#unfortunately it was jesus's stab wound. ah well

[spitblaze]

For a moment I lived in a world where Christianity doesn’t exist and saw cool art of a big bleeding scar under a guy's pectoral and was like 'woah cool transmasc art'

[rosewine-5]

Baby Come Over

Wolverine/Logan Howlett x black fem reader

gif made by blursbian

Summary: Wade is hellbent of getting you to meet his new roommate, but what is his motive? (Note: I am not the best writer, but I had motivation, and the title is definitely not taken from Virgo’s Groove)

Warning: drunken asshole, Wade Wilson, cursing, unprotected piv smut (wrap it before you tap it) fingering, riding, soft!dom Logan MDNI 18+

Word Count: 4.2

-

Wade encouraged you to meet the new man in his life, not knowing if it was a new friend, a boyfriend, or someone he wanted to pursue romantically. Knowing him, it was probably both, but you agreed anyway. "Come on, sugar. I'm a vigilante, you're a fine-as-wine vigilante, and he's an old but good-looking mutant who needs some TLC— he'll love you immediately," Wade insisted, bringing it up again as you two talked over a late dinner while sitting on his couch.

Wade, I have to work all next week," you said, trying to get out of it. "Yeah, bartending is so hard. When was the last time you got laid? The pink vibrator doesn't count," he added for extra measure, almost making you slap him. "None of your business. Besides, I don't ask about your business even though we, unfortunately, share a wall. And why did you go through my drawer?!”

“My point being said, he needs friends, you need a new one, and if you won’t be with him I will! And besides, I'm Marvel Jesus, there's nothing I can’t do!” Wade insisted, emphasizing his statement with his hands and ignoring your question.

You knew better than to argue with him because he could go on for hours, so you agreed. You had pulled your braids into a ponytail and walked next door, where you saw the small get-together Wade had arranged. “Sweetie! You made it!” he cheered, answering the door, and dragging you in. He put you in front of him as he walked you to the back of the apartment, where Logan wasn’t facing you.

“He’s a bit grumpy today, but I’ll talk to him. Hey, three-pronged wolf!” Wade said, trying to get his attention.

He got it all right.

Before you could even introduce yourself you felt something pierce your arm, three things. You were met with the face of a man who looked like he was ready to knock someone out, it was Logan. His face quickly changed when he realized he hadn’t stabbed Wade, and immediately tried to cover the wound he made. “Ah, shit!” He cursed, looking you in the eyes.

“Now this is not how we greet potential lovers, gramps! Shame on you.” Wade scolded playfully, looking between you and Logan. “Well that’s a good icebreaker, or skin breaker I should say.” He said, looking at your already healing skin.

“Well, Logan, this is my best friend, she heals like us, curses like me. Sugar, this is Logan, the old good-looking man you should kiss for helping save the timeline. Do not fuck on my bed, and I don’t babysit.” He said, patting your cheek before walking away. You watched him leave and then leaned on the wall.

“Hell of an introduction, neighbor,” You said, trying to start a conversation. He didn’t respond but kept looking over your features as you did the same. Wade hit one thing on the mark: He was fine as hell. “How long have you known him?” Logan asked. “Ehhh, a couple of months, he’s good people, but he can be annoying as fuck some.” You said, that you two agreed.

It turns out that you both had something in common, besides the healing factor. Both of you were no strangers to drinks, and pain was a familiar feeling for both of you.

And that was how the foundation of the friendship was built. You didn’t talk much, mostly just passing each other in the hallway, a short greeting when you left for work and coming back home. That was until he found the bar you worked in. It was 5 minutes before closing, and you heard the man sit down. “What’ll it be buddy?” You asked, still wiping down the table with your back towards him.

“Whatever’s left.” Logan’s voice said, cutting through the faint sound of Sade’s voice coming through the jukebox. Your head snapped around at the familiar tone of the voice. “Wade mentioned you worked in a bar, been wondering which one it was,” Logan said, sitting down at the bar. “You didn’t think to look at the closest bar which is only a 15-minute walk from here?” You asked, leaning on the bar, a laugh leaving your lips.

He reached over, grabbed a bottle of beer, and shrugged, “Good point.” He said while taking a drink, a long one. “Let me guess. Roommate annoyance?” You asked, seeing him set down the bottle, and bringing him another one. “Yep. He made me leave the place today.” Logan explained. “Any reason for him kicking you out?” You joked, meeting his ever-so-serious eyes.

“He said either I try and make friends, or he walks around naked until I leave.” He said, almost making you cringe, “No one wants to see that.” Logan let out a short hum, before downing the beer before putting it down. As

You reached for the bottle your hand brushed his, and your eyes met in an awkward look. “Sorry-.” “My bad.” You both said at the same time. Logan then held your hand, moving it completely taking it off the bottle, and set it down behind the bar for you with his other hand.

“There. Less confusion.” He said, sitting back down. You nodded and looked at your still joined hands, noticing how his completely covered yours. You allowed yourself one more look before slowly sliding it out of his hands. As you finished cleaning up and locking up the bar, Logan stayed. As you walked back to the apartments, he walked beside you, in total silence, and both of you did.

That’s how it continued for almost a whopping 2 months. He’d show up for the last call, talk until closing, and walk you home in silence.

Until one night Logan walked in 1 hour earlier than his normal time. “You’re here early.” You pointed out, looking at the clock above the door. “Well, Wade mentioned something about you hating thunderstorms, thought you might want a familiar face around.” You never froze so fast in your life. “Oh? He told you that?” You asked, passing him a beer, Logan nodding in response.

“What if I told you he lied?” You asked, seeing him stop mid-drink to look at you, eyes with confusion. “I’m gonna strangle him,” Logan said. “He’d probably like it,” then you thought for a moment, “No, he’d love that.” He dropped the beer just in time for you to see a chuckle leave his lips with the taste of a smile, and your heart jumped. You already found him attractive, but that smile could’ve made an entire country swoon and sigh.

You looked away just in time for him to not catch you staring. “So, what do you do other than work?” Logan asked. “Vigilantism.” You replied, holding up another beer, switching up his empty bottle for a new cold one. “What did you do in your universe?” You asked. “Was a part of a team, had a suit and everything,” Logan explained. “Did they have abilities like you?” You asked, cleaning up some glasses while he talked. “Better. Way better than these claws in my skin.” He said, looking down at the counter harder than he should've.

You heard a little bit of how he was “the worst Wolverine” from Wade, and given how he was acting right now, he might have told the truth. “You remind me of one of them too. You don't look like her, but your mannerism reminds me of her.” Logan added. You took a chance and put a hand over his, “I won't pry, but if you ever want to talk, let me know.” He looked up at you with a greatful gaze, nodding his head and letting his hand hold yours.

You then looked at the clock and took your hand away from his “Closing time. Imma lock up real quick.” You said, wiping down the tables. As you were about to lock up, one man stumbled in. “We’re closed man. Go home.” You yelled. “One beer, sweetheart, it’s all I ask.” The random drunk asked, now grabbing onto your sleeve. “Were closed. Let go.” You said in a harsher tone. Trying to get your sleeve free.

“Come on sugar, just one drink.” He asked, eyes looking you up and down. “Dude. Let go!” You yelled, now trying to get his hand off you, but he had a strong grip on your wrist. Before he could respond Logan grabbed his arm, freeing you and walking him out. “Hey man what are you-.” Before he could finish Logan put his claws under the man’s neck. “The lady asked you 3 times to leave. I’m giving you 3 seconds to bounce before these find a home in your neck.”

The man stumbled back before slipping out the door. “You alright?” He asked, looking at your torn sleeve. “I’m alright.” You sighed, putting your jacket on. He walked next to you that night, almost arm and arm with you while you both made small talk. “I could’ve handled that asshole you know?” You asked him, bringing up the drunken man again. “I know, just wanted to do it.” He said, lighting a cigar, smirking, making you chuckle. “There she is.” He said, looking down at you. “What there? You asked, now across the street from the apartment. “That smile.” He said, still smoking the cigar.

As you opened the door to the building, you missed the faint blush on his cheeks. But you didn’t miss that look in his eyes and the way he looked over your body. But as he tried to open the door to his shared apartment, it was locked. “Are you fucking serious?” Logan said, now banging on the door. “Wade! Open the door!” he yelled.

Wade locked me out, and he’s not waking up.” He said, looking over at you. “I’ll try and call him.” You said, pulling out your phone and trying to call him, only for it to go straight to voicemail. “This son of a bitch.” you sighed, and put your phone away. You could tell what Logan was about to ask, so you beat him to it.

“I got a couch,” you said, unlocking your door. “I don't want to-.” “Logan, come over,” you interrupted, moving. so he could get in. You could tell he wanted to protest, but he knew he didn’t have a choice or another place to sleep. He gave the space a once-over and nodded. “Nice place,” Logan said.“I'm gonna take a quick shower, and I’ll be right out,” You said, he nodded in acknowledgment.

You turned on your heel, went down the hallway, and hopped in the bathroom. After 15 minutes you put on an oversized shirt and sleep short and walked to your close. You grabbed an extra pillow and top sheet for him.

“Here I got-.” Before you could finish you saw Logan with his shirt off looking you up and down. It was then you remembered you had gotten out of the shower, only wearing an oversized shirt and your shorts, that barely covered your thighs.

You saw his eyes staring at your legs, and then back up at you. His eyes were hungry with desire, and it was safe to say yours were too. His and was clenching and unclenching by his side. “Honey,” he breathed, “go to bed before I make a mistake.” You didn’t move, you didn’t dare. You moved closer, setting the blanket and pillow on the couch, your eyes never leaving his. “Please, walk away,” Logan said, licking his lips. “Why? When we both want the same thing?” You asked.

You swear you saw his breathing stop.

That was all he needed. He surged forward, claiming your lips with his. You could still taste the beer on his lips. His hand found your waist and then your thighs, lifting you, and groaned, looking up at you with a wolfish grin. Before he could say anything, you kissed him, your nails running through his hair as your tongue fought for control against his. His hands mapped out your skin, going over every contour and gripping your ass as he rolled his hips into yours.

A shiver ran through your veins, your thin shorts doing little to hide how much you wanted him, and he knew it. “Already? We’ve barely even started and you’re soaked?” He teased, one of his hands leaving your hips and dipping under the fabric. His fingers ran over your folds, his lips forming into a smirk as he sucked another mark into your neck. A soft moan left your lips as you felt two of his fingers dip into your cunt, “Oh fuck.”

“That’s it, honey, let me hear you,” Logan whispered. You let out a loud moan when his fingers hit your G-spot, your nails digging into his skin, emitting a groan from his lips. “Sorry.” You whispered, looking at him, only to see a feral smile on his lips. “You have no idea how much I loved that.” Logan groaned, his fingers working another finger in, making you bite down on his shoulder to muffle your moans.

“I wish you would.” He grunted, grabbed a handful of your braids, and pulled your head back, assaulting your neck with bites and kisses. “Logan!” You squealed, feeling his thumb find your clit. “Cum for me baby, let me hear it,” Logan whispered. Your hands made crescent marks on his back as you came undone, feeling his lips soothe you down from your climax.

You felt his fingers slowly come to a halt before Logan pulled his fingers out of you, his other hand letting go of your braids. “Still there, honey?” He asked, peppering kisses across your neck. You couldn’t even speak, your brain was still fogged from the orgasm you just went through. “Holy shit,” You breathed out. You finally cracked your eyes open, meeting Logan’s hungry eyes and seeing his fingers disappear in his mouth.

His tongue swirled around his digits, his eyes trained on yours. “Taste like heaven.” He said, licking his lips before claiming your lips in another kiss. You snapped out of the trance you were in as the taste of your juices hit your tongue.

You need him. You needed him now.

Your hand went to his pants, slipping under his jeans and finding his cock. He was rock-hard. He shuddered under your touch, a deep moan leaving his lips. Logan helped you get his jeans on the floor, his cock springing free and hitting his chest. “Goddamn. Someone’s blessed.” You whispered. “Is that someone you?” Logan asked, his hands slipping under the waistband of your underwear.

“Hold still for me baby,” he sighed and your arms framed his shoulders. You heard his claws come out and slice your bottoms off. “Someone’s done that before.” You teased, watching as his hand threw the fabric on the floor. Logan didn’t respond as he started to pick you up, but you held him firmly on the couch. “Nope, stay right there.” You breathed you, stroking his cock a few times.

He watched your hand pump him before positioning yourself above him. Logan’s eyes were trained on your pussy as you eased onto him. As you finally bottomed out, Logan let out a loud moan, and it almost made you cum on the spot. “Goddamn, you trying to kill me?” He asked, his hands going back to your hips. You didn’t respond as you started to move up and down, riding his cock.

Logan did little to stop the moans that were leaving his lips. “Fuck, honey. You’re squeezing me like a goddamn vice,” Logan sighed, letting you set the pace. You kissed his neck and sucked marks into his neck, not giving a damn that they wouldn’t be there tomorrow. As you bit one spot closer to his collarbone, he let out a whine. You focused on that spot and bounced on his cock a little faster.

He suddenly gripped your hips as a broken moan left his lips, “Fuck, wait.” He sighed, holding you still on his cock. “Why’d you make me stop?” You asked, looking at his screwed-shut eyes. Logan suddenly grabbed you and picked you up, still keeping you on his cock. “Which one is your room?” He asked. “Down the hall to the left,” You said. Logan walked down the hallway and you thanked god you left the door open.

He laid you and climbed over you, kneeling on the bed and pulling you closer, his cock moving between your thighs to rest on top of your belly button. You leaned up and rested on your forearms, and looked back down at his cock. “To answer your question from earlier,” Logan said, leaning down and tilting your chin up to look at him, “I stopped you because there’s more room on a bed than a couch.”

He looked down at you and licked his lips before catching your lips in a passionate kiss. Your hand cupped his cheek as you returned it, your tongue finding its way into his mouth.

You were so caught up in his kisses you didn’t register the head of his cock tapping your clit until you felt it slam into you, a scream falling out of your lips. Logan laid you back in your sheets and let his hand that wasn’t holding your thigh trail in between your chest and down your stomach as he fucked you. “Keep those eyes open for me, ya hear?” He asked, you nodding in response.

He didn’t waste a second after. Logan’s cock began to thrust in and out of you, sliding almost all the way out of you to only slam back in, emitting a moan from you every time. You writhed under him, looking up at his wild and feral expression. His mouth was open, looking down at your fucked out one, moaning loudly as you held the pillow behind you.

You could hear the sound of your headboard hitting the wall, the grunts coming out of his mouth, and you didn’t give a damn if anyone heard. All you cared about was the amount of pleasure he was giving you. As he hit that one spot that cut your breath off, you bit the pillow and screwed your eyes shut.

Immediately you felt Logan stop and he grabbed your wrist with one hand and pinned it beside your head, his own hovering over yours. “I said eyes open, darling. And don’t even think of hiding those pretty fucking moans from me.” He whispered. He then dropped his hand from your thigh and put it over his.

He now used one hand to wipe the sweat off your forehead, “You still here honey?” He asked, you nodded in response and opened your eyes. Logan was grinning down at you, taking in your tired face, “There’s my girl.” He softly kisses your lips before picking up his bruising pace, making you scream again, “Logan!” Your nails found their way to his back, making marks on his skin. “That’s right honey, let everyone on this goddamn floor who’s fucking you,” Logan grunted, using his free hand to hold your hip, his fingers digging into your skin.

The bed was creaking more as his thrust picked up, one of his hands starting to play with your clit. You instinctively let out a high-pitched whine and you swore he growled for a moment. “Logan, I’m gonna-, oh fuck!” You moaned, your hips bucking into his as you writhed your bed. “Yeah that’s it, let me see you come.” Logan cooed, His hand working your clit faster.

It didn’t take long for a long moan to erupt out of your mouth, your orgasm hitting you like a freight train. Your walls squeezed him like a vice as his free thumb caressed your chin. “Now that’s a sight I need to see more of.” Logan moaned with a smile on his face. You felt his hips pick up the pace and his moans getting louder as he was on the verge of his orgasm, both of his hands now holding your legs open.

“Tell me where honey,” Logan asked, looking down at you. Your legs only pulled him closer, and that was all the confirmation he needed. A sinful whimper left his lips as he spilled into you, his eyes screwing shut. Logan held himself up and let the waves of the orgasm wear off before he moved, flopping down in your bed next to you. “Goddamn.” He sighed, catching his breath.

You nodded, looking up at the ceiling. “For a 200-plus-year-old, you fuck like you’re 30.” You said, looking over at him only to meet his gaze, “I don’t hear you complaining.” Logan teased, pulling a chuckle from you. “After the two orgasms you gave me, I’d be a goddamn fool too.” You said with a laugh. A yawn soon came from your mouth as you turned on your side, “Wore you out that much?” Logan asked, leaning over and looking down at you with an amused smirk on his face.

“Yeah, and I’m, once again, not complaining,” you said, feeling yourself drifting off to sleep. That night was one of the best you ever had, followed by one of the best mornings. You awoke to the sound of someone breathing in your ear and an arm around your waist.

Logan slept in your bed last night, and you slept in his arms. As looked down, his hand was rubbing your hip through the sheets. “You’re awake?” You asked, turning around and meeting his eyes, “I’ve been up for a while.” You felt his thumb caress your cheek, a tender touch matching the emotion in his eyes. “I know this is probably a stupid to ask, given the circumstances, but would you like to grab a drink with me? Ya know, outside of work,” Logan asked.

You only leaned up and kissed his lips before pulling back and looking at him, “I’d love to.” Logan broke out into a grin that could rival the sun and returned the kiss. After a quick shower and getting dressed, you were about to make breakfast when a loud knock hit your door. “Who is it?” Logan asked, coming out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. You couldn't stop your eyes from wandering down his chest, but you refocused, “I don't know, I didn't answer it.

The person knocked harder a second time, almost startling you. Logan walked forward and opened the door, only to find no one there. You peeped out the hallway, saw Wade’s door open, and heard music coming from it. “I think I know who it was.” You recognized the song coming from inside too: Sexual Healing. As you walked in, Wade was singing along before he saw you walk in and popped a confetti cannon.

“Congratulations!” he yelled, and Blind Al popped hers as well. “I guess Christmas came early because I know you did last night,” Wade then looked over your shoulder, and nodded, “Both of you did.” Logan was standing behind you and closed the door, only in the towel. “What the hell is all of this?” Logan asked. “A small celebration for you finally getting laid. All part of my plan last night.” Wade explained. Logan immediately walked past you, “What the hell does that mean?”

“Well come on man, I knew it was bound to happen when you took more than 15 minutes to get back, you think I locked you out by accident?” Wade grinned, and it all clicked. “You knew I would let him crash?” You asked, seeing the shit-eating grin grow on his face. “Oh I knew you would let him do more than that, sugar, besides that's what you both fucked on wasn't it?”

You and Logan shared a look, confused about how we knew. “First of all, neither of you tried to be quiet, at all, especially you Donna Summer,” Wade said, pointing at you. “Two, I could hear the headboard hitting the wall thanks to tall strong big dick vintage-rine over here,” he continued. “And three, someone with claws made a little hole in the wall, and trust me, I heard it all.”

Logan’s mouth was open while you wanted the ground to swallow you whole. Wade then went to the fridge and pulled out a cake and got candles. “Happy first fuckiversary, my friends,” Wade said, putting the candle in the middle, above a gel doodle of two stick figures. One of them had boobs and was on her back with her legs in the air while the other with claws was in front of her. “Made this little doodle last night,” Wade said as he lit the candle, “go ahead, blow it, you’ll be doing a lot of that later.”

You didn't miss the wink he gave Logan as you blew out the candle. You took the cake and looked at Wade. “Thanks for the cake,” You said, hugging him, “and thanks for locking the door.” You took the cake and then left, Logan shutting the door behind him as you both went back to your apartment. “He’s never gonna let that go is he?” Logan asked, you shaking your head in response. “Nope, now go back over there and get dressed.”

He had a quick, confused look on his face. "Why?" you explained, throwing him his pants and shirt. "You made a damn hole in my wall, you're helping me fix it." "Yes, ma'am," he chuckled, walking back over to his and Wade's apartment.

You never thought you would see the day you would thank Wade for bringing you a man, but I guess Marvel Jesus works in mysterious ways.

[thedoubteriswise]

okay so. I am a smart adult with many important responsibilities. I have good taste and care about things that matter. for this reason, I’ve been trying to identify where in cql canon wangxian manage to fuck.

because they definitely do; I like a good post-canon getting together fic as much as the next guy, but it’s just not realistic.

allow them. it’s already been so long.

(just like this goddamn post turned out to be, let’s do a cut)

right. so initially it looks like you could place this right after the time skip in episode 33, because it shows us that wwx is with lwj in cloud recesses. we know that he spent the night in the jingshi because he wakes up there the next morning before he goes for a nostalgic tour of his old school.

and also visits the cold spring, where lwj is mostly naked. nice.

but wait! wwx is surprised by the scars on his back and chest. that seems like something he would have known about if they’d already been naked together the night before, so I’m going to say they did not fuck immediately upon wwx’s return to cloud recesses. okay, fine, they’re taking things slow, that’s cool.

maybe they could work it into the next night, then. oh wait, lqr is injured and... staying in the jingshi? for reasons?

I don’t know why. he must have his own house in cloud recesses, and it’s probably at least as comfortable as lwj’s, but here he is. he lives to stop his nephew from getting laid, I guess.

the next day they do some Q&A with the kids and determine that they need to head to qinghe to figure out what’s going on with this sword thing. great! we love a romantic road trip, plenty of alone time. but they also have to do their jobs, and then jin ling needs to get rescued from a wall of dirt, and jc is unfortunately there being himself, and then they have to grill nhs about his tomb full of angry sabers, etc. etc.

with all that going on, their next obvious chance is at the inn immediately after interviewing nhs. this evening has already included:

wwx gazing lovingly at lwj from afar

lwj carrying wwx on his back

lwj pawing at wwx’s robes trying to deal with his cursed leg

lwj helping wwx up the stairs, serving him wine, fixing his flute, and generally being at his beck and call

a very sexy and homoerotic duet

and now they’re alone and drooling over each other as usual. this seems like a plausible spot, right?

it does! but no. after they go back to the nie basement o’ swords and hear the backstory on nmj’s death, we see them walking in yueyang and lwj asks wwx how the curse mark on his leg is doing. wwx says it’s almost healed, which may or may not be a lie, but his inner monologue says:

he’s more concerned about the wound on his arm from the sacrificing curse, which lwj doesn’t know about, because wwx won’t tell him and they still haven’t been naked together.

also, this silly teenage shit doesn’t make much sense unless they’re still dancing around each other.

you guys love the sound of opportunities as they go flying past, don’t you?

right after this, lwj gets drunk. I’m aware that Stuff Happens in the novel scene that inspired this bit, and they do incorporate some of that into the show by having lwj commit petty larceny and admit that he “likes rabbits” as part of the softest and most loving conversation in human history oh my god

but lwj goes to sleep right on time, and the next morning, wwx is laughing and reassuring him that nothing happened.

after this, it’s time to go on a fucked up field trip with the kids in yi city, so they don’t really have any time alone for a few episodes until they’ve finished that and everyone is back at yet another inn. I wonder if they learned something about wasted chances and poor communication from this miserable songxiao story?

maybe! look, they’re being cute and domestic. there are currently no material barriers preventing them from having sex, nor will there be any specific evidence later on proving that they didn’t.

but they’re still firmly in mystery-solving mode and the juniors and lxc are floating around. the vibe isn’t quite there. if I were to pick the most solid reason why I think they’re saving room for jesus at this point, it would be the tension that happens when wwx again asks how lwj recognized him. lwj asks why his memory is so bad, and wwx replies that he wishes he had a bad memory. even though they’re comfortable and happy being together, there’s still some fundamental distance remaining. there’s no sense of romantic resolution. that was actually a point against all their previous opportunities as well; they’re all very sweet, but none of these feel like the place in a story where the romantic leads Officially Get Together.

okay, off to koi tower! shit is getting extremely real. everyone’s busy insinuating that they recognize wwx, but no one is saying it explicitly. wwx isn’t supposed to be here. the guy he’s pretending to be also isn’t supposed to be here. he and his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s brother are trying to figure out if his boyfriend’s brother’s boyfriend is a murderer. no one is comfortable and the political intrigue leaves no time for fucking in front of anyone’s salad.

I guess there’s plenty of time to make dozens of armed guards and like half the people they know wait while they have a romantic moment, though.

could they be more in love? And that sure feels like a romantic resolution that might be followed by narratively-earned sex.

ah. no, unfortunately wwx gets stabbed again. this certainly sucks, but it does have the helpful consequence of making lwj take him back to cloud recesses, where they are mostly alone and as safe as they can be in the circumstances. now there’s even more tenderness and also some plot-justified touching and skin exposure. plus, lwj just made a very public declaration of love.

too bad wwx has probably been unconscious since he started coughing up blood in the forest near lanling. he’s also still visibly in pain. fresh abdominal wounds tend to kill the mood.

but hey, the injuries on this show are only as serious as they need to be to move the plot forward and facilitate gentle h/c scenes, so by evening he’s looking perfectly healthy and walking around under his own steam like nothing’s wrong. I guess that problem can be ignored moving forward.

lxc then offers the the most devastating highlights of lwj’s backstory, like, all at once. it’s nice that he includes a flute solo to give wwx a second to process this mountain of terrible information. what the fuck.

there he is! the most devoted man in the whole world! turns out they can actually be more in love after all.

and then the following scene... look, I’m lazy and I don’t know how to make gifs, but screenshots cannot properly convey how good it is. you all know. the hesitant way wwx approaches, the slow and gentle piano version of wangxian, the two of them watching the snow together, it’s. ugh.

remember how I was talking about how the last scene with no material barriers was an unlikely candidate because of the lack of romantic resolution?

well, here’s wwx still being cagey at the beginning of this conversation.

and here they are in the middle of this conversation, having some epiphanies about the course of wwx’s life - I love this shot for a lot of reasons, but I extra love it because it shows wwx out in the snow, with lwj as the safety and warmth waiting behind him, god this show goes hard, holy shit

they both recall their vow to live with a clean conscience and internally say some very corny things about each other because they are both So Much, and then,

ah, what the hell. he can say it out loud after all. romantic resolution accomplished.

and then the camera slowly pulls away as wuji plays.

a slow zoom out? swelling music? listen, I am a connoisseur, I know a tasteful fade-to-black indicating a sex scene that won’t happen on camera when I see one. at last, we have a winner!

now you may think this post is finally over, but I actually have one more piece of evidence for you - the next scene shows the two of them the morning after, meditating behind a screen in the hanshi while lxc is waiting for jgy to show up.

before wwx got de-cored, he was a pretty powerful cultivator, right? the chances that he’s just bad at meditating or that he can’t stay focused on this task seem slim to me. so why does he keep falling asleep?

well. he had kind of a late night.

[slowly-writing]

Only You

Jennifer Jareau x Reader

Word count: 1.3k

Requested by anon: Could I get a JJ imagine where R is super flirty with everyone especially JJ but then JJ gets jealous when she flirts with others.

“Y/l/n!”

“Yes, beautiful?” You return JJ’s call across the bullpen and she rolls her eyes, but you can see the blush she's trying to hide by looking away.

“Emily needs those files on her desk by the end of the day,” she tells you, gesturing to the stack of papers shoved as far away from you as your desk allows.

“I don’t waaaaaannaaaaa,” you whine and she rolls her eyes again, “you do it for me.”

“Nice try, cutie. Do your own work,” JJ shoots back and you groan, throwing your head back and slumping in your chair.

“Damn Jareau, what’d you do to her?” Morgan asks as he and Reid walk back into the bullpen from their coffee run.

“Nothing! I’m just the messenger here. Emily needs the paperwork from the last case and y/n is mad I won’t do it for her,” JJ defends and you look up at Morgan.

“You wanna help?” You put on your best puppy dog face but he shakes his head, backing away.

“No way, that’s all in you. I’ve got my own paperwork to deal with.”

“I can help. I finished mine before we left,” Reid says and you grin as he pulls his chair towards your desk.

“You’re the best, Spencer,” you place a kiss on his cheek. He blushes but smiles as the two of you tuck into the papers, missing the way JJ’s brow furrows just slightly.

xxxxx

You’re all sitting around the conference room table eating lunch a few hours later. To say the team needed a break from paperwork would be an understatement, so you had all left your desks to hang out over the lunch hour.

“Is that a new shirt, y/l/n?” Prentiss asks and you glance down at it before smirking at her.

“It is, know what it’s made of? Girlfriend material. Looks pretty good on me doesn’t it?” You ask with a wink.

“It’d look better on my bedroom floor,” Emily flirts back and the team bursts out laughing. All except a certain blonde who’s staring very intently at her food. Nobody seems to notice but you. The conversation continues but you can’t look away from JJ who is stabbing at her salad just a bit too aggressively in her seat next to you.

“Hey, are you okay?” You whisper and she sends you a tense smile.

“I’m good,” her voice is stiff, and it doesn’t take a profiler to know she’s upset but this isn’t the time or place to have that conversation, so you file it away for later as Emily’s phone rings. She steps out of the room and you all glance after her.

“Any guesses on where this one is?” Garcia wonders aloud, knowing you’re all about to have a case.

“Hopefully the west coast. I need a break from the cold,” Morgan says as Emily enters the room again.

“Well your wish has just been granted, we’re going to California. Wheels up in 20, we’ll have the briefing on the plane,” she says and everyone moves to gather their things, JJ is out the door before you’re even on your feet.

xxxxx

“What can I do you for?” Garcia answers the phone, peppy as ever despite the unfortunate circumstances.

“Hey, it’s y/l/n. We need help narrowing down our suspect pool,” you begin as you place the phone on speaker and set it in the middle of the table.

“Ah yes, my second favorite profiler. What parameters do you have,” Garcia teases and you place a hand over your heart even though she can’t see you.

“You wound me, my love. I thought what we had was special,” you can see Morgan smirking and you roll your eyes.

“It is darling, but nobody can beat my chocolate thunder.”

“Whatever. JJ’s my favorite anyway. She’d never insult me like this,” you wink at the blonde and she laughs, a smile finally back on her face. “Anyway, we need to look into men who’ve lost their job recently.”

“Try people in the construction industry,” JJ adds in and soon enough you’re back to business.

xxxxx

“What are you all up to?” Morgan asks as he enters the small room the local officers have you in.

“Reid was teaching me about important dates in history. Wanna be one of them?” You ask and he laughs.

“Only if you’re paying, hot stuff,” you scrunch up your face in fake thought at his words.

“You drive a hard bargain, but I might be able to make that work,” you tell him with a smirk, even pulling a chuckle out of Reid who still hasn’t looked up from the files in front of him. But you notice JJ is once again frowning, and you’re starting to think you know what’s going on. Before you can question it Prentiss is walking in.

“Alright, I want JJ and y/l/n on the first site. Morgan, Ried, and I will check out the other. We’ll meet back here, hopefully with our unsub in custody,” Prentiss instructs and you all grab your vests before heading to two SUVs.

“I’m glad we got paired up,” you say in a rare show of sincerity as you step into the vehicle and leave the parking lot.

“Really?” JJ asks and you grin at the blush on her cheeks, but as quick as your serious mood came, it’s gone.

“Yeah. I mean, I'm no photographer, but I can picture you and I together,” you tell her and she rolls her eyes as you pull up to the run down house.

“Never serious for long, are you y/n?” She asks and you shake your head.

“Where’s the fun in that?” You ask before focusing on the task at hand. “You take the front I’ll take the back.”

At her nod you split up, a few local officers following each of you. You wait for JJ’s signal through your earpiece before going in the back door. You’re making your way through the house when you see the unsub. He’s standing directly between you and JJ, a knife in hand. There’s no way for you to take a shot without risking JJ’s safety.

You weigh your options, deciding that your best bet is a surprise attack. You take a running start, sweeping out the unsub’s legs before grabbing his arms as he falls face first. In his shock he drops the knife and you’re able to secure a set of handcuffs around his wrists fairly easily.

“Jesus, y/l/n, where’d that come from?” JJ asks and you smile sheepishly as you roll out your shoulders.

“What? I wanted to play hero,” you justify as you hand off the unsub to the cops.

“You really are something else, huh?” She says and you grin for real.

“The things you do for love.” Her smile falls quickly at your words.

“No one loves me.”

“I’m- I’m right in front of you? How dare you?!” You sputter out and she shakes her head

“I mean really loves me, y/n. We flirt and it’s fun, but you flirt with everyone. It doesn’t mean anything,” she argues and your jaw drops.

“It does when it’s with you!” You all but yell.

“What?”

“I...I’m in love with you JJ. And I couldn’t help the flirty comments I sent your way, so I thought if I said them to everyone, then you wouldn’t figure it out. But it’s always been you, only you,” you promise, taking her hand in yours and pulling her closer. She smiles at you before pulling you into a bruising kiss. It is everything you expected and more, and it is so worth the wait.

“Is this the Hogwarts Express? Because it feels like you and I are headed somewhere magical,” you say as you pull away and she glares playfully.

“Those aren’t done now?”

“Never.”

Tag list: @rvgrsbrns @rororo06 @prizmix-and-friends @worlds-in-words @im-salt-but-not-salty @5aftermidnight @riotmaximoff @xxxtwilightaxelxxx 

CM tag list: @reidingandwriting @zizzlekwum 

[willcwthewisp]

monkee see, monkee do | luce & willow

TIMING: before mother’s day. PARTIES:  @divineluce and @willcwthewisp. SUMMARY: two artists meet a new challenger. OH YEAH!

Washing her hands in the sink, Luce looked around at her cabin with a wistful sigh. She’d had a handful of tourists book it over the last few weeks, which was helpful. But, she missed living here. She missed quiet nights with Iggy, a fire in the grate, working on a new design or practicing some of her more precise manipulations of the flame. She missed the comfortable solitude of it all, back when she was… herself. Letting out a sigh, Luce locked up the cabin. But, instead of getting back into her Jeep, she went into the woods, following the familiar trails. She missed being able to just throw herself into the woods. But the forest wasn’t the same for her, not anymore. She’d destroyed it, burned it, had some angry spirit of the forest confront her with that fact. Maybe she’d go back to the grove she’d burnt down today. Check how it was.

As Luce moved deeper into the forest, the earth beneath her feet began to shift, becoming soft and loamy. Frowning, she glanced around and was startled to see-- “What the fuck..?” She said as a strangely animated looking river began to flow through the trees. Animated as in like, it looked as though a fucking 90’s Disney artist had drawn this shit. But the water soaking through her boots was very real. As was the scream that rang through the air.

One moment, Willow had been taking a solitary walk along the edge of White Crest’s Outskirts and the next she’d found herself careening down a watery pathway. The river had appeared out of seemingly nowhere, and the only warning she’d had of anything mysterious being afoot had been the sudden appearance of a cute, monkey looking creature. It had even been holding its tail between it’s little paws as if it were nervous or something of that like. She’d blinked, and next thing she’d known her clothes were wet, and she was sputtering amongst the throes of a gushing river. “Help!” she yelled out frantically. There was no reason for her to think that someone might hear her cries, but what else was there for her to do but seek assistance? The river wound its way downhill, and a nearly inhumane scream wrenched itself from her lips. “Help! I can’t- the river- it just-” For the brief moment her head was above water, she managed to make out a human shape along the banks of the water, and made her best effort to swim towards it. “The monkey! Where’s the monkey?!” Why she cared about a strange little monkey at a time like this, she couldn’t say.

As Luce watched the strangely textured water flow through the trees, she saw that there was a monkey creature, tapping its chin thoughtfully as it bobbed up and down on a flamingo inner tube that had the same dark lines as the water. “Fucking, of course. Saetimps.” She rolled her eyes before turning her attention to the woman who was yelling and trying to swim-- badly, it looked-- to the edge of the river. Gritting her teeth, Luce waded out into the water and held out her hand as far as she could reach, “C’mon, get over here! Before that thing whips out a shark or something.” She yelled. As she said that, she could practically feel the Saetimp’s eyes turn onto her and she watched to her dismay, as it drew a very Little Mermaid-esque looking shark that flopped into the water and began to swim towards them. “Shit, shit, shit, let’s go, dry land, right now!” She yelled, dragging the woman behind her as she pushed her way through the river back to the dry forest floor.

Willow grabbed for the other woman’s arm in desperation, clutching onto it as if it were her only lifeline in the world. For all she knew, it was. As she was yoinked from the river, her chest heaved with the effort of her panicked breaths, eyes almost impossibly wide as she watched the newly drawn shark circling beneath her and the other woman. “What’s wrong with it?” she nearly screeched, referring to the strangest monkey she’d encountered in her entire life. “Sharks aren’t even native to rivers!” she yelled, as if the Saetimp cared anything about that. “Or well- there’s a species of river shark but- that does not look like one of them!” Apparently the hell monkey took insult to this, and soon enough an accurate river shark had joined the other in the waters. But it didn’t matter anymore. Willow and the other girl had made it to dry land. “At least they can’t get us here,” the medium breathed, trying to catch her breath. “It’s not like they could grow legs or something.” Yet again, the Saetimp took this as a personal challenge, and in a blink of her eyes the sharks were suddenly crawling up the side of the bank, strange, arm-like legs protruding from their bodies as they crab-walked closer. “No!” Willow denied, as if she could forcefully put them back. “No! That’s not right! Go back!”

Holding on tight, Luce hauled the woman out of the animated rapids, shaking water from her face in an effort to get a clear look at just what was going on. The fucking Saetimp was watching them with that same stupid look on its face, tapping its paintbrush against the side of its inner tube. And when the woman spoke up, Luce’s eyes widened as the sharks began to sprout legs with hands attached to them. “You just had to fucking say something!” She said, glancing around them. The woods were thick with tree roots that made running nearly impossible. And the water, it was rising and rising. But, the Saetimp was still scratching its head as though it still didn’t like the scene it’d created. She’d seen that expression before-- not on a magic monkey before, but she’d seen it often enough. “Oh no! What would we do if there were attack hamsters!” She said, shouting the first thing that came to mind. Apparently, she’d spent too much time with Hamtarot, because that’s what came out. The Saetimp seemed just as confused as her, but suddenly the water was full of fuzzy creatures in mechanized hamster balls. The arm-legged sharks began to snap at the brightly colored hamster balls, distracted for a moment. “You got any other ideas?” She asked the woman.

“What?!” Willow exclaimed as the other woman spoke of hamsters, briefly looking towards her as if the unknowing savior had lost her mind. “Ideas? Why would I want to give it more ideas?” But as she watched she realized the hamsters had served a purpose, and the purpose was actually working out quite well for her and the brunette. “They...like the hamsters?” she asked with a nonplussed look on her face, beginning to connect the dots when it came to more things being drawn as a means of buying them time. “Oh...oh!” she began excitedly, trying to name the first thing that came to mind. “And if there were books with teeth? Ones that could chomp and crack hamster balls? That’d be really bad!” Sure enough the Saetimp began to draw just that, the books gnashing their way through the hamsters that were trying to make their way through the sharks. “Oh that’s...I mean they were a little cute, weren’t they?” she asked the woman standing next to her, suddenly feeling a little guilty for the little fuzzy creatures. 

Watching with dismay and irritation as half a dozen toothy books fell into the river, Luce watched as the animated little hamster balls began to sink in the waves. “No, don’t give it more weapons, Jesus.” But, it seemed as though it was working. The hamster balls were being crushed and the sharks were snarling, distracted by the fuzzy little creatures swimming around. Were they carrying tiny knives? Luce watched as one of the hamsters let out a tiny Rambo yell and launched itself at a leggy shark, stabbing twin bowie knives into the shark’s fin. “They’ve got tiny knives too. Wow. I mean, they’re cute if you like getting shanked?” Luce said, squinting at the very confusing fray. Meanwhile, the Saetimp had noticed that the chaos it had created had missed the mark-- it hadn’t killed either of them. Seeing the frustrated look on its face, Luce grasped at straws, “Oh boy, I’m so afraid of… the fucking… Kool-aid man! Yep! Super afraid of him. Boy, it’d be shitty if he popped up!” The Saetimp glared at her and for a moment, Luce was afraid that it’d just draw a pit with spikes in the bottom and she’d get turned into a kebab. But then, exploding out of the water with a loud “OH YEAH” was… the fucking Kool-aid Man. Looking over at the woman, Luce shrugged helplessly, “Listen, I didn’t hear any other better ideas. We can take the Kool-Aid man, right?”

Willow screamed as the Kool-Aid man himself popped out of the water, and her rampant telekinesis was quick to respond to the jump-scare of the century, even though she wasn’t realistically all that afraid of the oversized punch pitcher. One of the sharks was suddenly launched into the glass side of the Kool-Aid Man teeth first, leaving a shark-sized hole in its wake as red punch began to spill into the river. Sure— there’d been a couple of nightmares she’d had about him bursting through her wall as a kid and getting stuck in his big head of punch, but she was thirty-two now! She shouldn’t be afraid of the Kool-Aid Man. But he was just so big. Not to mention unpredictable. Nevertheless this felt like a victory for her four-year-old self. “Ah- if that’s what you meant by taking the Kool-Aid Man, sure!” Nevermind that it hadn’t exactly been intentional. What next? What else could they make this thing draw? Or maybe...what was the thing artists hated most? Ignorant critique, wasn’t it? Unfortunately Willow’s mean streak was about a centimeter wide, but that didn’t stop her from doing her best to frustrate the Saetimp. “You call- you call that a Kool-Aid Man?” she tried to goad despite her stammering. “My grandma could draw a better one!” She could have sworn the monkey turned a shade that was almost as red as the pitcher it had drawn, and in an instant it was trying to pop out another, better one.

Flinching at the loud shriek, Luce glanced over at the woman for a moment before a loud shattering sound filled the air. What the fuck? Had that shark just been yeeted through the Kool-Aid Man? What the fuck? Luce stared back at the woman-- was she some kind of psychic? Or, fuck, hadn’t Peanut done something like that before? A medium? Whatever, it didn’t really matter. As the woman yelled at the Saetimp, Luce rolled her eyes. At least the creature wasn’t bright, because it took the bait hook line and sinker. “Yeah, look at those lines! They’re so thick and wobbly, I wouldn’t even want that hanging up on my fridge!” She said, gesturing to the shattered Kool-Aid Man that was thrashing in the water, now being devoured by sharks. The river was still flowing through and the Saetimp was steadily being taken down stream, but she wanted this thing gone. “I bet you couldn’t draw anything with real detail. Like-- Like a yacht! You wouldn’t even know where the sails go!” Did yachts have sails? Who fucking knew, but Luce had a feeling the Saetimp sure didn’t.  

Willow laughed despite herself, the mental image of the mess of drawings on a fridge tipping her over the edge when it came to finding humor is as ridiculous a situation as this. And Luce had been right about the Saetimp’s lack of nautical knowledge. Even now it was drawing some sails attached to the smokestacks of a very strange looking yacht. “That’s not where the sails go!” Willow called out, trying to figure out how they might tangle this Saetimp in its own drawings. Would it just...get tired after a while or something? “Plus it needs bigger sails! Sails as tall as the trees!” Willow’s arms raised above her head as if she could personally model how tall a tree was. After all, it was a part of her namesake. “A big willow tree with lots of branches and birds, and- and monkeys!” Maybe a self-portrait would send the creature into a downwards shame spiral. 

It seemed like the Saetimp was at its last wits, creative juices sputtering out as it muddled its way through adding an absolutely atrocious willow tree, with lumpy, ugly monkeys with their hands fused to its branches. “Jesus fucking christ, that’s horrifying.” Luce muttered as she watched the potato shaped monkeys screamed angrily at them from the deck of the yacht/steamboat/pirate ship that was sailing down the river. Just as she was about to wrack her brains for more ideas to feed the Saetimp, she watched as the creature threw its paintbrush down in disgust and stamped its foot on the deck of the yacht. As it did so, the yacht continued to sail down the river, lumpy looking monkeys screeching as the boat disappeared from view. Luce sank to the ground and let out a long sigh. “Good fucking christ.” She said, wringing out her water logged clothes. “You good?”

Willow looked at the abomination of a creation in slight wonder, head tilted in interest as she tried to make sense of what the monkey had drawn. As she watched the monkeys with their hands stuck to the tree she felt a small stab of guilt in her gut. They weren’t...real monkeys in the way a normal one would be right? They wouldn’t actually suffer while being trapped against the tree? But at least the head monkey was gone, and the two girls could finally have peace. Except… “Isn’t the monkey and everything just going to run into someone else down the river?” Nevertheless, she settled herself onto the ground as well, suddenly tired after swimming in the currents of the river. “Um- I’m fine. Are you?” Now that the monkey was gone, she could recover decently well, instead of letting her panic overtake her. “Thank you though- for helping me. I’d probably still be going down the river if it wasn’t for you.” Willow’s doe-eyed gaze filled with gratitude as she finally took in the other girl, trying to figure out why she looked somewhat familiar.

“It might. But, I have a feeling that guy’s gonna be tired out enough after making all of that. He’ll probably pass out in a hammock somewhere.” Luce said as she squeezed water from the ends of her hair. She was really only guessing; she’d never really interacted with Saetimps before. Most of what she knew about them came from her general interest in the strange Fae when she was younger. But, she’d never really looked for them around town. “Just peachy.” Luce replied as she stood up, her clothes damp and uncomfortable against her warm skin. “No problem.” Luce said slowly, a bit caught off guard by the way that the other woman was staring at her. What, did the Saetimp draw something on her face? “I’m Luce, by the way.” She said with a nod.

“I hope so…” Willow trailed off, trying not to think too hard about the future harm the strange monkey could bring to people. It wasn’t as if she could do anything about it, anyway. She was no hunter, and she wasn’t sure she had the stomach to sign something’s death warrant anyway. Willow made her own efforts to get the water off her clothes, still disappointedly wet and dripping by the time she was finished. Shaking her hands with a sigh, she tried to look at the bright side of the situation. At least they were...in one piece? The girl's name finally struck the bell that had been faintly ringing in Willow’s head, and recognition lit her eyes. “Bea’s your sister, right?” She chose the phrasing carefully, knowing how annoying it was when people asked if she was Forest’s sister and not the other way around. “I was friends with her for a while until…” Forest had made a mess of things. “Well- it doesn’t matter, I just knew her. But really- thank you for helping me,” she repeated, already thinking about the pile of blankets she wanted to tunnel under one she got home.

At the mention of her sister, Luce’s eyes narrowed slightly-- not as harshly as they might have a year ago, but she was confused all the same. “Yeah. She is.” Luce said with a slow nod, now eying the woman with earnest. Blonde, honestly pretty basic looking, about Bea’s age. Which made sense if she said that they were friends for a bit. A girl on the cheer team? No, that couldn’t be it. Luce would have known her-- she’d “reluctantly” waited on the sidelines during Bea’s many cheer practices. She recognized most of the girls who’d been on the team back then, the result of stealing glances up over her sketchbook. But, this girl definitely wasn’t one of them. Hm-- “Hang on. You’re Willow, right? Fo--” Forest’s sister, she almost said, but caught herself quickly, “Finch. Willow Finch. You had that art studio in town.” She said, remembering how envious she’d been when the place had first opened.

Curiosity tempered slightly by how reluctant Willow seemed, Luce nodded again, “No problem.” She repeated. “I’ve dealt with worse out here.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “I have a cabin up here. Do you… want to borrow a towel or something?” She asked belatedly, realizing she probably should have offered sooner. 

Willow shifted uncertainly under Luce’s gaze, not entirely certain what it was the other woman was looking for until she finally came up with the medium’s name. “Oh- yes! I’m Willow,” she realized sheepishly that she’d forgotten to give her name in return when Luce had offered her own. “Sorry- I guess I just got caught up in recognizing you.” For a moment Willow brightened at the mention of her studio, but an instant later the gleam had dulled into disappointment and regret as she nodded confirmation. “Yes- the one that closed a few months ago. It was the one with the gallery in the front, and then I had my studio in the back.” But that was long gone, a dream broken just like she’d broken that man’s arm. She was curious about Luce’s reasoning for asking after the gallery, but decided that was a conversation that could wait for when they were both nicely dry. 

A vigorous shake of Willow’s head served as her initial answer to Luce’s invitation, already feeling rather squirrly the longer she stood here with Luce, accurately aware of all the things that could go wrong if her telekinesis decided to flex its muscles. “Oh no- no, thank you. I mean thank you, but I really should go home.”

“Yeah. I just said that.” Luce nodded, a bit of her old sense of humor trickling back into her tone as she regarded the woman. “And don’t worry. Not a lot of people from high school recognize me.” She said with a shrug. She’d always been quiet in school and, outside of a few people she was friendly with in her art classes, no one remembered her as anything other than “Bea Vural’s younger sister.” A lot of people didn’t put together the fact that the moody girl who doodled in the back of class was now a heavily tattooed artist at Ink Inc. “It’s a bummer it closed down. I wanted to take a look at the gallery but,” Life went off the rails for the past year, “I never got the chance. Sucks, though.” She said offhandedly.

The amount of nervous energy coming off Willow was really something else-- Luce was distinctly reminded of the shivery looking Chihuahua on the old Taco Bell commercials. Raising an eyebrow, Luce raised her hands in surrender. “Suit yourself. Stay safe out there.” She said before heading back in the direction of her cabin, boots squishing noisily as she walked. It just had to draw up a river, didn’t it? Fucking Saetimps. 

Willow was trying to make sense of whether or not Luce was joking with a tired mind, deciding to play it safe and simply shoot the other girl a tentative smile. “I don’t think we actually went to highschool together. Just missed each other or something like that. And um- well it’s been a while, right?” She didn’t want the other girl thinking she’d been unmemorable or something as depressing as that, and she vaguely remembered Bea saying something about how Luce would be entering her freshman year once Willow graduated all those years ago. “Or...Bea is Luce’s older sister?” Willow tried to offer kindly with a gentle hint of a joke, knowing how frustrating it could be to only be known by a sibling’s name at times. A sigh of relief escaped Willow when Luce didn’t push the subject of the cabin, and she too began her trek home. “Thanks- you too!” At least the only things she’s thrown today were badly drawn sharks.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Convince Me To Go {6}

AU Chris Evans x Reader

Warning: Mild Cursing, Slow Burn, Angst

Words: 1.9k

Summary: When we run away, we’re usually running from something. This time you may have run toward it instead.

Note: Welp. 🤷🏾‍♀️  I hope you enjoy this.

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

“Ma’am?”

 You leaped to your feet as one of the nurses approached you.

 “Yes? Is he dead? Please tell me he isn’t dead. He’s dead isn’t he?”

 She gave you a bewildered look and shook her head as she pushed a clipboard to you.

 “No, I actually don’t know how he is. I just came over because when you came in he was rushed in due to the seriousness of the injury. Usually, we have everyone wait and fill out the paperwork. Unfortunately, in the chaos, the paperwork was pushed to the side.”

 “Unfortunately? Unfortunately, he needed serious medical attention? Well I’m sorry someone’s life is more important than stupid paperwork. I mean what the fuck kind of establishment is this?!” you were livid. The state of healthcare had really gone down the toilet all in the name of the bottom line—money.

“Ma’am,” she began slowly before she paused. She must have read your face and saw that you were not with the bullshit. You’d been on your feet for hours and hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours and you were in desperate need of a shower and to top it off you’d been assaulted two fucking times. You were in a bitch of a mood.

 “I know you must be under a great deal of stress seeing as your husband was just brought in with a pretty serious stab wound--.”

 “Husband?”

 “Yes, that is what you said when we tried to tell you only family could wait here.”

 It all came back to you and you sighed then rubbed your forehead. “I’m so tired.” You feigned exhaustion as you staggered back to the seat.

 “I understand. I’ll have someone bring you some water. We can worry about the paperwork later.” The nurse put the clipboard on the seat beside you and hurried away asking someone for water. You peeked out from behind your hand and sighed out in relief. The distressed woman act always worked. 

A few moments later someone else walked over to you with a cold bottle of water. You thanked them and slowly sipped it. the clipboard beside you caught your eye and you scanned it. you saw the information they needed, first and last name, date of birth, sex, address, phone number, email address, race, eye color. The only thing you knew was his sex and eye color.

 Then there was a bold line and underneath was where all the hard stuff was like insurance, employer, emergency contact, policy number and a bunch of other things you didn’t know a thing about.

 “Jesus. You really have been running around the city alone with a man you know nothing about.”

 You thought back to what you did know. He was kind, he was funny—hilarious really, smart, generous, chivalrous, and protective. He came off as an asshole in the beginning but now he came off as a really good likable asshole. You smiled at the thought, then worry sparked up.

 It had been almost an hour and still, you heard nothing about what was going on, or how he was. That was when the pacing began, you went down the hall a few feet then back where you came from and repeated it several times. Before you knew it you were being tapped on the shoulder.

 “Ma’am.” It was a different nurse this time. “Come with me.”

 She walked ahead and you slowly followed behind certain she was bringing you to the morgue. You went down the hall, made a right then a left, then she stopped and looked at you. She had a pleasant smile on her face, and you thought it was weird to smile after someone had died. As you opened your mouth to say something she motioned for you to go through the door. You took a deep breath and walked inside to see him propped up in the hospital bed with a bandage around his abdomen. To the right, you saw a bright red bloodstain through the bandage. His eyes were closed, and your heart constricted.

 “Oh my god, he’s--.” At the sound of your voice, his eyes opened, and you sighed out heavily. “Not dead.” You rushed into the room to the side of the bed and cotched at the side of the bed. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you’re fucking alive.” You threw your arms around him and pulled him into a tight hug.

 The embrace caught him off guard, but it wasn’t off-putting, it was rather nice. When your grip tightened a little too much he groaned out in pain which had you quickly pulling back.

 “I’m told I have a wife to live for. Why the hell would I dare die on her?” You smirked which turned into a full-on smile. You took a quick glance over your shoulder and leaned closer to him.

 “I had to, they were trying to make me wait in the visitor’s waiting room,” you whispered. He nodded.

 “Of course, had to pull out the big guns, the W word.” You snorted and shook your head.

 “How the hell are you joking like this? You nearly died, white prince.”

 “I told you I’d be fine. It was a flesh wound.”

 “You got lucky, while it wasn’t deep enough to be life-threatening, it was deep enough to be a serious wound.”

 A tall redhead man walked in wearing a white coat that read; “Dr. Stratenburg”. “Dr. Stratenburg.” He held his hand out for you to shake, you accepted his hand and shook it.

 “Thank you so much for helping him. I had no idea what to do.”

 “You did great, the scarf and pressure were battlefield medic 101.” You smiled and the doctor’s eyes dropped to your ripped stockings and other clothing items in disarray.

 “It’s been a long night.” He smiled and nodded.

 “I can imagine. I came in here to give you your walking papers. As you’ve expressed that you don’t want to be here, we can’t keep you and honestly, I’m confident enough that you won’t keel over and die once you walk outta here.”

 “Are you sure it’s safe? He was just shanked.”

 “Shanked? How many episodes of Orange is the New Black have you watched?” You narrowed your eyes at him as a warning.

 “I’m sure he’s safe. Plus, I am releasing him into the care of someone who clearly cares for him deeply.”

 You opened your mouth to say something but you had nothing, so you snapped it shut. The doctor spoke to him about the paperwork that still had yet to be filled out and you averted your eyes. Once he went over the proper care of the wound and the dos and don’ts he wished you both luck and left. He began filling out the paperwork and your eyes went to the wound at his side again. The man took a blade to the side for you, you thought. You wondered why. You were from New York, no one did anything for nothing. Everyone had an angle.

 You felt his eyes on you and when you looked back to his face his eyes were soft. “You okay?”

 “Yeah, I’m great. Best way to spend your time in a new city—the hospital.” He smirked and nodded.

 “I’m sorry, I know getting stabbed really has a way of bringing the fun to a stop. I should have thought better.”

 “What? No, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m so sorry if it came off like that—like I’m some insensitive bitch. I didn’t mean it that way.”

 His growing smile told you he was fucking with you. “Nice.” He nodded.

 “Relax a little. If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were really worried about me.”

 Without speaking you continued to look at him. the truth was you had been worried, and scared. You looked away from him and down to your scuffed knees. You still couldn’t believe you’d been walking around like this all night.

 “All right, that should do it. the leeches know where to bill and we can get the hell outta here.” He threw his legs over the edge of the bed and slowly stood with a grunt. You rushed over to the other side and held him up to make sure he didn’t fall.

 “Be—careful.” 

Your eyes met again, and you thought about the fact that they were bluer than you’d first thought. They looked endlessly deep as if they were illuminated and beckoning you to him, daring you to let yourself fall into him and fall for him. you were tempted, you couldn’t lie. You didn’t know why especially since it had been less than twelve hours since you knew each other. You were practically strangers.

 “Eh-em.” The sound broke you both out of the moment to look at the door where a nurse stood smiling. “All set?”

 “Yep. Those are the papers, all signed,” he informed. The nurse took the clipboard and nodded as she scanned the numerous pages.

 “All right, well, we wish you a speedy recovery, come back if anything else happens.”

 “Thank you.” She smiled and bit her bottom lip at him before she turned and walked out. You snorted and shook your head.

 “Leave it to you to get flirtatious advances in the hospital at death’s door.”

 He slowly pulled on his shirt as you took up his jacket.

 “Again, I’m picky.” You held open his jacket and he groaned as he got into it. You came before him and assisted with buttoning the four oversized buttons of the wool coat. When you got to his collar you adjusted the lapels then glanced into his eyes.

 “And she doesn’t do it for you.” His eyes scanned around your face and smiled softly.

 “Not even in the least.” You smiled and looked down a little embarrassed.

 “Look, before all of this we were going to my place. You wanted me to get you out of those clothes—.”

 “I still do, white prince.” He remained still for a few moments giving you time to change your mind, but you didn’t speak again. He nodded and held out his arm to you. You looped yours with his and a smirk spread across his face.

 As you walked down the hall of the hospital the same nurse from before smiled at the two of you. “Bye Mr. and Mrs. Evans.”

 You pinched your lips and snorted unable to contain the laugh, him, on the other hand, held it together quite well.

 “Evans?”

 “It’s my last name,” he informed. You were surprised, then mulled it over in your head.

 “Huh. You don’t look like an Evans.”

 “Well, I am. One of many.” You smiled then an idea hit you.

 “Ah, new name. White prince Evans.”

 “Oh god, since getting shanked didn’t do it, you’re really trying to put me in the grave.”

 You laughed again, happy at the annoyance you were causing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[caiuscassiuss]

Bandages (Skater Boy AU! NCT Jisung)

y o u n g  v e r.

Description: You swore to god, that attractive boy who kept on coming to the nurse’s office was going to kill himself at this rate. (featuring nurse assistant! you and rebellious skater boy! jisung)

Genre:  fluff | romance | comedy WC: 5.3k Warnings: swearing and some serious roasts

masterlist | requests | updates

(A/N: I hope you enjoy! Please like and reblog~)

______________________________________________________________________

The silence of the nurse’s office was a great contrast to your loud, bustling high school outside. You were glad you got this moment of respite for 2 hours everyday, away from gossiping teenagers and the general chaos of high school.

The nurse was out for a quick break, so you were left to your own accord for a short period of time. You were her assistant of sorts for a few days of the week, selected out of many, so she trusted you in the office. You hummed to yourself as you stocked the cabinets above the sink, a little tune you heard on the radio. You put the antiseptic there, the cotton buds in a jar, and so on. Your thoughts drifted to the never-ending stress as you did your menial task; you had a biology paper due in a few days that you haven’t even started despite being assigned weeks ago, a Calc test coming up, and an anatomy extra credit assignment due that would really boost your grade. It seemed all your time was being claimed by school, school and more school, to be honest. You sighed and wiped a few stray hairs that came loose from your ponytail. All this to become a doctor.

The door creaking and loud chatter from outside broke your anxious thoughts. You told whomever that had entered you would be would with them in a minute as you quickly put back all the stuff and washed your hands. The person hummed in acknowledgement and sat down on own of the beds of the office. You turned around with a smile, only for it to be replaced with a frown.

Park Jisung.

Rebellious Skater Boy extraordinaire.

His dyed blonde hair created a messy halo above his face as he looked up at you with a sheepish smile. His eyes were sparkling and he toyed with the metal chain hanging on his neck.

“Hey Y/N, how’s it going?”

“You’re here again?”

Jisung put on a mock hurt expression and grasped his chest like you had stabbed him.

“Oof! You don’t want to see my handsome face anymore?” he grinned.

You sighed and put your hands on your hips. “What kind of injury have you afflicted upon yourself this time, Jisung?”

Jisung sheepishly held up his bleeding hand and you gasped.

“Jesus Christ! Have I not told you to be more careful?” you nagged as you got out your recently stockpiled antiseptic and swabs.

He leaned back and shrugged. “No pain, no gain, I guess.”

“Gain? Landing that front flip thingy?” you scoffed, taking out the gauze from the closet.

“It’s called a frontside Y/N,” Jisung said, exasperated.

“Front flip, front side, whatever; same thing. Either way, you come into my office looking like you just lost a fight with the concrete!” you shook your head as you bent down beside him to soak the cotton in the antiseptic. So focused were you in this task, you didn’t notice Jisung look at your visage admiringly, appreciating your beautiful features and liking the way your hair fell in front of your eyes.

“Lowkey kinda did— ah, fuck! What was that for!” Jisung exclaimed as he snatched his injured hand away from yours.

You rolled yours eyes and grabbed back his hand. His hands were warm and slightly calloused, however, marred by the many scars he had gotten from skateboarding. You ignored the little spark you got from touching his hand and went back to what you were doing.

“You big baby. A little antiseptic never hurt.”

“Well yeah of course it doesn’t, but when you just press it on my hand without warning, it stings like hell!” the teen whined as your dotted the cotton swab around the wound, cleaning the blood up and the cut.

Your rolled your eyes for the nth time and a comfortable silence fell between the two of you. When you finished cleaning his hand, you reached for the gauze and Jisung broke the silence.

“Did you finish that bio assignment Mr. Allen assigned yet?” he muttered, blushing from the prolonged contact (not that you could see).

Despite fully fitting the rebellious skater kid stereotype, Jisung was actually pretty decent at school. He took some of the same honors classes as you, and mostly got B’s while you strived for A+’s. He was always unfocused in class, unfortunately, and when he got randomly called on by the teacher and he didn’t know the answer, you shook your head disappointedly at your front seat.

“Um… kinda?” you fibbed while you carefully placed the gauze on his hand.

Jisung scoffed. “You haven’t even started it, have you?”

“Well you haven’t either!” you defended.

“Y/N, Miss A+, the greatest and most examplenary student in this school,—” he exaggerated, while you pouted, “—procrastinating? Wow, the world must be ending!”

You hit him playfully on his shoulder, momentarily letting his hand go. He laughed.

“Shut up!” you said, unable to respond to him wittily while you both blushed.

______________________________________________________________________

“You, sir, are whipped as hell,” Jeno squinted at Jisung, pointing a ketchup-covered fry in his direction.

Jisung was shaken out of his thoughts by his best friend and looked away from some point in the distant he was staring at.

“Huh?”

“This proves my point, idiot.” Jeno said, as he took a sip of his coke.

“No really, what?” Jisung asked confusedly.

“We were just stating some facts. I like EXO, Haerim is totally cheating on Yoonsung, and you have the biggest crush in the world on Y/N, you love-struck fool,” Haechan jumped into the conversation savagely, all in a matter-a-fact tone.

“Holy shit, Haerim is cheating on Yoonsung? With who?” Jaemin put his bag down at the table and sat down.

“Whom, Jaemin. Not who. With Eunhyung, actually, but that’s not the point,” Haechan narrowed his eyes at Jaemin, who rolled his eyes and dug into his pizza.

“Shut up Haechan.” Jisung pouted, while discreetly checking you out.

“I mean look at you! Everytime we go to lunch, you have to sit at this spot so you can gawk at Y/N for a solid 30 minutes. You look like a fucking creep,” Jeno exclaimed.

“I-I just can’t help but notice! Y/N’s really pretty and nice and smart and—”

“The reason you purposely slam yourself into an extension when we’re at the skatepark?” Chenle slyly added as he looked up from his book.

The whole group laughed uproariously, drawing many gazes to the notorious Skater Boys’ table. Jisung covered his red face with his hands, his embarrassment keeping him from making his usual savage comebacks. When it came to Y/N, Jisung turned into mochi mush.

“T-That’s because my wheel popped out!”

“Oh? What happened when you couldn’t stick the landing after the flatrail?” Haechan crossed his arms and raised his pierced eyebrow.

“I—”

“You’re one of the best people on the flatrail I know, bro. The one time my skateboard came out from under me you kicked me while I was down, so don’t give us that bullshit.” Renjun accused.

“Well, it’s not like it’s purposeful or anything, but, uh, like—”

“Shut up Jisung. Work up your courage to confess to her, it’s not that hard!” Jaemin offered, while sending a wink to the group of girls passing by their table.

“Says the boy who gets, like, a gazillion confessions a day. Bro, she’s out of my league! Ugh.” Jisung exclaimed and slumped dejectedly to the lunch table.

______________________________________________________________________

“What is it now?” you asked, not even looking up from your desk.

“Uh, my leg?”

You sighed and swiveled around on your comfy office chair, one of the perks of being a nurse assistant.

Jisung was wearing a neon yellow track jacket and some black skinny jeans today, some blue checkered vans adorning his feet. Your eyes zoomed in on one of the rips of the jean, placed on the knee, and it was bloody and bruised.

“Christ,” you muttered.

Again, you took out the cotton swabs and the antiseptic and the gauze while he sat down on one of the medical beds. You put the materials on the bedside table and he lifted his knee up to his attention.

Luckily was the wound was superficial and not that deep, so it would be easy to heal, but it sure as hell would probably hurt for a long time.

“So… how’s the, uh, campaign trail going?” he asked awkwardly after a moment of silence.

“You know about it? Ah, well, it’s going pretty okay, actually. We’ve drummed up alot support from the arts kids, but not as much with the athletes,” you murmured, surprised he knew that you were running for student body president. You wiped the antiseptic over his knee and his leg gave an involuntary jerk, and he gave a sheepish smile.

“Yeah, your posters all over the school.”

“Oh yeah, that,” you blushed, slightly embarrassed you didn’t notice that glaring fact in front of your slight crush. He looked so handsome today, unlike your usual clean-guy type. He looked wild and rebellious and fun all wrapped up into an attractive package.

“Well, I’m really busy nowadays. I never have time to do anything that’s mildly entertaining, like reading a good book or drawing,” you lamented.

“You call that fun?” Jisung snorted. You pouted and slapped him on his shoulder.

“Hey!”

“No no no I don’t mean it like that! It’s pretty admirable that your straightedge and everything. But… is that, like, all you do?” he frowned shifting closer to your scent.

You nervously put ointment over the wound, unnerved by his proximity.

“Well… yeah?”

“That sounds… yeah. Hey, erm, do you wanna go out with our group, one time?” he nervously twiddled his thumb as you momentarily paused.

“Why? Because I’m so boring?” it was said aggressively, but the twinkle in your eye and the slight smile gave away your mischievous intentions.

Because Jisung was Jisung and he became the living embodiment of mush around you, he didn’t notice your signs and inwardly panicked.

“No! Uh, I just thought you’d like to try something different I guess,” Jisung stuttered, flailing for some grounding around his crush.

You stared at him, hard and direct. Jisung didn’t look like he had ulterior motives. He looked back at you in the eyes, a blush still on his cheeks because of his embarrassment.

“Sure. When and where?” you smiled brightly at him, and he sighed in relief.

“I’ll text you.”

______________________________________________________________________

Honestly, you never expected you find yourself in this situation.

It was 10 at night, you weren’t studying, and you were somewhere, in the city, in a near deserted skatepark.

Your parents were going to kill you.

Well, if they found out.

“FUCK YOU, YOU THOT!” you heard a voice shouting.

You look over to see Haechan yelling at Mark, who was laughing and speeding away on his neon green skateboard. Haechan quickly sets down his orange skateboard and runs after Mark, arms and limbs flapping wildly.

On the other hand, Renjun and Chenle were playing tag around the skatepark, completely ignoring the skateboards they had brought with them. Their skateboards seemed to lie pitifully on the ground, unused while Chenle was screaming loudly. Someone was going to trip over that shit.

Jeno and Jaemin, however, were leant up against a streetlight and drinking… capri-suns? You did a double-take and looked closer. Yes, indeed they were drinking silver Capri-Sun juice packets; Jeno holding a grape-flavored one while Jaemin was slurping on a strawberry kiwi one.

Update: Someone did trip over the skateboard. RIP Haechan.

Haechan starts screaming at Renjun and Chenle, who start laughing at his disheveled appearance. Not gonna lie, you jumped a little when Haechan suddenly put them in a headlock, and the Chinese boys were looking like they were about to choke.

You hear a big sigh to your left and you turn to see Jisung facepalming in the fluorescent lamplight. He held a neon blue skateboard with green glow-in-the-dark lines etched onto the deck, still vibrant and colorful despite it’s wear-and-tear.

“Why are they like this?” Jisung sighs again.

Jaemin hears Jisung’s complaint and raises an eyebrow.

“Why do you have to be so emo, Jisung?” Jaemin taunts, the silver of his juice packet flashing as he takes a long sip.

Jeno snorts and in turn spits out some of his grape juice. The rest of the group notice the flying liquid out of Jeno’s face and start laughing at him.

Jisung, after chuckling at Jeno’s mishap, turns back towards you.

“Welp, these idiots happen to be my friends, and they’re fun... I guess.”

You chuckle softly and hug your cardigan closer to you. It was getting chillier as the night progressed, and you were admittedly, totally unprepared. You had come straight here after school clubs instead of going home, so you had nothing but your light brown cardigan to keep you warm.

Jisung sees you slightly shivering, and frowns.

“Hey, are you alright?”

You smile slightly at him.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.”

Jisung tilted his head and pursed his lips. “No you’re not.”

Before you could do anything, Jisung sets his skateboard down roughly and shakes off his windbreaker. You opened your mouth to protest, but the blond-haired youth just threw it at your head

“Just take it, Y/N,” he huffs.

Because of your blocked line of vision, you don’t see Jisung blush heavily and then pout cutely. You carefully take it off your head and clutch the fabric in your hand, confused why he was doing this.

“Just… just think of this as payback for all the times you treated me at the clinic, o-okay?” Jisung stuttered, raising his now-bare arms and scratching the back of his head. His head was turned slightly away from you, so only some parts of his face you could see.

“I… thank you, Jisung.” You grin widely up at the tall boy and slip on his neon windbreaker. It was, of course, quite large and hit you mid thigh, and the sleeves gave you very extended sweater-paws. However, you could smell his deodorant faintly from the fabric and you wanted to die in a hole.

The neon yellow of the jacket reflecting in the lamplights attracted the attention of the other boys, and they start jeering loudly.

“Damn, Jisung, it’s only the first date and you’re already giving her clothes to wear?” Mark shouts at the two of you, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“FUCK OFF!” Jisung took off running towards Mark while you covered your red face in your hands.

______________________________________________________________________

It was currently… 12 AM right now and you were confused as fuck.

The group were still energetic and high even after 2 hrs at the park, frequently exchanging high fives while passing each other on their skateboards. They all performed dazzling tricks in the artificial light and it had turned into some competition on who could impress you more. Chenle did a cool grabby thing with his board, while Jeno did a stellar flip on his and they all looked to you to see who you were impressed by.

Except, you eyes were captivated by one.

You were staring dumbfounded at the blond-haired boy who seemed like he was flying on his skateboard. JIsung looked like some character in a 90’s teenage movie, rebellious and unrestrained fun written all over his neon clothes and his gleeful face. He seemed much more in his element here, at the skateboard park, unlike school where the walls couldn’t contain his thirst for life; Jisung was so much more free.

However, you couldn’t ignore the glaring fact that Jisung was much better at skateboarding than you thought.

Okay, so you knew he wasn’t bad, but he wasn’t very good either. He comes into your office like… what, 2-3 times a week? By those statistics, Jisung should’ve been tripping over his board and currently in the hospital by now, but no, Jisung was nimbly doing tricks and runs on his skateboard. He slid down the flatrail with ease and landed perfectly before rolling to the bowl, in which he jumped and flipped his skateboard. This, clearly, was not the skating of a untrained and clumsy newbie; this was the skating of someone experienced and who doesn’t get hurt all the time.

You looked at the time on the dim screen of your phone, of which was at 19%. Despite it being the weekend, you wanted to get home quickly.

“Jisung!”

The boy’s head snapped towards you and he quickly halted his lap around the park.

“Y/N are you alright?” Jisung asked concernedly while the other boys in the group paused in their tricks.

“Yeah I’m all good! It’s just it’s getting a bit late now, I’m gonna go home!” you shouted, still clutching his windbreaker around your body.

“Wait, let me accompany you!” Jisung picked up his board and walked towards the bench you were occupying.

“Hey, morons! I’m gonna get Y/N back home, okay?” Jisung turned back to the rest of the boys.

“OOOoooOOOooOOhhHHHh sPicY!” Haechan laughed at Jisung.

“Yeah yeah we’ll follow you up as soon… as soon as we get Chenle out of this bush,” Jaemin stared, desperately trying to contain his laughter at Renjun and Jeno trying and failing to get the poor Chinese student out of the bush after his board had slipped out from under him.

“BYE THOT!” Jisung put the skateboard under his arm.

“BYE, ROMEO!”

The pair of you walked in a semi-awkward silence back to your house, the usual noises of a suburban neighborhood surrounding you.

“Uh… you got through the primaries for pres position?” Jisung asked, breaking the silence.

“Yup… after completely crushing those underclassman,” you grinned up at him, the streetlights casting shadows upon his face.

“Eyyyy nice.”

You two easily lapsed into light-hearted conversation, discussing the teachers that you hated and the gossip around the school.

There was a pause in conversation, and you took that opportunity to ask Jisung something that had been on your mind all night.

“Hey, uh, if you don’t mind me asking… how are you so good at skateboarding?”

A momentary flash of panic struck across his face, which quickly settled itself into to feigned confusion.

“Huh?”

“Like… erm, you know how you always go to my office a lot for your injuries? I just thought…” you floundered, trying to get information without somehow insulting the skater boy.

“Oh, I’m usually much worse than today,” he waved it off.

“I guess today was my lucky day, probably. I think I just perform, uh, much better in front of company?” Jisung eyes roved, searching everywhere but you.

“Ah.” It fell silent before you broke it.

“Jisung… I had a really fun time tonight. And I wanted to thank you for that,” you said, lucky that your blushing cheeks were covered by the darkness of nights.

“No problemo Y/N! I think everyone had a bit more fun with you here… you can always go out with us, if you want, you know… yeah.”

“Sure, I’ll hit you up,” you fingered with the buttons of your cardigan in nervous because of Jisung’s close proximity to you.

Pretty soon the two of you stopped near your house and you looked at each other awkwardly.

“Yeah… again, thank you for taking me out,” you stuttered, wondering whether you should hug him or not.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s all good.”

Fuck it. Let’s carpe diem this shit.

You extended your arms to the boy and a brief look of shock and panic crossed his face before he, too, extended his arms to your waist and pulled you closer. He had to bend down a little to your height, and you too held each other for a few seconds. In this brief few seconds or so, you buried your face into the crook of his neck, while he settled his head on your shoulder. Jisung was warm and comfy, and while you were initially tense, you relaxed in his hold.

You released each other and you ran to your doorstep.

“Bye Jisung! I’ll see you Monday!”

“Yeah, uh, bye!”

You entered your house quietly, before tip-toeing to your room. As soon as you sat down on your chair, you realized you had forgotten to give back Jisung’s jacket.

Shit.

______________________________________________________________________

Jisung stared at your door for a few seconds, trying to figure out whether the last few minutes was a dream or not. His body still felt warm from the time you had touched him. He must of looked like a straight idiot or a stalker, staying and staring in one position for an extended amount of time.

However, he was in a daze of confusion and happiness. Holy shit, had he just hugged his crush of the past 2 years? And… she initiated it? Holy fucking shit. Alsfskfhaslfdjsjfs.

Jisung turned to walk back to his crew and it was only a few steps until he suddenly fist pumped and jumped in the air in joy. He was getting closer.

______________________________________________________________________

“Thank you!” you had thanked the bus driver, a old sweet lady, and she smiled a red-cheeked smile at you in return. You stepped off the bus and made your way to your classroom, kind of nervous of what you were about to do. You were going to give back Jisung’s jacket.

Many people greeted you in the hallway with hello’s or good morning’s because of your popularity as soon-to-be class president, and you waved back or acknowledged them. You entered your classroom to set down your bookbag, the early morning light nearly blinding you from the windows.

“Hey Y/N!” your classmate Soora greeted you from her perch atop her desk, in the midst of talking to her friends.

“Hi Soora! How are you?” you smiled at her as you pulled the neon windbreaker from your bag.

“I’m fine! You?”

“All good!” you sent her a thumbs up.

“Say, whaddya got there?” she jumped off her desk and leaned closer to the neon object hanging of your arm.

“Oh, yeah, um, it’s someone’s jacket. I need to give it back to him,” you waved off, knowing Soora was nosy as hell.

“Hold the phone; HIM? As in the singular pronoun of the male gender? XY chromosomes? H-I-M?” she gasped loudly and as a result, several people turned their heads towards the disturbance.

“Shhhhh! Soora!” you softly scolded, looking suspiciously around and smiling at everybody so they could get their attention off of you.

“Well who is it?” Soora crossed her arms across her chest, a small pout on her tinted lips.

“No one you know,” you replied, walking out of the classroom. Unfortunately, the gossipy brunette followed you out, cutting herself out of her group’s conversation.

You took a quick pace, sneakers tapping across the floor loudly, in hope you could lose her or she would give up. No good; Soora just upped her pace to keep in line with you.

“Y/N! Tell me something!” she whined to you.

You rolled your eyes.

“You’ll find out soon anyway,” you replied as you turned a corner to Class 5275; Jisung’s Lit classroom.

The door was open, thankfully, and you quietly went in, however, people saw you as soon as you entered.

A chorus of hey’s and hello’s were given to you and you acknowledged them. You looked around the classroom to see a mop of blonde hair; aha! You could see Jisung by the window talking to a few friends, his face contorted in a laugh as Jeno cracked a joke. The sun was shining on his face and reflecting off his hair, so he looked hella handsome today.

“Jisung!” you called out. Jisung’s head snapped to you, as did many other’s.

“Y/N?” Jisung said confusedly as he got out of his seat.

“Hey Jeno! Hi Chenle!” you waved to the group of boys near him.

“Hey Y/N!” they called out and snickered as Jisung neared you. Jisung turned to glare at them.

“Uh, hi?” he greeted you as he stood in front of you.

“Jisung! I’m so sorry I totally forgot it on Saturday; here’s your jacket!” you smile as you hand him the neon windbreaker on your hand.

His eyes widened in recognition as he took it out of your hands.

“Ah! So you’re the reason I was freezing all weekend!” he smirked at you.

“Shut up! You offered!”

“And you forgot.” You slapped his bicep in retaliation, a mock-hurt expression on your face and you both laughed.

“Well anyway, thanks. I’ll see you later, I guess?” Jisung looked down at you.

“Yeah, yeah. Bye!” you patted his forearm and turned towards the doorway.

“Oh wait; don’t forget to vote for me!” you looked back at him.

“I will!” he waved back at you.

As you stepped through the doorway, you realized how semi-quiet the classroom had gotten. Most conversations had died down and all of Class 5275’s attention were on you and Jisung, eyes wide at the unexpected interaction.

Soora was waiting for you at the doorway, her mouth open in shock.

“Park Jisung? You were giving a jacket back to Park Jisung, the low-key emo skater kid who happens to be hella hot????” Soora loudly said.

“Uh, yeah? I forgot to give it back to him,” you leaned away from the eager girl.

“Wait wait wait, hold up, I’m so shook right now. First, how did you get the jacket? Where did you get the jacket? Second, how do you know Park Jisung? And his group of friends? Do you know how many people are crushing on him—”

“Calm down Soora! I was hanging out with them and I was cold so Jisung gave me his jacket, that’s all-”

“PARK JISUNG GAVE YOU HIS JACKET?!” Soora burst out in the middle of the hallway. Suprised faces turned to you, growing even more shocked when recognizing who you were. Loud whispers and conversations started up as you facepalmed at the girl’s idioticness.

______________________________________________________________________

For the next few weeks, you were bombarded in questions about your friendship with Jisung. It was a bit unexpected, you supposed; the skater kid is friends with a preppy smartass. However, the gossip surrounding you and him made you more popular, so it was beneficial to your campaign at least.

You, Jisung, and the rest of the kids hung out more as time progressed. You got together during the weekends at the skatepark, you sat next to each other in class, and shared inside jokes and memes on the groupchat you were added into. You got closer to all of them, but you were just naturally more attached to Jisung.

As the two of you hung out more, Jisung and you had become very close. He was now not some annoying skater kid who went your office nearly every other day to get his injuries treated; Jisung was a friend who you could confide in one moment, and roast in another. He was amazing and scarily, you found him more and more attractive.

Park Jisung was giving you feelings you’d never experienced before. You got butterflies in your stomach when you spoke to him, you sometimes stuttered when you were close to him, and your face was always red when you hugged him. He was funny, he was charming, and really, really fun. You couldn’t believe you never noticed him before when you were in his chem class a few years ago.

Jisung still visited your office with suspiciously less injuries since you got closer. You would chat with him while helping other patients. You asked him if he was skipping class, but he always denied it and said it was his free period so “he might as well hang out with someone he could tolerate”.

Because of your close friendship, many people asked both you if you were dating, which made it worse. You both always denied it, unaware of the longing gazes you two would send each other.

It all came to a point a few days later, when the presidential elections were announced. You had won (by a landslide it was rumoured) the position of student council president for the next school year and were in the midst of a flurry of congratulations when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“Y/N?” Jisung’s voice rang out.

You turned towards him and an immediate smile crept up your face.

“Jisung! It’s nice to see you!” you greeted, turning your attention away from your other classmates.

“Congratulations on your election!” he held his arms out, and you stepped into them so you could hug each other.

“Thank you!”

Jisung suddenly grew a bit nervous, and he scratched the back of his head.

“Uh, could you come with me for a moment? In private?” he asked.

Needless to say, you were a bit confused.

“Sure!” you waved goodbye to your friends and walked with him.

His long-legged gait led you both to the courtyard. It was sunny today, and as a result, Jisung just wore some skinny jeans and a Supreme t-shirt while you were in a floral sundress.

During the walk there, you had an inward debate with yourself. These feelings had been going on for quite sometime, and since it was nearing the end of the school year, you might as well let it out. You decided, uncharacteristically impulsively, that you were going to to confess to Jisung.

He took you under a tree and paused there.

“I have something to say,” he intoned seriously.

You took a deep breath.

“I do to.”

“Huh?” Jisung frowned.

You could do this. It was the perfect time to do it, anyway.

“Park Jisung… I like you. Like, as in more than a friend kind of like,” you let out, looking down.

It was silent for a few seconds, the only sound was the leaves rustling in the breeze.

“Well shit. Holy shit.” he breathed out in amazement.

“What?” you asked, your heart pumping from the nervousness of your confession.

“I… I like you alot too. In fact, I was going to confess to you before you said it. Wow, this is great, like, holy fuck I can’t believe this is happening.” he ran his hands through his hair.

“Really?” You jumped up and circled your arms around his neck and giggled. He hugged you back tightly.

“If we’re on the subject of confessions, I have something else to confess.” Jisung whispered in your ear.

You leaned back from him for a moment, high off the joy that your crush liked you back.

“Y/N, I have liked you since our chem class 2 years ago”— your eyes widened—” and… um…” he mumbled the last part.

“Sorry, what?”

“I may have... went to the nurse office alot so I could see you.”

Your brows came together, until your mind worked out what he was implying.

“Wait a fucking minute! Did you deliberately get injured so you could… so you could…” you sputtered, bewildered from this new information.

“Yeah?”

“Your confession is rejected, you little shit! Do you know how much supplies you took up? Also, did you keep in mind what you could’ve to your body?!” you nagged and slapped his chest and he laughed.

You two settled into comfortable silence, luxuriating in each other’s presence.

You reached up and pecked his cheek.

“Just kidding, I like you a lot, you idiot,” you smiled up at him.

Your blissful moments were interrupted by loud cheering from the bushes. You both turned to see the squad cheering, Chenle fake-sobbing into Renjun’s arm dramatically as Jeno and Jaemin spun each other around, giggling.

“My son… my son has grown up from a skateboarding little shit into a skateboarding little shit who has a girlfriend!” Haechan wiped a fake tear as he stood in front of you.

“EVERYONE! PARK JISUNG AND Y/N ARE DATING NOW!” Mark shouted to the rest of the school.

“MARK!” Jisung shouted.

Many people shouted their congratlations and cheered, while you buried your face into Jisung’s chest.

In the midst of Jisung threatening to break Mark’s board in half, he hugged you tighter.

[pi-cat000]

MSA time travel idea (part 19)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, Vivi POV, 8, 9, 10, Lewis POV, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, Lance POV 18

Part 20: here

Arthur drives continuously until he’s forced to stop for fuel. At a small roadside gas station, he grabs a breakfast bar, loads up on five-hour energy shots and uses a cramped, single-stall restroom in a brief attempt at freshening up. All his clean clothing is in his backpack, which he’s left in the motel room. Luckily, his washed-out apricot shirt and orange shorts double as daywear and aren't too worn.

Back on the road  Arthur carefully keeps his mind blank, listening absently to the radio chatter and fixating on the way stretching ahead. He deliberately doesn’t think about Vivi and Lewis and resolutely ignores the occasional buzzing of his phone, which starts seconds after his departure and continues at odd intervals throughout the day.

He wishes he could switch it off, but he needs to receive calls from Darrel, who’s been worryingly silent so far.  Thus, he’s stuck feeling guilty every time the screen lights up with an incoming call or text message. If only Vivi and Lewis would give up and decide to enjoy their time together without him. Unfortunately, his friends worry an awful lot, and he suspects that abandoning them in some middle-of-nowhere town wasn't going to help.

Maybe, when he explains a few things, stuff will get better. If Vivi and Lewis still want to be around him. He’s still on the fence about telling them to whole truth but, at this point, it’s either that or invent some entirely new lie. Arthur's so sick of lying. Honestly, he would rather spend eternity alone in his room and not interact with anyone then keep up the charade. But...no use obsessing about the future now. There will be plenty of time to figure out how he’s going to explain everything- and panic about how he’s somehow messed up the timeline - once he’s seen Lance alive and well.

Unlike the trip out, where they had lost multiple hours to rest stops, Arthur makes good time -if you could call eight hours, good time-and approaches his destination both sooner and slower than he would have liked. With one hand strangling the wheel, Arthur finally builds the courage needed to reach for his phone. There’s still been no news from Darrel, which he hopes is a good sign. At the next red light, he dials while scanning road signs for the correct exit. Nervously, he drums his fingers to the soft beat of some unfamiliar song on the radio.

Darrel answers almost immediately so Arthur is saved from waiting too long.

“Yo Arthur, was about to call, where are you man,” the other man says, sounding oddly upbeat, considering the situation.

Arthur ignores the question, quickly asking, “How’s Uncle Lance? Is he okay? What’s happening?” All that stress and anxiety he's been neglecting is now front and centre.

“Whoa,” Darrel cuts him off,  “Yeah, I was about to say. He’s in surgery, and so far there’s been no word. Like, the nurses said they were mainly concerned about blood loss. He was hooked up to a needle, like, straight away, but we waited a few hours for the surgery, so I guess that means there was no really serious internal damage.”

Arthur winces, blood loss was something he was intimately familiar with, “Anything else?”

“Both his legs had a few hairline fractures, a broken bone here and there, and the doctors mentioned surface stab wounds,” Darrel adds after a moment of thought. The other man sounds a lot calmer when compared to his almost panic on the phone earlier that morning. Arthur takes the change as a good sign.

“Right…” Arthur exhales a long breath. At least his Uncle isn’t dying. The guilt he has been carrying since leaving Vivi and Lewis still pulls at his chest and stomach, but at least things with his Uncle aren't as dire as they could be. It's still bad, but maybe he'll get out of this not having somehow caused his Uncle’s death.

“So, you said you were driving down, how far off are you?” Darrel asks after his elongated pause.

“Ah, sorry, I’m about twenty minutes out.”

“Jeez, that’s close,” Darrel remarks, surprised, “How about I meet you in the car park near the emergency ward, it’s the first turn off the main…”

“I know where it is,” He reassures, stifling a yawn. Despite multiple energy shots, he’s really feeling the strain of the last twenty-four hours, “and yeah…that sounds good.”

“You want me to get you a coffee or something dude? Cause I guess you haven’t eaten yet,”

“Coffee sounds be pretty good right about now. Thanks….Darrel.” Arthur doesn't know what he would have done had Darrel not found his Uncle when he did.

“No problemo. Not much to do except wait for the doctors to say something. I'll tell you more in person when you get here.”

“Yeah. Okay. Sounds good.”

Darrel hangs up, and Arthur tosses his phone back into the front passenger seat realising a tired sigh.  He focuses again on the road and navigating the busy streets leading into the towns moderately sized business district. By now he knows the way to St Peter’s Medical and Emergency Centre off by heart. His stomach is doing small flips, churning in a mixture of nerves, fear and anxiety. If he had never stepped foot in that building again, it would have still been too soon. All his memories of the place are linked with Lewis’s disappearance, a long and painful rebab, multiple surgeries, and Vivi’s inexplicable amnesia.

It’s just as unappealing as he remembers. Dull grey, utilitarian, and accompanied by an impending sense of dread. Arthur ignores his instinctive need to turn and drive in the opposite direction, locating the entrance to the correct car pack. It’s a small underground lot, consisting of visitor and employee parking, situated near the  Emergency Centre portion of the building.

Arthur squints when he transitions from daylight to the carpark’s dime fluorescence. The layout is such that he has to drive past the main elevator giving access to the hospital. True to word, he spots Darrel next to the collection of lifts and stairs, casually leaning against a concrete support structure, coffee in hand.

Fortunately, he doesn’t have to look far for an empty park, finding one several cars down. He exits his van a bundle of jumpy, nervous energy, fidgeting and smoothing down his wrinkled shirt as he goes. He feels he can probably get away with wearing it into the hospital. It's only seen one night of wear.

“Hey Arthur,” Darrel strolls up, giving a small wave, “How you holding up?”

“Tired from the drive,”  Arthur admits, crossing over through deserted carpark towards the other man, “How’s Uncle Lance?”

“Still in surgery last I checked,” Darrel causally shrugs. All his urgency and stress is gone to be replaced with an almost board disposition. Arthur hesitates, slightly thrown by oddly discordant temperament.

“You talked to one of the triage nurses, right?” He shakes off the uncertainty, letting worry for his Uncle occupy his full attention, “What did they say exactly. Come on, you can fill me in on the way up to…”

Arthur doesn’t get more than partway into the sentence when Darrel, who’s in the process of handing him a coffee, stumbles. The coffee spills across his shirt, splattering across his shoulder. Arthur registers the discomfort of hot liquid and Darrel’s half-hearted apology before the other man leans in and grips both sides of his head. Arthur flinches away at the unexpected proximity. Their eyes meet.

Green.

The colour is bright. Familiar. An intangible force seams to wrap about his limbs, tangling itself up in his mind, pulling him down. For a second Arthur is…

...walking down a gloomy stone tunnel. Torchlight flickers, illuminating the figer of Lewis up ahead. Lewis steps out into a spacious cavern, holding the flaming torch aloft. Arthur trips on uneven rock, hand brushing against the cave walls. Pain shoots up his limb, and he stops, staring at the appendage, confused. Had he cut himself?

“Hey, Arthur! Come check out this view!” Lewis’s call distracts him…

Arthur tries to draw a breath, preparing for a panic response, but a wall comes down like a guillotine, separating him from the physical reaction he’s expecting. His chest constricts, and then there is the buzz of adrenalin getting dumped into his system, prepping him for fight or flight. Usually, this was when he’d start breathing hard, maybe hyperventilating, but he’s been cut adrift from his body, so the onslaught comes to an abrupt halt. Of course, he still panics, but it’s a mental, internal panic, accompanied by overwhelming dread and fear.

Darrel, who has let go of Arthur’s head, stumbles back, collapsing to the ground like he’s a puppet and someone’s cut the strings. Arthur raises a hand, wiggling his fingers, rolling his shoulders and inhaling. The breathless, tight sensation immediately evaporates.

“Finally,” He breaths out and Arthur realises with growing horror that it’s not him who's doing the talking. Muscles along his arms and legs spasm experimentally also beyond his control.  

No. No. No. This isn’t him! It’s not him! Why is this so familiar?! Memories, long buried, both familiar and foreign, vie for his attention.

…“Hey Arthur! Come check out this view!” Lewis’s call distracts him.

His arm is numb now, but Arthur finds himself unfocussed, mesmerised by the patterns of light which are catching on the green, mossy walls and sharp stalagmites far below. He and Lewis are standing on a ledge overlooking a steep drop…

“Oh god,” Darrel’s voice draws his attention. The other man is scrambling back along the ground, shaking in fear. He’s scared of Arthur.

“Jesus. Oh, God!”

“Nope. No God here,” Arthur’s body comments, fixing its attention on the other man.

Darrel attempts to stand.

“Oh no. I’m not letting you go as well. Not this time,” Arthur growls, sweeping out a leg, knocking Darrel to the ground. Calmly, he walks around, stumbling briefly when one of his thigh muscles twitch suddenly. Despite this falter he still manages to kick Darrel over again, preventing him from escaping.

“Look, dude,” Darrel holds out his hands in a gesture of surrender, twisting around on his back, “I’ll give you anything. I won’t tell anyone. I swear. Just let me go. Please. I have a family, man.”

“No you don’t,” Arthur scoffs, lashing out, and stomping down simultaneously. Darrel’s head connects with the concrete giving a loud thunk. The other man falls silent and still. Disturbingly, Arthur feels his body and eyes scan the empty lot, shivering with obvious pleasure. There is no one around to stop him. Internally, Arthur claws mentally at his surroundings, flailing about, attempting to find a hold where there is none. It’s not him. It wasn’t him!

“That’s more like it,” His body talks. Arthur freezes in his panic, very aware of an increasingly overwhelming pressure focusing in upon him.

“Now, before I go dump poor Darrel somewhere, let’s take a quick look at what we have. It’s been a real run around getting you, so you better hope there’s something worthwhile banging around up here.”

Memories of the last few days unravel like an old film reel, spiralling past without his consent. Like a movie permanently fixed in fast forward they rush by. Arthur feels flashes of emotion as the scenes come and go quicker than he can register.

It all comes to an abrupt halt when it hits the moment he awoke in the past. Where Arthur transitioned between falling off a cliff to waking in his bed.

“Impossible,” The thing that’s not him mutters with his mouth.

“That’s not possible,” It sounds agitated, almost angry. The foreign presence winds its way deeper into his thoughts, pulling them apart. The flashing images start up again.

“Someone’s been breaking The Rules,”  Is the last Arthur hears before he’s lost in a sea of panic and memories. This isn’t right.

He’s made a mistake.

Note: And we’ve finally hit the crisis point or whatever this is called. What a ride.

Part 20: here

[ibelieveinahappilyeverafter]

Your Words On My Skin - Chapter 7

AO3 FFN

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Summary: Danny Fenton was born with writing on his arms that proved he had a soulmate out there for him that was much, much older than his parents were comfortable with. The result was his skin being covered as much as possible and Danny warned that he shouldn’t look at the words or write any back. Danny has always been a little bit curious as to who his soulmate was, but he never thought on how curious his soulmate was about him.

<<First Chapter>><<Last Chapter>><<Next Chapter>>

Chapter Seven

::

“So. You guys were saying something about a Christmas Truce?” Danny looked around the ridiculously large library he was in and wasn’t sure whether his Christmas was getting better or worse. On the one hand, he had been rescued from being torn to shreds by a pissed off robot. On the other hand, he was now trapped inside a crazy freaking library by ghosts. This… probably hadn’t been his best idea, really, to hide in the Ghost Zone. And what the heck was a Christmas Truce, anyways?

“Oh- Oh, yes!” Then there was this Ghostwriter guy. First glance and he looked like a nerd and Danny was so much more comfortable taking on a nerd in a fight than an angry Skulker, but then Danny was remembering the other ghost that had Skulker near running scared and he was a bit more cautious about all of this. “The Truce is one of the older traditions of the Ghost Zone. It comes from back when Christmas was still considered Yule and the changing of the seasons. Sources vary, of course, but it used to be that the truce lasted for twelve days as the old celebration did. It seems to have changed and adapted alongside the human world - which makes sense, really.”

Yeah, wow, okay. This one was a definite nerd. He wasn’t shutting up at all and just kept yapping about some stupid Christmas history. Ugh. They weren’t even walking, anymore. They were just in the middle of the stupid library with Ghostwriter talking- What kind of a name was Ghostwriter, anyways?  That was weird even by Ghost Zone standards. Probably. “-chasing you?”

“What?” Ghostwriter looked like he was ready to burst into giggles at any moment, which, yeah, that wasn’t creepy- Oh, chasing. Right. “Skulker was on the orders of Vlad Plasmius. I take it you know who that is?”

“Unfortunately.” Ah, now the ghost was acting more normal. Nice to know some other ghosts hated Vlad, too. “I didn’t take him for the type to go after teenagers with extreme force.”

“I’m special.” Then again, Danny had pissed him off more than usual, this time. How was he supposed to know those were business servers and not ghost servers! “Fruitloop will probably drop it after a few more days.” Hopefully.

“Yes, well-” Ghostwriter suddenly paused before smirking more than smiling as he looked just past Danny’s shoulder. “Have fun?”

“Mm. Technus will probably yell at me for destroying that suit, but it’s nice to be able to rip it to pieces.” Oh, jeez, that was harsh. Then again, Danny was sure Skulker was fine. Little roach could survive anything. “I don’t think he’ll be going after you anytime soon.”

“I could have handled it.” He didn’t need some crazy ghosts swooping in at the last minute to save him- Randy. Ghostwriter had called this guy Randy earlier and… That was Andrew’s brother’s name- Ah! No daydreaming. He needed to focus. “Right. If it’s safe then I can go home now, right?”

“Dunno. Can you even fly right now?” That… Hmph. At least Danny wasn’t looking between the two with narrowed eyes like this guy was doing. Maybe he was worried about Ghostwriter and that insane, giddy grin he kept getting. “How bad are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. I dodged the worst of it before you guys stepped in.” The look got worse and Danny tried to gather together just a scrap of power. “What.”

“I didn’t ask if you were hurt, I asked how bad you were hurt.” Huh. Danny wasn’t sure if he liked this dude or hated him. Ugh, reminded him of Jazz, though.

“We have first aid supplies that work well for wounds that come from a ghost fight.” Looking to Ghostwriter, Danny crossed his arms and yeah, right. Like he was ever going to buy that one. “They’re not poisonous.”

“Although we can find some that are, if you’d like,” Randy smirked, meeting Danny’s glare without a flinch. “Am I supposed to be scared of a teenager?”

“Dude, I wrecked Skulker’s shit even before you stepped in. He was barely together after my Wail.”

“That ‘wail’ left you unable to fight. Take it from me, petit mec, if you’re going to use some grand last resort power, then make sure it finishes the job.”

“Yeah, well…” Danny looked the guy over again before giving a bit of a laugh. Jeez, these ghosts were sane. This Randy or whatever really did remind him of Jazz - or maybe a combination of Jazz and Sam. Ugh, terrifying. “First aid kit?”

“It’ll look a bit weird compared to what you’re used to, but I made it all to treat the aftereffects of ectoplasmic energy. It won’t be dangerous to you. Plasmius has gotten after me to get some of it.”

“You work with Vlad.” What the hell? Just when Danny thought this one might have been cool!

“Correction, I sometimes work for him.”

“Yeah?” Danny barked out a laugh. “What’s the difference?”

“Working for him means I can betray him whenever I get sick of his shit - which is often, these days. Besides, I have to get to the human world somehow, and that ghost portal that your family has wasn’t always there.”

Hmph. Right. So cautious for now, but at least Danny wouldn’t have to worry about either of these two stabbing him in the back. Looking to Ghostwriter, who seemed to be nervously shooting looks between the two of them, Danny shook his head. Less sane than Randy, then. “First aid?”

“What? Oh- Oh! Right, yes.” Ghostwriter flapped his hands about for a moment before setting off down the hall, Danny shooting a confused look to Randy who rolled his eyes.

“I’ll be in the kitchen.” Ghosts had kitchens? Since when? “Don’t worry, Phantom. He’s not good around people, but he’ll make sure that you’re okay.”

“Right.” Danny lingered for a moment before quickly catching up to Ghostwriter, wincing as he shifted his shirt around and ah- Ah. Okay, then. He usually didn’t have scars and open wounds transfer over when he changed between Fenton and Phantom. God, what had Skulker even used this time? “So, uh, this weird first aid kit of yours any good?”

“Randy’s concoctions are made from flora that he finds around the Ghost Zone. Have you ever heard of blood blossoms?”

“Oh, um… Maybe? I think my parents mentioned it once or twice.” Some weird flower that was supposed to hurt ghosts, maybe? “Why?”

“Because that flower is one of the most well-known and, like other ghostly flowers, grows around high concentrations of ectoplasmic energy.” Oh, great. Ghostwriter was now ranting about ghost flowers just like he had been ranting about that Yule Truce or whatever it had been called.

At least the rambling wasn’t bad. His voice definitely wasn’t as annoying as some of the ghosts he had run into, and he looked to be genuinely happy rambling around the ‘living structure of a plant that thrives off the deceased-’ Wait, was he talking about graveyard flowers, now? Gross. Cool, though.

Alright, crash landing among a couple of ghosts and being unable to transform back wasn’t the best start to Christmas Eve, really, but at least these ghosts didn’t want a fight and were even helping him. Already better than the last fourteen Christmases. Shit, wait, was Ghostwriter still- Alright. Still talking. Made it easy to zone out, at least.

Shit, he should probably contact Jazz or his friends or something and let them know where he was, but… Jazz had been doing a massive study binge in her room and his friends were all with their families and he didn’t want to ruin their Christmas.

Maybe he could just stick around and check out what was up with these two ghosts and their giant library. Besides, Ghostwriter, at least, didn’t seem so bad. “-ah, we passed the room. Alright, that’s no problem, just, uh- Mm. Alright, yes, this way.”

Snorting, Danny followed Ghostwriter back the way they had come from, and, okay, the dude was weird, but he… He wasn’t bad.

::

“Jesus Christ.” Not even flinching at the startled shout, Andrew only kept a tight hold on Danny’s wrist when he tried to jerk his arm away. “What the fuck is that?!”

“A rather potent concoction of healing herbs.” Cutting off Danny’s next words with another dose of it, Andrew allowed himself a small wince at Danny’s pained expression. “Sorry. It’s… Well, put simply it’s meant to speed up the healing process by stimulating the growth-”

“Dude, English.” Oh, honestly, Andrew had been explaining it simply! How this teen could act like such a teenager and still rant about astrophysics Andrew would never know.

“You know the itching feeling you get when a cut is healing?” Waiting for the teen to nod, Andrew smirked. “This speeds up the healing factor enough that the itching feeling isn’t quite an itch anymore.”

“Is that safe? That sounds really unsafe. Maybe we should stick with the antibiotic cream and a needle, dude. Seriously, I don’t think this is the best- Ow.”

“There we go. Your arm is all taken care of!” Andrew wrapped a clean set of bandages around the arm before tying it off. “Now, I believe you still have a rather nasty wound on your back.”

“Oh, uh, not really, I mean, you’ve done enough, I’m sure that one will probably heal on its own-”

“It wasn’t a question.” Ah, the fear of a teenager caught in a lie. It really was a shame Andrew hadn’t had a chance to teach. “Come on, then. Shirt off.”

“I’d really, really, really rather not, if it’s all the same.” Dropping his hand and staring at the teen for a long few moments, Andrew finally darted out and phased the shirt off him, enjoying the indignant yelp a little too much. “What’s your problem!”

“As stated before, I’d rather not have you bleed out over my lair. Now, would you like to turn around or will I have to force you to do that, as well?”

“Jeez, and you call yourself a sane ghost.” Danny turned around on the couch they had tucked themselves away on, medical supplies currently scattered about because Randy had no idea of what organization meant. “It’s probably not that bad.”

“A wise lesson to know is when pushing yourself causes more harm than good.” Ignoring the muttered complaints from the other, Andrew’s eyes widened as he saw Danny’s back. “Well, would you like the good news or bad news first?”

“Bad news. Definitely bad news.” Resting his finger tips on some of the skin that didn’t look like it was torn to shreds, Andrew frowned at Danny’s flinch. “Well?”

“The bad news is that you were very much wrong about being ‘fine.’ It seems whatever he used to hit you is… Well, I would best describe it as skin being dragged across hot pavement for two or so blocks.”

“That’s… I mean, you could just take a picture and show me? Because that description probably makes it sound worse than it is, right?” Mm. If anything, that was Andrew being kind. “Okay. What’s the good news, then?”

“I was right.” Easily dodging the attempt to hit him, Andrew nudged Danny back into place and reached for some of the more potent of Randy’s poultices. “This… This is going to hurt.”

“Hurt? How badly hurt?” Well… “I don’t like the way you just went quiet.”

“Just… Try to stay still.” Mentally apologizing already and making plans to spoil Danny as much as possible later, Andrew began spreading the poultice on. It barely touched the teen’s skin before he went absolutely ridged, breath becoming ragged and loud.

Trying to keep his hand steady as he spread it across the torn and burned skin, Andrew started to speak softly about anything and everything he could. As much as he wanted to hug Danny close to him to soothe him, right now Danny saw him as nothing but a strange ghost he had just met. So, Andrew would soothe him in another away.

Danny had always loved the glimpses of his stories, so Andrew rambled and talked and slowly drew Danny out of his pained battle high - Lord knew that Andrew had enough practice with doing the same to Randy and with Randy doing the same to him.

It took longer than he would have liked, but Andrew was soon wrapping Danny’s back in bandages, careful to not make them too tight or too loose. Even with Randy’s excellent poultices, it would still take a while for this one to heal over. Poor thing.

“There we are. You should be back to rights in no time at all.” Pushing everything back into the first aid kit, Andrew paused as he saw Danny was looking down at his arms with a scrunched-up expression. “Are you alright? Does it hurt elsewhere?”

“What? Oh, uh, no.” Danny curled his fingers in, eyes darting to where written words were peeking out from under the bandages and oh- Oh! His sweet little mate. “It’s nothing.”

“Mm.” Andrew looked away for a moment before looking back and smiling. “I’m certain you can explain to your soulmate later what happened if you miss any messages.”

“That obvious?” Danny was blushing sweetly and hiding a smile, Andrew near overwhelmed with the affection he felt for his mate in that moment. “We just, uh… We haven’t really met, yet, so we rely on the writing more than anything, you know?”

“I understand that rather well, I suppose,” Andrew chuckled, feeling a touch of guilt that he hadn’t written back to Danny sooner, but… He could make up for it now. He could easily make up for it now.

“Yeah, and he- I mean, he says he doesn’t believe in technology!” Oh, dear, he was still sore about that, then. “Who doesn’t believe in technology- I mean, you’re a ghost and I bet you have a phone!”

“I- No?” At the horrified look, Andrew couldn’t stop his laugh. “It’s the Ghost Zone, mon cher.” Danny wrinkled his nose at the French, but luckily it seemed he didn’t know what it meant. Good. Andrew could have fun with that. “Cell phones don’t work in here, something I believe Technus is working on fixing, but for the moment, I’m afraid we’re rather without connection.”

“That’s why I never get any messages when I’m in the Ghost Zone! I thought my friends were just ignoring me.” Oh, goodness. This teen was utterly precious. “Actually, that explains why Sam was so mad at me that one day I got lost in here for a few hours. Damn.”

“A shame, but the Ghost Zone doesn’t have cell towers,” Andrew grinned, watching Danny huff and pout and get distracted by his bandages.

Andrew swallowed and… Danny was safe and smiling and tracing the words with his fingertips and this was- This was good, wasn’t it? This was the best. Danny was- His Danny was Danny Phantom. The teen was half-ghost and…

He would understand everything. Andrew’s age, the reason his words had shown up when he was so young, and why Andrew had been so afraid to try and connect with him. This… This was the best outcome Andrew could have asked for.

“D… Danny?” The teen looked over to him curiously, a frown tugging at his lips and curiosity almost drowning out the wariness in his eyes.

“What’s up?” All he had to say was his real name and Andrew was certain that everything would click into place and Danny would know in an instant who he was- Or at least, it wouldn’t take much more than his name and he would know. “You alright?”

“I…” This was the best he could have asked for and now, after so many years, his mate was in front of him and all he had to do was- “Would you like something to eat? Randy’s a rather good cook.”

“Oh, uh… Is it safe for humans to eat ghost food?” Danny gave a wary smile, Andrew standing up with a quick nod.

“Of course. Much of what he makes comes from supplies he gets in the human world. I’ll go see what he has made, so far.”

“Alright?” Danny watched him with an odd little look before his smile became a bit more real. “Thanks. For… you know.”

“Of course.” This was the best he could have hoped for, so then why was Andrew still so scared?

::

“Are you really gonna be alright with me staying here for a few hours? I mean, don’t you and that one guy have Christmas plans or something already?” Danny had finally managed to get his shirt back on and was now sitting on Ghostwriter’s stupidly comfortable couch as the ghost flew back and forth in dizzying little circles. Jesus, this guy was more hyped up than he was on a bad day.

“My brother and I are fine, Danny.” Brother, huh? Weird to think Ghostwriter had a brother named Randy, too, but Danny guessed that was a pretty common name. It was actually more weird to think ghosts had siblings. “Besides, you make a great excuse for me avoiding that horrid Christmas Truce party that the ghosts throw every year.”

“Ghosts throw parties?” That… Actually, after meeting Kitty and Ember, Danny could kind of believe that easily enough. “Cool. So, it’s fine, then?”

“Yes, Danny, it’s fine.” Ghostwriter paused before disappearing and reappearing a second later, Danny startling as a blanket was thrown over him. “There we are.”

“Uh huh.” Jesus. This guy was treating Danny like he was an abandoned puppy off the streets. “I guess staying here works pretty well for me, too. A place to hide out from Skulker is nice.”

“Will any of your friends or family worry about your absence?” Ghostwriter had hardly finished the question before Danny was laughing.

“Are you kidding? No one’s gonna notice I’m gone until the twenty-seventh at least. Christmas… isn’t such a great time of the year for me.”

“I suppose I understand how that feels.” Really? Yeah, right, yeah, of course. A few too little presents was probably the worst thing to ever happen in the history of the world.

“Nothing that’s happened to you on Christmas can be as bad as being peed on by a dog.” Seeing the other open his mouth, Danny narrowed his eyes. “As a baby.”

“Alright.” Ghostwriter crossed his arms and smirked and oh, no. “I was once shot in my shoulder on Christmas.”

“Like… Like with a paintball gun, or-”

“My brother had to dig the bullet out of my shoulder before we could wrap it.” Jesus Christ, this dude wasn’t messing around, was he?

“Okay. That’s a pretty good one. But have you ever had mad scientist parents bring the Christmas turkey to life?” The odd, disbelieving look he was given had Danny convinced he was going to win.

“I’m afraid not.” Ha! “Although I did spend one Christmas in an eight-hour church service. No food, no water, and no singing.”

“Fuck, okay, you win, Jesus, it’s not a competition, man.” Maybe it was the whole scientists as parents thing that had made him shy away from religion, but the idea of spending eight hours in a church service like that? Ugh.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to hear about some of my other Christmases?” Ghostwriter was grinning in obvious victory, Danny doing his best to not laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, no need to be a sore winner.” Maybe having another ghost as a friend wouldn’t be that bad. The two obviously were pretty okay if they jumped in to help out some random guy they didn’t even know in a fight. “How’s that cooking of your brother’s coming along, then?”

Ghostwriter sighed, looking exhausted. “There are times where he’ll scrap everything halfway through if he feels like he’s not doing a good enough job. I should probably go to try prevent that now, honestly.”

“Jeez, have fun with that.” Waiting until Ghostwriter laughed, Danny wiggled around in the blanket that had been thrown on him before managing to grab the first aid kit left behind, quickly opening it before finding some disinfectant wipes.

Tearing a few open, Danny took the chance to properly wash off all of the ink on his skin - or at least, wipe it all off as well as he could. He still needed to apologize, but… It didn’t seem like Andrew had written him back, yet. Not even a heart or frowny face or anything.

Jeez… Andrew was probably still angry at him for how hard Danny had pushed to try and find out his age. Maybe… Maybe it would be better to wait until Andrew wrote to him first? Let him set the terms and all that? After all, they had gone through fifteen years of silence before - Andrew even longer. Andrew would be okay ignoring Danny for a while.

Playing with the pen that had survived Skulker’s attacks, Danny finally uncapped it and drew a cluster of stars on the inside of his wrist before putting a heart around each one. That… That was something, right?

Dropping his arm and just staring at nothing for a few moments, Danny finally nodded, and, right. “I’m going to die alone.” Sighing, Danny capped his pen and drew the blanket over his head. “I’ll die alone with my friends arguing at my deathbed.”

“I believe the fact your friends will be there arguing will negate the possibility of you dying alone.” Damn Danny’s poor timing and his stupid habit of speaking out loud. “The actual food will be ready in another hour or so, but would you like some cookies?”

“Oh, uh, no thanks. I’m not that hungry, really.” Letting the cover fall back to rest on his neck, Danny looked to see that Ghostwriter had set a tray of chocolate chip cookies on the small end table next to the couch. He was pretty sure he saw steam, which meant they were fresh. “Thanks, though.”

“It really is no problem. Randy’s taking over the kitchen with his baking and I’m afraid that leaves little room for my things in there,” Ghostwriter laughed, finally sitting down on the couch. He still looked wound up and nervous, but he also seemed a little better. “How are you doing?”

“I mean, my back still kind of burns, but I figure that’s better than whatever the other outcome would have been. Thanks for that, by the way.” Because most people shied away at the sight of stuff like that and Ghostwriter hadn’t even seemed to notice some of the scars Danny had. It… It had actually been pretty nice.

“The sooner you deal with the pain now, then the sooner you can forget about it later.” Ghostwriter made an odd flicking motion, Danny’s eyes widening as he saw a cookie float over to him. “That’s a rather unique look on your face-”

“Dude, ghosts can levitate shit?” Danny looked between Ghostwriter and the tray and holy shit. “That’s so cool!”

“You… You didn’t know that?” Ghostwriter looked honestly surprised, Danny thinking about it and finally just shrugging.

“I mean- I’ve seen Box Ghost and his stupid boxes, but I figured that was because it was his power, you know? Moving boxes around?”

“I- In a way. Some ghosts find levitation rather easy and others rather difficult. I suppose it depends on the ghost, their power, and their obsession.” Obsession?

“Why do you say obsession like it’s a thing?” At the pained look, Danny snorted. “Hey, I didn’t exactly get a ghost education to go along with the powers.”

“Well… If you plan on staying here a few more hours, then I can answer some questions you have, if you’d like. I can give you a quick crash course in all things ghostly.”

“R… Really?” He had been trying to discover all of this out on his own and it was that easy to get someone to finally tell him some of this stuff? Like, yeah, okay, Clockwork had that whole wise mentor thing going on, but he was more for world ending stuff, but this? Finding someone to teach him the little stuff? That was…

“I… Yeah. Sure. That- That’s fine.” Danny quickly grabbed a cookie to try and hide the grin that was taking over, taking a large bite before pausing and staring at the cookie with wide eyes and holy shit. Holy shit. “Dude. How do you even make cookies like this?”

As Ghostwriter laughed loud and bright, Danny looked up to him and… A friend, huh? Danny could see it. He could easily see it- Really. If the guy made cookies like these, rambled like Jazz, and was willing to teach Danny a few things about the Ghost Zone, then how bad could he be?

Looking back down, Danny paused at seeing a few quickly scribbled hearts next to his own and oh- Oh. That… Hiding his beaming grin with another cookie, Danny had a feeling that this Christmas was starting to look up.

::

“And that’s why you should never ever go to the circus ever.” Laughing at that, Andrew decided that this was easily his most delightful Christmas, yet. Not only was he able to avoid that stupid Christmas party, but he had his mate happy and safe in his lair and laughing as he told story after story to try and match the ones Andrew told him. “I mean, seriously, that staff of his controlled ghosts. Dude was crazy.”

“At least you no longer have to worry about dealing with him,” Andrew chuckled, levitating another cookie over and hiding a grin as Danny watched with wide eyes. Even after explaining how levitation was done, Danny was still utterly delighted and fascinated by the concept. It was, in his words, ‘like something out of Harry Potter.’

“Yeah, no, dude’s probably locked up tight in a padded cell somewhere.” Danny grabbed another cookie himself, Andrew hiding a laugh when the teen near squirmed with how happy he now seemed. It was precious. “He better be, at least. I mean, dude was crazy.”

“Most likely it was where no one ever believed him about the power he could use,” Andrew mused. That would certainly make a great story idea. A man with power that no one believed in, but oh, he could make them believe- Dammit, of all the times he needed to write something down and he couldn’t- Actually, perhaps he could.

“I mean I guess. Ghosts kind of don’t really exist outside of Amity Park, I think. It has to do with the energy of the Ghost Zone and all of that.” Absently nodding along to his mate, Andrew tried to remember exactly where Danny’s bandages on his arm were placed as he pushed his sleeve up and quickly wrote down the idea before it vanished. “Uh, dude?”

“Hm?” Seeing Danny’s unamused look, Andrew gave a weak smile. “Sorry. I have a bad memory and if I don’t write things down when I can, I tend to forget them.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, that’s fine.” That… Odd. It almost seemed like Danny had been jealous for a moment or two. “My soulmate’s like that. He’s always writing down these ideas for stories he has.”

Finishing with a flourish, Andrew let his sleeve fall back into place as he capped his pen. Hopefully Danny hadn’t seen enough of his handwriting to find it familiar. “You were telling me about this… Freakshow?”

“Ugh, yeah, just his name is bad,” Danny grumbled, sticking his tongue out and causing Andrew to fight against a laugh. “I don’t know. After the last couple of fights I’ve had he just… doesn’t seem like much of a threat, anymore.”

“I can understand that. Once we face the worse, then everything before it seems like child’s play.” While Andrew was thankful that Danny could still act like a teenager, he… His smile wasn’t that of a fifteen-year-old’s. At least, not a normal one. It was a smile full of battle and stories he would take to his final grave and oh, his sweet mate. His past was one that was all too familiar to Andrew. “At least some of the ghosts you’ve managed to reason with, it sounds like.”

“Ugh.” Danny groaned as he reached for a few more cookies and oh, dear, Randy would complain that he was spoiling Danny’s appetite, but, well. He deserved a bit of spoiling. “I keep getting used for relationship advice when it comes to Johnny and Kitty and it’s like dude! What do I know about relationships!”

Smiling as he listened to Danny’s rambling, Andrew felt that smile slowly fall and he should… He should tell Danny who he was. It wasn’t right that Andrew knew his soulmate was sitting right in front of him and Danny… Goodness. Danny probably felt that he would never get to meet his mate. It wasn’t right that Andrew kept this secret to himself, but what if Danny didn’t want a ghost as a mate?

The teen’s life was already filled with ghosts day after day and he probably wanted nothing more than to have one aspect of his life be normal. Besides, they- They were getting along. They were becoming friends and that- That was good. Andrew could become Danny’s friend first and they could start something without having to worry or rely on the fact that they were soulmates. That would make it all the better, wouldn’t it?

Danny… Danny had kept his silence for fifteen years, so Andrew could keep his own silence for a while, couldn’t he? Just until he could figure this out and find a sensible way to approach it-

“Alright, lunch or dinner or whatever you wanna call it is almost done. Hey, Ghostwriter, can I see you for a second in the kitchen.” It wasn’t a question and the fact Randy had called him by that name meant that he was certainly going to get yelled at.

“Of course. Otherwise we might be here for another hour more.” Standing up, Andrew gave Danny a smile. “Feel free to have the rest of the cookies if you can manage it. They are rather rich.”

“Dude. You made that a challenge on purpose.” Laughing as Danny dragged the plate closer to reach the cookies, Andrew smiled and this… This was how he always wanted to remember his soulmate. Happy and safe and wrapped in a blanket as he grinned at being allowed to have as many cookies as he wanted.

Sighing to himself and following Randy, Andrew had a very bad feeling over what Randy would want to talk about. In private, no less! No doubt it was- “So, baby brother.” Ooh, it was bad. It was very bad and now Randy’s hand was on the back of his neck and dragging him down and oh, he did not look pleased. “Let’s talk, shall we?”

“Shouldn’t we be focusing on ‘lunch or dinner or whatever you want to call it?’” At the dark look, Andrew gave a weak grin. “You’re my favorite?”

“Really?” Randy let him go and crossed his arms and shifted in just the right way to let Andrew know that if he tried to leave he would be chased down mercilessly. “Explain. Now.”

Instead of explaining his perfectly sound reasoning and logic, Andrew stared at Randy and tried to figure out the best way to escape. “What would you like me to explain?”

“Why you seem to believe I’m an idiot who’s both deaf and blind.” Ah, well- Randy grabbed Andrew’s wrist and flipped it around, so the scribbled hearts and stars were in plain view. “You haven’t told him.”

“And who says I’m not working up to it?” Which he was. Slowly. Very, very, very slowly, but he was working up to it! In a way. “This- I never expected this to happen.” He had never even thought to give hope to the ridiculous idea that his mate - that Danny was half-ghost.

“You mean a miracle which you seem to be pretending isn’t there? You already know and he already seems to like you, so why haven’t you told him?”

“I… I feel like maybe it would be better if I didn’t. We can start by being friends. Wouldn’t that be better?” Oh, dear, Randy did not look pleased with him. “I’m going to tell him, just not… quite yet-”

“Andrew. Your mate is sitting out there on that couch with no knowledge of who you are. You can’t explain-”

“Mate?” Andrew saw Randy stiffen at the exact moment he did and oh, they had let themselves get far too emotional if they hadn’t even noticed the sweet little thing lurking in the doorway with narrowed and distrustful eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“I-” Andrew quickly looked to Randy and read a million different things in his eyes before he sighed and looked back to Danny. “The name Ghostwriter isn’t my real name.”

“Uh, yeah, I figured. I mean, unless your parents really hated you, I doubt they’d give you a name like that.” Oh, Danny. Always making jokes to help the tension. None of them laughed. “Why were you talking about mates.” It wasn’t a question.

“Well, it’s because… My name isn’t Ghostwriter.” There was no other way around it. Andrew was terrified, but… His mate would know who he was. Wasn’t that a good thing? “It’s-”

“Andrew?” Oh, Danny.

“Hi.”

[selfignitingimagines]

Isaac- It Scares Me Sometimes

Request-  Can u do an imagine where isaac and the reader are besties and the reader tells him shes in love with him but hes scared to ruin the friendship but then during a pack fight the reader almost dies and isaac tells the reader he loves her

A/N- Sorry I’ve been MIA lately. I’ve been working on Shake It Off (which the first chapter of is almost finished!!) and been busy with school. Enjoy!

“What’s that one?” Isaac asked you, pointing to the stars above you. You were camped out on the roof of your house with your best friend by your side, picking out the constellations. Normally you would have been inside watching a movie for your friday night hangout, but it was getting warmer, so you had pulled him out the window, nearly giving him a heart attack. “Ursa Minor,” you explained. “What’s it supposed to be?” “A bear,” you told him, pulling your thin cardigan tighter around your shoulders. Isaac glanced over at you, his blue eyes concerned. “Are you cold?” “A little.” “Come here,” he said, holding out an arm. You swallowed and wiggled closer, pressing up against his warm side as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. He leaned down closer, talking softly in you ear and unknowingly allowing his breath to tickle your cheek. “How is that supposed to be a bear?” “It’s from a myth,” you said. “Something about a bear and a jealous goddess. At least I think so. Stiles would know the whole thing.” “Since when do you spend time with Stiles?” “Well I had to find someone to entertain me while you were in France for a year.” “Y/n,” he said quickly. “You know I-” “Relax,” you told him softly. “You know I don’t hold that against you. You did what you had to do.” “So while I’m gone my best friend replaces me?” “Temporarily,” you told him with a grin. “But you’re back, so it doesn’t matter now.” Isaac smiled, raising his eyebrows at you. “Don’t act like you didn’t miss me.” “Mm, I don’t know,” you said, pretending to think. “I mean, like, sometimes I noticed you weren’t around, but-” “Y/n!” he whined. “You are so mean to me.” You laughed. “Cry about it Lahey.” Still laughing, you wriggled out from under his arm, heading back toward your open window. “Where are you going?” “Oh I don’t know,” you told him. “I was thinking I might go find Stiles and ask him about the-” You shrieked as Isaac’s arms wrapped around you from behind, his fingers dancing across your ribs. “Ah! Stop!” Isaac paid no mind to your half-hearted protest, and soon you were on your back on the roof, squirming as he tickled you. “Okay! O-okay! Jesus, I-I was kidding!” Isaac chuckled and pulled his hands away, placing them on either side of your head. “That’s what you get.” “You are so cruel,” you whispered breathlessly. “You’re cruel,” he fired back. “Ditching me for Stiles. As if I could ever live without my best friend by my side.” “I was just going to leave,” you said with an eyeroll. “I mean, not really, but what if I had?” “My heart would break,” Isaac told you seriously. “You’re a dork,” you said, moving to get up. You thought Isaac would understand and move away, but you found yourself rising and almost headbutting him. “S-sorry,” you stuttered, well aware of how close you were. Isaac shook his head slightly, not saying anything, and glanced down at your lips. As if pulled forward by the gravity of the moment, you suddenly leaned in and pressed your lips to hiss, having no idea what you were doing. Isaac melted into you for about two blissful seconds, and then he suddenly jerked away as if you had stabbed him. His blue eyes had taken on a wild, terrified quality, and you flinched. “Isaac? What’s wrong?” He backed away from you, suddenly feeling trapped on the tiny roof. “We...we shouldn’t have done that.” “Oh, okay, sorry,” you said quickly, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. “That was my bad, you don’t have to-” “I’m gonna go,” he interrupted, glancing down at the ground. “I need to go.” “-worry about it,” you finished softly, but he was already jumping straight off your roof. You watched him hit the ground with grace and take off down the street, jogging away as if he wasn’t leaving you behind. A sick feeling began to wash over you, heavy and dreadful in your gut, and you fought the urge to cry. “What the hell did I do?” you wondered to yourself, but you already knew the answer. You had just ruined everything.

“Lydia, I don’t know what happened,” you told her the next day, trying to fight tears in the passenger seat of her car. “I do,” she said. “You kissed him, he freaked, and then didn’t know how to respond and just left.” “He hates me,” you groaned. “God, he’s my best friend, and he hates me.” “He doesn’t hate you,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Anyone can tell he’s adored you for years.” “As a friend.” “As more,” she insisted. “And honestly, do you think the best time to talk about your relationship problems is right before we go into battle?” “Now or never, right?” you asked. “I guess so,” she said with a sigh. “He probably just didn’t know how to react. I mean, maybe he was worried about ruining your friendship.” “I think I have that part covered,” you grumbled. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself,” she scolded. “Isaac will get his head out of his ass eventually. For now, we can try to save Mason from crazy werewolf-druids.” You nodded, and sobered up at the thought of what was to come. The sacrifice Scott, Stiles, and Allison had made over a year ago had woken up the nemeton, which was now acting as a Beacon for every kind of supernatural creature imaginable. It had drawn things to Beacon Hills, one of those things being a pack of werewolves who were heavily involved in some ancient occult practices. It just so happened that these practices were neither peaceful nor friendly, and not the kind of thing you wanted in your quiet hometown. After Lydia dug up some old text claiming that cult power could be drawn from sacrificing an advisor of a local pack, the pack had rushed to protect Deaton, not realizing that Mason had been a pretty vital advisor himself. Scott knew that this whole thing, meeting them in the woods to “negotiate”, was probably nothing more than a trap, but if things ended badly, you figured you could all fight just your way out of it. That was how most of your plans ended anyway. “Okay,” you told Lydia. “I can do this. This is about saving Mason.” “Right,” Lydia chirped. “And you don’t even have to look at Isaac. Besides, it shouldn’t take long, and then we can focus on you.” You nodded, wholeheartedly believing her words as you headed toward the preserve. Unfortunately, they couldn’t have been farther from the truth. “Y/n, get Lydia out of here!” Scott roared to you. You ducked a blow from a druid and darted your eyes toward the Alpha, but he was already wrapped up in a fight of his own. You snapped your leg up and kicked the druid in the face, all the while scanning the forest for Lydia. The whole clearing was alive with chaos. Stiles and Liam were going two on one with claws and a bat a few feet away from you, and over by the giant tree stump, Mason was struggling to break the rope around his wrists and ankles. Malia was brutally breaking the arm of a druid close to Scott, but another one was headed right for her. Isaac was fighting hand to hand with one too, but every spare second he got, his gaze would flick to you. You finally found Lydia, and you heaved a sigh of relief. She was limping from a cut on her leg, and backing away from a curly-haired druid with glowing yellow eyes. You sucked in a sharp breath and pulled a knife from your boot, sending it flying toward her. It hit her square in the back, apparently in the perfect place, because she dropped to the ground in a heap. You landed another hit to the guy you were fighting, hard enough to cause him to drop to his knees, and then you ran. You headed toward Lydia, breathing heavily, and snatched her by the arm. “So much for not taking so long.” “Poor choice of words,” she remarked weakly. “Come on,” you ordered, pulling her to toward the cover of the trees.   You hurried as fast as you could, but a sharp, tearing pain in the side of your leg caused you to scream. You dropped to the ground, almost taking Lydia with you as you clutched at the arrow in your leg with shaking hands. “Y/n!” Lydia cried. “Go!” you shouted at her, yanking the arrow out of your leg. Normally you never would have pulled it out. Arrows did more damage going out than they ever could going in, but if you were going to fight the druid coming toward you with a crossbow, you had to be able to move. “But-” Lydia protested, her green eyes wide. “I said go!” She took off limping through the trees, thankfully out of view of the druid. You stood up, gritting your teeth against the burning pain in your leg and cracking your knuckles. The druid who had shot you, a tall woman with blonde hair and a sick grin, walked toward you. You expected her to come closer and start fighting, but instead she pulled the trigger on the crossbow. You gasped as you felt the arrow going into your stomach, and you looked down in shock. Your fingers moved to the wound, soon staining red with the blood pooling through your shirt. You dropped to your knees, just as you heard someone scream your name. Isaac was running toward you, having knocked out his own adversary, and he took down the woman who had shot you in about two seconds. You heard the distant snap of her neck as you slowly slid to the ground. You were lying on your back when Isaac loomed into your vision, crying out your name frantically. “Y/n?! Y/n?!” “I-I’m sorry,” you managed to choke out. “I ru-ruined e-everything.” “No,” he whispered, placing his hand over your bloody, trembling one. “You didn’t. You didn’t. I was the one who ruined things. Please, Y/n, just-just...Y/n?” But he didn’t get to finish what he was saying. You wanted to listen, to hold onto the hope that maybe he was right, and maybe you hadn’t lost your best friend, but you felt yourself fading. You knew you were losing a lot of blood, and you just couldn’t stay awake anymore. You drifted off listening to Isaac’s frantic voice, and the last thing you saw was his terrified, blue eyes staring down into yours. You were dying of thirst. That was your first thought when you opened your eyes, and when you tried to take a dry, choked breath from where you lay in your hospital bed. “Lydia-” you croaked, your eyes landing on her pale face. She sucked in a breath and jumped out of her chair, grabbing for a pitcher of water and a cup from the nightstand. She quickly filled it and placed it in your shaky hands, and you took a large gulp. “Thanks,” you whispered, shooting her a soft smile. “You scared the hell out of us!” she cried, softness empty from her voice. “What the hell were you thinking?” “I was thinking I would fight for my life,” you told her, cocking an eyebrow. “Is Mason okay?” “Yeah,” she breathed. “Isaac slipped out of there before they saved him and found me by the cars. God, I can’t even imagine how I looked when I saw you in his arms. You didn’t even look like you were alive.” You swallowed. “And the others?” “They managed,” she told you. “It also helped that I called Satomi, and her whole pack showed up to help.” “That’s awesome,” you said with a grin. “Liam wasn’t too happy that Brett helped save his best friend’s life, but I’m sure he’ll get over it.” “So...where’s Isaac?” “He’s pacing outside in the hall, probably listening to everything we’re saying.” You frowned. “Why?” “He feels guilty,” she explained. “He thought he made you hate him.” “Hate him? Why would I hate him? He can’t help how he feels.” “See, that’s the thing,” Lydia continued. “He doesn’t actually-you know what? He should explain this to you.” She sighed and stood up. “I’ll be back later.” “Wait, Lydia-” you protested, but she was already heading out the door. If you listened carefully, you could hear her talking quietly, and then, you didn’t need to listen at all. Her angry voice rang out through the door, clear as a bell. “What the hell is wrong with you?” you could hear her demand. “Go talk to her, you idiot!” Seconds, later, a sheepish looking Isaac shuffled in, flashing you a small smile. You sat up, letting out a hiss of pain, and he was instantly by your side. He placed his hand over yours, veins turning black as he took your pain, and you sighed. “You don’t have to do that you know,” you told him. “I want to,” he said softly. “I hate seeing you in pain. You know that.” You were silent, and you looked away, pretending that the threadbare hospital sheets were a lot more interesting than his guilt-ridden face. “Y/n,” he whispered. “Please, look at me.” You glanced up. “Isaac, you don’t have to-” “I’m not going to say anything I don’t want to say,” he cut you off. “The other night...I freaked. I’ll admit it. When you kissed me, it wasn’t like I didn’t want you to do it, but I realized that if it went that far, it could go farther. What if we dated, and then-and then we broke up? I’d lose you, Y/n. I’d lose my best friend.” “You were scared of losing me, so...you ran away?” you asked. Isaac looked away. “Seems like I do that a lot.” You sighed. “Isaac, I’m not mad at you.” “You’re...you’re not?” You shook your head. “I’m not. I just...I want you to tell me how you really feel.” Isaac sank down on the side of your bed. “Okay. I’ll tell you. When I ran away from you that night, I was scared, but not as scared as I was when I saw you with that arrow in your stomach. I was terrified, Y/n. I thought you might die, and that if you did, you’d die thinking that I didn’t love you. But I do love you. I love you so much that it scares me sometimes.” You stared up at him, speechless at his words. You had spent years imagining all the ways Isaac could tell you how he felt, never once believing that it would actually happen. Yet here you were, sitting in that hospital bed, listening to him gush about the things you had always dreamed about. “Isaac-” Before you could finish, he reached out and tilted your mouth up toward his, and pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. Whatever you were planning on saying flew straight out of your head, and you closed your eyes as his fingers roamed over your cheek. When you opened your eyes and parted, a smile graced your lips. Isaac tucked some hair behind your ear, and kissed the top of your head. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you against his chest, tucking your head under his chin. “Isaac?” you whispered, causing him to pull away and glance down at you. “Yeah?” “Me too,” you told him, snuggling back into him. “I love you too.”

[ocuk-dnd-5e-blog]

Session 4 - 10/08 - Kuldjargh

Participants Dave N - DM Alex D – Fyvel – Fighter Stu – Hendel – Barbarian Dan – Darvin – Sorcerer Dave R – Galath – Ranger Andrew – Eriden – Druid John – Dwon Fai – Monk Missing Alex H – Chance – Bard Standing atop a pile of recently departed foes the group rested and picked through the treasure that was now theirs. “You know how I said I was pretty certain it was a sword?” Galath mused to the group. “I think it’s actually an axe.” “It’s an axe!” Hendel perked up at this “I’ll have it, I like axes!” (DM Note; I may have made a last minute adjustment to what the magical item was to benefit the party, alternatively they may not know the difference between a sword and an axe. I will let you make a judgment call on that) As the party were debating the differences between a sword and an axe a figure walked up the corridor, it was Dwon, looking hale and hearty. “Ah, nice to see you with your blood on the inside.” Quipped Darvin as Dwon arrived. As he settled in Chance emerged from the crevasse with the remains of the town woodcarver who “he would return to the town for a proper burial.” And with that he disappeared out of the cave. The group made a brief search of the hidden chamber which had been emptied by their recent butchery turning up a few trinkets and even more gold which they passed on to Darvin for safe keeping. Heading into the northernmost chambers Eriden came across a secret door on the right of the chamber at the same time that Hendel found one on the left and, to open it, bashed it with his axe. “Jesus Christ” someone in the party muttered to Hendel’s annoyance (DM Note; rather than debating the existence, or not, of a particular sky fairy in Faerun I was too amused by the comment to either challenge it or get a note on who said it.) “are we going down here” Eriden asked nodding his head to the door to his right but before anyone could say anything Hendel had blundered through his own door, down a flight of stairs, through a second door to be confronted by a seated figure carrying a Glass Staff (DM Note; Hendel may not be the quickest on the uptake) “Who are you he demanded” In response the figure grabbed his staff but before he could react Hendel fell into his familiar trope of trying to stab him. Landing him two solid axe blows and sending him reeling, bleeding profusely the figure muttered a few words and disappeared from before Hendel, reappearing across the room in front of a door which he fled out of screaming for help. In response three Ruffians charged in and stabbed Hendel a few times, one of the leaping acrobatically atop a table to do so, as Hendel muttered curses at them and at the world in general part of the ceiling fell in and landed on his head causing further damage on top of the sword wounds (DM Note; the fact that Hendel complained vociferously about being attacked by three previously unseen assailants may have played a factor in the rood accidently falling in just specifically on his head. Just saying.) Fyvel burst through the door in his regularly dramatic style, cloak flowing out behind him and he let forth at the Ruffian only 10 foot in front of him… and shot the ceiling (DM Note; with a double critical miss) and landed in an undignified heap at the foot of the stairs. Dwon also emerged into the room, skipping past the crumpled Fyvel and with his normal malicious glee stabbed his assailant with a spear before punching him in the knackers just to ensure he was dead. Roaring in rage the two remaining Ruffians struck back, at Hendel, leaving him barely breathing he was that cut up (DM Note; 1 hit point left) Fyvel regained his feet and finished off another Ruffian with the bolt to the side of the head as he gloated over Hendel’s bloody form, the last was taken out by Dwon with a stab to his flank. As this was going on Darvin, Eriden and Galath had, much to Hendel’s disgust, lit off in the opposite direction back down the cavern, crossing the crevasse in hopes of heading off Glasstaff as he fled the scene. Darvin caught a glimpse of him as he disappeared between two sets of doorways before Eriden headed him off at the past, sprinting along in Wolf form. Glasstaff turned to beg, instead mumbled an enchantment trying to charm (the charmless) Galath who resisted his advantages and advanced on the bleeding mage who fell to his knees begging mercy. In an unexpected turn of events Darvin and Galath bound and gagged him rather than killing him, Hendel arrived demanding they cut his head off immediately “Stay away Hendel!” Darvin yelled as they kept the blood loss addled Barbarian at bay. Darvin cast a minor illusion to make himself sound more threatening and demanded Glasstaff spill the story on what was going on. Apparently these days a man in a dress is a fearsome sight as Glasstaff did indeed spill the full story about how he had been rewarded by a magical item, gold and the lure of power to betray the Lords Alliance and set up shop in Phandalin with the aim of keeping the town cowed and unable to respond to the Black Spiders plans. Of the Black Spider himself and Cragmaw Castle he knew nothing “chop his head off!” Hendel yelled “No” Darvin said firmly and a debate ensued about what to do with him when he revealed his true identity as Iarno, apparent colleague of Sildar. Hendel, unsurprisingly, advocated cutting his head off and supplying it to Halia to claim their 100 gold reward. When it was pointed out by Fyvel that returning him whole was still proof of his defeat Hendel suggested that carrying a head was easier than a whole body. “What about the staff?” Galath suggested. “What about his head?” Hendel persevered. Eventually Darvin put his foot down “I will stay with him and watch him, we are taking him alive.” Hendel grumbled (and bled) about not killing him as the party filled up with booty from Glasstaff’s laboratory and room and Eriden, Fyvel and Dwon set off to the other secret door they had recovered. “Hendel, you are not staying here alone with him.” Darvin said firmly staying close to their captive who was staring wide eyed at the swaying, growling, bleeding dwarf. Poking their head into the secret door the three adventurers found an armory and Fyvel stocked up on some bolts before they stopped in front of another closed door. “I’m not going in first.” Fyvel said. “We all know what happens if I go in first” Dwon replied glumly. “Well I’m not going in first.” Fyvel replied resolutely backing away and with that Dwon took a deep, and resigned, breath and opened up the door and from three crypts lining the walls suddenly reared three skeletons which ran toward Dwon who rolled his eyes. “Take that Bony!” Fyvel yelled as he killed one (DM Note; in perhaps the most camp, pathetic one liner ever to be uttered by an adventurer ever) before he screamed like a girl to summon aid. Both Galath and Darvin perked up at this, Hendel was glaring at Glasstaff, and they set off at a run, or a walk dragging a captive in Darvin’s case and a sullen wander in Hendel’s, to the rest of the parties aid. Eriden tried to duck between the remaining two skeletons receiving a few gashes for his troubles but stood muttering magic phrases and suddenly the air exploded outward from him in a Thunderwave which damaged both of their assailants. Fyvel fired two more bolts finishing off the second skeleton whilst Dwon unleashed his deadly combo felling the final of their three adversaries “I’m alive” He said wonderingly. Fyvel poked among the crypts finding a valuable looking ring as Dwon listened in at one of the doors exiting the chamber, he heard what sounded like multiple voices preparing to enter the chamber and the group fell back and prepared an ambush. The door opened a group of Ruffians surged into the chamber, Dwon’s javelin went helpfully sailing over their heads into a wall and combat was joined. Fyvel quickly killed one of the Ruffians now really getting into his stride (DM Note; and without a terrible quip this time) as Eriden cast ole reliable Shillelagh and charged forward thumping one of the Ruffians in the skull sending him reeling and Galath finished him with an arrow to the throat. Feeling the odds in their favor now overwhelming Hendel charged forward landing on blow before slapping his lovely, sharp new handaxe into the floor in a resounding, and probably axe blunting blow (DM Note; with another critical miss) Dwon had his party members back and dived into combat in a whirl of ineffectual spear and fists, drawing on his Ki only to manage to miss 3 times in a single round of combat. I’ve got this covered Fyvel declared as he walked within 5 foot of his target and instead managed to break his thumb as the mechanism of his crossbow kicked back (DM Note; this time a double critical miss) a Ruffian turned round laughing and ran Fyvel through sending him sprawling to the floor in a bloody heap. (DM Note; this was perhaps the most laughably inept run of rolls I have ever seen in a single round of combat) Eriden dived forward to his fallen companions aid using his Shillelagh to wound the foe who again Galath delivered the fatal blow. Hendel was not to be out done… unfortunately by Fyvel and managed to spin himself in a harmless circle with axes flailing (DM Note; in another double critical miss) Before Eriden stepped up and caved in the last Ruffians skull with his Shillelagh. As a thank you from last time, before anyone in the party could react, Hendel stepped up and gave the prone Fyvel an extremely uncompromising, steel toe capped kick in the balls as a leveler from the last time he was on the floor bleeding. Fyvel rolled on the floor now both vomiting and bleeding as the rest of the group tried to help him, Hendel just looked smug. (DM Note; as is becoming a weekly occurrence, things now got weird) The group noticed the two women (they didn’t notice the boy) who were chained up in the cages and Darvin introduced himself eloquently. “Hello ladies, we are here to help…” “Are they vulnerable women?” Hendel asked, still bleeding “Vulnerable?” “Yes, vulnerable, what will they do if I offer to let them out?” “Hendel.” Darvin shot back, disgusted. “They are not vulnerable, they have recently lost their husband and are potentially going to be sold as slaves.” “Vulnerable slave women, whose husbands have just died?” Hendel licked his lips. Fyvel had picked the locks on the cage and was about to usher the women out as Hendel barged past into the cage with the two (now worried looking) women. “Hello ladies.” He said and the whole party as one, cringed. “Just come on out.” Fyvel gently chided the worried looking women out, then before Hendel could react slammed the cage closed leaving him trapped inside. “Oh come on, I was just about to be useful for once.” “Urgh” was the overwhelmingly disgusted response from the group. As the women told their tale to the party about the death of her husband, at which point she started crying and Hendel begged to be let out, and how they had been taken captive with others who had since been sold into slavery. She offered the party a reward of a family heirloom which had been lost in Thundertree if the group could see her and her family safely home. Throughout the Hendel was hollering and making comments so the group left the room and closed the door behind them muffling his insanity. “I apologies.” Galath offered. “we actually think he is a sexual deviant.” Which made the women look even more worried than before. As the group talked the door to the chamber they had left Hendel suddenly burst open into splinters as Hendel emerged, bleeding, weaving and muttering yet more sexual innuendos (DM Note; Hendel’s best two rolls of the night were to pick the lock on the cage then kick the door down, both over 20) “Did you miss me!?” He demanded and instead the group tried ignoring him as you would a naughty puppy and he once again subsided into sullen muttering about blood loss. The group agreed to escort the woman, and their prisoner who was still under close watch of Darvin, home. Darvin stayed with their charges, Hendel loitered, as Eriden, Galath and Fyvel burst into the last chamber they had not checked to be confronted by a Goblin who was lying whining on the floor. Eventually introducing himself as Droop “a problem Hendel regularly suffers from.” Someone sniggered, he was eager to please offer the group gold, and all the information he had if only they didn’t kill him. Finding out he was scared of spiders Eriden transformed into a giant spider sending him screaming under the bed from which he begged for his life. Eventually seeing no use in him in a strange display of mercy the group left him alive and headed off back to town with their entourage. “You can have the cave.” Eriden commented. “I’ll be the richest goblin alive!” Exulted Droop. The group headed back to town and handed over Iarno to Sildar who looked furious at his betrayal, beating the man as he led him off to the jails the party were rewarded by a now happy looking Mayor with 85 gold for their services and also rescuing the missing family. Reporting their success to Halia she only offered them 50g for not returning with Iarno’s head “I told you we should have cut off his head!” Shouted Hendel sounding exasperated “We missed out on 15g. We could still go get his head.” “I don’t think Sildar would like that.” Responded Dwon dryly. As Halia had been talking Fyvel had been watching her intently and on leaving the shop he pulled up the group “She is up to something, I’m certain.” (DM Note; and with a natural 20 insight he would be right) Hendel, however, was still talking about head chopping and vulnerable women and still bleeding as no one had bothered to heal him. “Hendel.” Dwon said “Go get some tartan paint.” (DM Note; with another natural 20 roll!) “it is critical that we can discover what is going on but we need tartan paint.” “Ok.” Hendel replied, utterly convinced and trundled off. Speaking to Sildar the group discovered that Halia was in fact a representative of the Zhentarim and whilst she hadn’t done anything wrong Sildar would be keeping a closer eye on her especially in the vacuum created by the destruction of the Redbrands. Satisfied with their work the group set off back to the Stonehill Inn to rest, on reaching their beds they found a smiling Hendel. “I couldn’t find any tartan paint, but I found three dead rats and I have put them in your bed to keep them safe.” The group looked at one another as Hendel smirked. “You know, this guy really is an idiot.” Fyvel said. “Have you ever heard of the term Kuldjargh.” Eriden asked. “No” “It means axe idiot.” “Perfect.” (DM Note; The title Kuldjargh was one found by Hendel himself. On reaching level 3 at the end of the session and going for the Battlerager option he found the term which translates to “axe idiot” which with his sexual deviancy, bad attacks and general insanity fits rather well!)