll go away in a few days, I’m sure.”

Ichigo frowns at him, but nods all the same. A chronic cough could be about a billion things. If it started as a kid that might mean less. Honestly Ichigo is trained for field medicine. Emergencies and stopping bleeding. This kind of thing is beyond him.

Still, he grew up next to a family clinic.

“Have you ever tried human medicine?” he asks. Ukitake looks surprised, but shakes his head the negative.

“No. I can’t say I have. As I understand it isn’t always very effective.”

“Maybe not a couple hundred years ago,” he admits, thinking of battlefields and field hospitals, and how hard Nightingale had had to work to get people to wash their damn hands. “But it’s come a long way recently. Maybe you should give it a try? My dad and Uryu’s both run medical facilities.”

Ukitake eyes him for a long moment, the mention of his father catching his attention. Finally, he nods.

“I may look into that. Thank you.”

The conversation moves on, Ereshkigal forgotten under the feeling that Ichigo had just fucked himself somehow.

* *

Ichigo opened his eyes to grey skies and an amalgamated landscape.

Zangetsu and Nieve were leaning over him, one of them clearly irritated and the other just as calm looking as ever.

“Uh. Hi?”

“It’s about damn time!” Nieve barked at him. Ichigo sat up, slowly, and then stood. It still felt weird to be standing up on the side of a building like this. It was completely unnatural.

“Time for what? I’ve been busy, and I can’t just pop in here whenever I want you know. In case you missed it I’m still in potential enemy territory. I keep expecting to be arrested, whether they say I saved them from something or not. Which, again, I really didn’t. I didn’t even help them unearth that coup! It’s fucking stupid.”

“Are ya done yet?” Nieve asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

“... Not even remotely, but go ahead.”

“Good. We’re bored in here and you’re an emotional disaster-”

“Hey!”

“-in the making. Just look at the sky!”

Ichigo did. It was grey, and cloudy this time.

“What does the weather have to do with anything?”

“The weather,” Zangetsu said in his deep, smooth voice, “is a reflection of you, as all things here are. It reflects your emotions. When you’re sad, it rains here.”

“And ya are sad,” Nieve poked in.

Ichigo scowled at the both of them. “Yeah so what if I am? I just found out one of my friends is now an enemy, a traitor, and I don’t even know what else right now! I lost my chance to talk to him because I hesitated, and now he’s gone full megalomaniac and he’s going to go overthrow the king.”

He paused.

“Not that I’m against that part. But I like some of these shinigami. I don’t want to see them go to war with him over a king that doesn’t give a rats left tit about any of them.”

“Next time you shouldn’t hesitate,” Zangetsu said wisely. Ichigo nearly hit him.

“What next time?! How many friends do you think I have that forgot we knew each other two hundred years ago in a timeline that’s been erased because it was the end of the world?!”

“At least three,” nieve said without missing a beat. “Maybe four.”

“Okay you know what,” Ichigo pointed at him. “I’ve decided, I don’t like you.”

“No shit? I wonder why,” he rolled his yellow eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean, huh?” Ichigo barked. It felt good though, to speak so openly with people who already knew everything about him. How messed up was it that his best conversation basically happened with himself? He stalked toward nieve, “How did you even get here, huh? I was too busy to care before but I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to have a hollow in my head. That is what you are, isn’t it?”

Nieve froze for just a second, like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He collected himself a second later with a loud scoff and a laugh in Ichigo’s face.

“If you wanna know so bad, maybe you should ask that shop keeper. He seems to be tied up in everything else bullshit in your life.”

“Okay. So maybe he is. I’m not asking him.” Ichigo stalked forwards, effectively cornering a piece of himself against a part of a sky scraper. “I’m asking you. You were pissed that I wasn’t listening to you before. Well I’m listening now, aren’t I?”

“I-” Nieve looked over Ichigo’s shoulder at Zangetsu. “I can’t tell ya, partner.”

“Can’t, or won’t?”

“Can’t!” He snapped, glaring over Ichigo’s shoulder.

When Ichigo looked over it, Zangetsu was gone, and when he looked back Nieve was too.

* * *

Ichigo was getting really, really sick of running for his life. Shoudln’t the return home have been easier than the journey to get there?

It wasn’t, and the only thing that saved the five of them from tipping headfirst onto concrete was a timely save from Urahara.

Who apparently had a flying carpet.

Because why not.

He’s not even surprised anymore.

He catches the look in Urahara’s eyes when the man starts to turn around, but Ichigo catches his shoulder before he can do whatever he was planning on doing.

“You know where everyone lives, right?” he asks, perhaps a touch too quickly. “Once everyone’s been dropped off, I wanna talk to you.”

The others are silent. Urahara regards him from under the shadow of his hat before agreeing quietly.

Ichigo bids fond farewell to his friends and sort-of-cousin before their ride takes them back to the little shop that Urahara runs. They touch down in front and walk inside, with the blond in the lead. As soon as they are inside everyone else, even Yoruichi, makes themselves scarce.

Urahara takes Ichigo into one of the back rooms before he sweeps his hat off his head and kneels on the ground before him.

It makes Ichigo's stomach twist in discomfort.

“I know by now you heard about me. I’m really, very sorry.” It’s the most genuine the man has ever sounded to Ichigo’s ears. Some of the last threads of anger melt away.

He drops to one knee in front of Urahara and knocks his head lightly with his knuckles.

“Cut that out. I’m barely even mad at you, you know.” Now that he’s had a few days to cool his temper.

“You should be,” Urahara looked up at him, his grey eyes searching and weary.

Ichigo shrugged. “I don’t really hold grudges. If anything, you should apologize to Rukia for putting her in harms way. You were trying to do the right thing, weren’t you? And the reason you didn’t tell me anything… It was because you thought I’d run off, wasn’t it?”

“That’s right. Can you honestly tell you wouldn’t have?”

“Yeah,” Ichigo stood up. “I can. If nothing else I would have still needed you to get that gate open. And I don’t run so easy, even from shady shop keepers. Now,” He offered Urahara a hand. “If you’re really that contrite you can make it up to me.”

Urahara eyed his hand before he took it and let Ichigo pull him to his feet. His hat found its rightful home.

“And would that entail, exactly?”

“Two things,” Ichigo held up two fingers. “One; next time you need my help for something, just tell me outright what’s going on. And two; I have two questions that I’d like the absolute truth to.”

“That seems fair. What’s the question?”

“In october, 1888, did you go to the human world?”

Urahara fell silent. He stared at Ichigo for a long, hard minute before he nodded once. “I did.”

Ichigo thought as much.

“Is that when you discovered your Hogyoku?”

Urahara looked like he’d been slapped with a living lobster.

“How could you possibly know that?” he asked, stepping right into Ichigo’s space. “I told everyone that I created it. Did Aizen-”

“He didn’t tell me,” Ichigo planted his hand on Urahara’s chest to keep him from coming in closer. “There were things happening in 1888 in the human world. Things that Chaldea was involved in.”

He hesitated.

“Things that I was involved in.”

Ichigo could see the gears turning in Urahara’s head. He was too smart for his own good.

“That’s impossible. Humans don’t live that long. You were only born a couple of decades ago.”

“Nothing is ever impossible,” Ichigo said frankly.

Urahara’s eyes narrowed minutely. “This has something to do with those friends of your Kon found, doesn’t it?”

Now it was Ichigo’s turn to stare at him. “Huh?”

Urahara changed on a dime. He snapped his fan open over his mouth and shadowed his eyes under his hat. “So you’re not omnipotent. I was worried for a minute there Ichigo!”

“Wouldn’t it be omnipresent? Or omniscient?” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. What were you talking about? What friends?”

“Not until you tell me how you knew about 1888. Everyone else I’ve ever told anything about the Hogyoku to I’ve always said I created it. Not discovered it. So it’s only fair for you to tell me,” he sang.

Ichigo scowled at him. “Would you cut that shit out? You’re so weird. Whatever, I’ll find out on my own.”

“Ichigo-”

“I’ll see you around, Kisuke.”

Ichigo gave his chest a light shove to get past him. Urahara didn’t try to stop him, for which he was grateful. He had too much on his mind. Was he really about to tell a guy he knew had played him like a fiddle once already a truth he’d never admitted to anyone who hadn’t been there with him?

Fuck, what was wrong with him?

He fled the shoten and made his way home under the pale light of the moon. When he carefully stepped through the front door (a trick he would never get used to ) he froze entirely.

In the living room, sleeping on the couch and up against a chair respectively, were two people he thought he’d never see again.

Medusa and Cu Chulainn.

He sprinted up the stairs as fast as he could move and without even a how-do-you-do to Kon he launched the mod soul out of his body and shoved himself inside of it. He left Kon sitting on his pillow before he bolted back down the stairs on light feet and skidded into the living room.

It was still enough noise and movement to have both of the legends up on their feet.

He stood there for a long beat, out of breath, eyes wild and bright.

“Ichigo?” Cu asked, slowly standing. They were both dressed like normal people. “Is that..?”

“It’s him,” was all Medusa said before decking him in the face.

Ichigo stumbled back but didn’t fall. He looked between the two of them. It was hard to see, his eyes were all blurry. How weird.

“You fool. You went rushing into danger without us,” she hissed. Her hair moved restlessly but he knew it was worry more than anger.

“Sorry, Medusa. I didn’t know you would be here. I still don’t. How are you here?” He searched her face. He touched his jaw. “I know I didn’t summon you.”

Cu touched his hand and turned it over so he could the red wings spread across the back of it. Command seals.

“You’re little friend did, using your body for it. We are yours again, master,” Cu said quietly. He didn’t move away when Ichigo’s head fell against his shoulders and when Ichigo’s hands started shaking Medusa’s arm draped over his shoulders.

“How?” He asked quietly. “Chealdeas and the grails supported eighty percent of your mana consumption. I thought there was no way anyone could support a servant outside of Grail Wars.”

“Ichigo,” Cu sounded amused. “How many of us did you have in Chealdeas?”

“Huh? I don’t know. Forty, fifty total?” He hadn’t been close with all of them, but there had been plenty of them.

“Right. So twenty percent of thirty servants equals the full upkeep of at least eight servants. Ichigo. You could have had us with you the entire time.”

Ichigo choked.

He’d been swallowing grief for so long, and he’d never had to.

Nimble fingers pulled through his bright hair.

“We’re here now. And there’s one more waiting for you. Kon didn’t have the fine control to summon someone so rawly powerful. But you do.”

“Tomorrow,” Medusa said firmly. “Tomorrow you can summon him, and tell us about your newest adventure. And,” her hair hissed with her, “You will take us with you on whatever your next one is.”

“Can I even do that? What I’m doing now is basically what Kyo was doing in North America. I know you have spirit forms, but that’s different from human souls. That’s-”

“I’ve never known you to think too much,” Cu mused. “You’re a creature of instinct, aren’t you? Rest. We’ll work it out.”

Ichigo still had questions, but he was such an emotional wreck he didn’t have it in him to fight when the pair bullied him up the stairs and into his old room. The bed was too soft.

The three of them camped out on the floor.

* * * *

Ichigo found, much to his amazement and amusement, that Medusa had basically adopted his sisters while he was gone.

She and Cu had told Isshin that they were Ichigo’s friends from Chaldeas and he’d agreed (much too easily) to let them stay in the livingroom while they were looking for a place to stay. Medusa explained that they’d been guarding his body for him as well.

The entire morning Ichigo felt warm and almost bubbling with excitement. He helped Karin with the table while Medusa and Yuzu puttered around the kitchen and Cu fed birds on the back porch.

It was the most surreal day of his entire life.

The trio left after breakfast and made their way towards Ichigo’s house. Once they were far enough to be overheard, Ichigo started to talk.

“Okay, so how do you expect to help me with what I’m doing now?”

“Well. You know that all heroic spirits have a physical form and a spirit form, yes?”

“Yeah. And that your spirit form isn’t the same as being an actual spirit, since your souls aren’t bound the way regular ones are. Instead of being a part of the cycle of reincarnation or the World, or even the time axis you’re connected to the Throne of heroes, and you manifest through a thaumaturgical anchor. In this case, me.”

“Yes. And it’s because you are our anchor that we’ll be able to do this. Any normal humans we would only be able to interact with them the way a regular human would,” Cu said cheerfully. “You leak power like a broken pipe. You always have. When we were in North America your influence started to take hold. You engraved a part of yourself on our souls, Ichigo. We can see the dead, we can interact with them.”

“We’re supposed to forget,” Medusa said suddenly. “We’re supposed to forget the events of Grail Wars we’re summoned to when we go back to the Throne. But you. You we remember. We all remember. You’re really something, Master.”

“Stop calling me that,” he said automatically, even while his mind turned over the information. He admitted to them. “I never knew I’d be fighting ghosts. I never thought anything like this would happen.”

“I doubt even that trouble maker Merlin could foresee this,” Cu laughed at him. Ichigo elbows his side.

“Quiet you.”

“Am I wrong?”

“... not even remotely. But he gave me back the two of your so I feel like I should be a little nicer to him than normal.”

Cu laughed at him again.

It was interesting, seeing the two of them outside of a war zone and outside of Chaldeas Cu was relaxed in a hawaiian shirt, with his silver earrings glinting in the mid-morning sunlight. Medusa looked smart in a black turtleneck with her hair braided back tightly.

The three made quite a sight.

They were about to make an even weirder one.

Ichigo let them into his house and headed for the basement, flanked on either side. He touched up the magic circle and gathered up two stones in the middle. One grey, one red.

“Is this a piece of your spear?” Ichigo asked, holding it up to Cu.

“A piece of an earring, actually.”

Ichigo’s fingers ran over the rune engraved in it.

“So it is. And this is a piece of your artwork right?” He held the grey stone up to Medusa, who smiled and nodded. That was morbid. Ichigo went to the cardboard box sitting on the table. The one he’d abandoned in his internal crisis. If he’d just opened his damn mail he could have taken Seireitei without any trouble at all.

“If I switch to my own spirit form, will you still be able to draw on my power?”

Cu hummed. “Normally I would say no. In your case? Probably.”

“Lucky me,” Ichigo said. For once he actually meant it.

He pulled out a soft orange scarf. It was tattered and torn, and utterly ancient. Over 3000 years old.

Ichigo laid it down delicately in the middle of the circle and stepped back. Medusa handed him a knife. He cut his palm across an old scar and stepped to the edge of the circle where he held his fist out and over the chalk circle. Blue light crawled across the floor and raced along the edges where it crackled and sparked.

“Let silver and steel be the essence. Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation. Fill, fill, fill, fill, fill. Repeat five times and after each is filled, destroy it,” The blue light turned red and lashed upwards.

“I shall become all the goodness of the heaven’s. I shall embody all evils of hell. My will creates your body, and your sword cleaves my destiny. If you obey this will and reason, heed my call! Let shut the four cardinal gates and open the three-forked road winding to the Root. Appear now, thou Guardian of the Scales.”

Romani had told him once that each war used a different summoning chant in their rituals. Participants and factions tailored their to specific desires, ancestors, and faction colors in some cases. Ichigo’s was an amalgamation of a half a dozen.

It worked. Ichigo could feel the energy of life swelling up under his skin and filling his magic circuits as he drew it out of the planet and into himself. He was a conduit. The mana of the world rolled through his veins.

He poured it through the circle, filling it until the limits were fit to burst. His blood sang with power.

The light grew, rolling over and over until it was too bright to see beyond it.

Ichigo felt the world give way and shift as the atmosphere made room for someone new. Someone powerful.

“I ask you,” came a familiar voice, “Are you my master?”

“I ask you; stop calling me that already.”

The light parted light a curtain and Ichigo found himself yanked into a sudden, strong embrace. Powerful hands clapped his back firmly.

“I thought I heard your voice!”

“You said you would come whenever I called. No matter where or-”

“When, I remember. I do keep my promises when I’m able to, master.”

“I swear to god,” Ichigo smacked him and shoved the servant away. Green hair, tanned skin.

Achilles grinned down at him.

* * * * *

Before Kyo, before America, before the dark circle was printed on Ichigo’s chest, he stood in a city bathed in fog.

It was thick and filled with the scent of sorrow.

From the second they landed they were in a fight. Dolls, a strange girl in armor, and homunculi. It was after the last one that Ichigo finally decided they needed to find a base of operations.

Ichigo touched Mash’s shoulder gently. “Let’s get a move on.”

There was something bothering her. She wouldn’t say what. She blamed it on the environment, but Ichigo had known her too long to buy into that.

They get blitzed by a servant before they can find a safe place to hunker down, but just as soon as the fight is over Ichigo forgets what they look like. Mash and Romani are the same. It��s a frightening power. How can they fight someone if they can’t remember anything about them as soon as they’re gone from sight?

They need back up. They need to find a Ley Line so he can summon Cu and Medusa to help them.

Help comes in the form of a brash spitfire of a blonde in knights armor. The same strange girl they’d met earlier.

Her name is Mordred, a knight of the round table. She has a safehouse, and a doctor.

There’s something about Jekyll that makes Ichigo’s skin prickle. He’s a sweet faced young man, with kind green eyes, but there’s something dangerous about him.

Ichigo peers out the window while he gently chides Mordred for revealing her name. The streets are full of ghosts here, that walk uninhibited and forlorn in the mists.

There’s a lot of blondes in this city.

* * * * * *

#bleach fanfiction #Ichigo Kurosaki #BAMF!Ichigo Kurosaki #Ichigo Kurosaki is Ritsuka Fujimaru #mash kyrielight #jack the ripper #urahara kisuke #medusa fate grand order #cu chulainn #Achilles #Achilles Fate #Zangetsu #yoruichi shihouin #hollow ichigo

8 notes · View notes