#which is a left over from a different set i posted recently
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
#also have this#which is a left over from a different set i posted recently#i just like her#pigeon screens
29 notes
¡
View notes
Text
hysteria | s.r.
in which the BAU is called into a case in rural Appalachia when bodies start showing up in an abandoned insane asylum
margotober masterlist
who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst (horror?) content warnings: hanging (staged suicide), enucleation, established relationship, ghosts, insane asylum, rope burn, premonition in dreams, death, pov switches, "the green ribbon", lobotomies, abduction, corporeal vs spirit form, CPR, hospitals, painkillers, first aid word count: 8.8k a/n: hey guys i am literally not one to beg for interaction but like if you could send an ask or gimme a reblog if you liked this it would probably make my day. this fic is just an excuse for me to tell ghost stories! and just like that, margotober is over. man, it sure would be a shame if i had something planned for november!
night one
âThis is a joke, right?â You asked, eyeing the rest of the team as they observed the property before you. The dilapidated building that stood in front of you was previously completely abandoned, and now you werenât entirely sure if the yellow police line was new or if the tattered plastic was a result of a crime of the past.
It looked like one of the haunted houses that Spencer would drag you to, one with a much too high budget that would leave you feeling like you needed to scrub cobwebs from your skin. You were waiting for the sheriff to make his way up the hill that the asylum was perched on, the BAU had made it up in SUVs, but the locals elected to hoof it.
Tugging the sleeves of your FBI jacket over your hands, you tapped your heel impatiently and observed the scenery. The fall foliage was in peak season, orange and red leaves fluttered in the wind, falling from the trees until they hit the ground. To the left was the town, small and hidden within a river valley, and to the right was a field of gravestones. Each life lost in the asylum whittled down to a number, hundreds of weathered rocks marked where a body was buried. Even after all of your years with the BAU, the sight still made you sick to your stomach.
The death count on this property had gone up by twelve recently, a group of college kids had found the first body hanging from the staircase, and it seemed like a semi-routine suicide until the local cops did a full sweep of the building and found eleven other bodies, each hanging in a different room.
It wasnât until the medical examiner looked at them that they realized they were out of their depth, the oldest of the bodies had been dead before they were hung, which told you that hanging the bodies was the intention of the killer and he was beginning to perfect his M.O. Even more than that, the last two bodies had been enucleated post-mortem.
Being grateful for the method by which a person had their eyeballs destroyed wasnât an emotion you felt frequently, and it was an odd thing to admit to yourself as you consciously blinked.
Over the curve of the hill, you watched as a couple of locals made their appearance, each of them equipped with a flashlight. The sun was beginning to set. Emily had made the executive decision that this case couldnât wait until morning, so you took off in the middle of the day. Glancing over your shoulder, you found Spencerâs eyes and he gave you one of his patented half-smiles before you looked back at the foreboding building.
The structure had electrical issues, leading to lights flickering all over the crumbling brick walls. The flashes were starting to play tricks on your eyes because you wouldâve sworn that you saw a woman in one of the windows, in a long white dress as she looked down at you and your team.
âYou must be the BAU,â the sheriff greeted once he was close enough to your group, he waved before huffing impatiently. âSheriff Shawn Greenbaum, this here is Deputy Conrad Perkins,â he introduced himself and the man with him. You studied them, trying to gauge information about them based on appearance alone.
Emily nodded, reaching her hand out for him to shake and introducing herself before making the rounds with the rest of the team. âAgents Simmons and Lewis are already at the station getting settled, but the rest of us are interested in getting in the building and taking a look around.â
Greenbaum placed both of his hands on his hips before clearing his throat, âThatâs not a problem at all. Weâve got a lock up on those front doors to try and keep people out, weâre hoping itâll put a halt on any more crime.â
Kicking mud off of your boot, you and JJ shared a dubious look. In your line of work, where thereâs a will thereâs a wayâa padlock would do very little to help keep your killer out of the asylum. Even so, you all followed the sheriff as he produced a key from his belt, leading the way to the front doors. They were made of rotting wood. If someone really wanted to get past the lock, they could probably kick them in.
The smell hit you before you stepped foot inside the building, the stench of mildew wafting through the air made you crinkle your nose as you closely followed JJ into the building. A gentle touch to the small of your back told you that Spencer was behind you, each of you shuffling in single file behind the sheriff.
âThe first body was found hanging over there,â the deputy, Perkins pointed straight ahead toward the winding staircase. You studied the peeling wallpaper and looked at the faded signs above the different hallways, barely able to make out the words tuberculosis and adolescent as you strolled through the main lobby.
Since theyâd initially assumed it was a suicide, the body had been taken down, so even though you had twelve bodies to start your profile with, you didnât have a fresh crime scene anywhere. In fact, youâd wager a guess and say thereâs nothing fresh about this building.
Cringing as you walked over a pile of wet paper, you listened to Emily as she gave everyone jobs, âReid and I will keep talking to the sheriff, Rossi and JJ, why donât the two of you check out this wing here with the deputy, and Luke and Y/N can take the upstairs.â
You looked up and found Luke, following him to the staircase and ducking under the noose to go up the stairs, hesitant to use the handrail as you made your way to the second floor, knowing there was plenty of building for the two of you to explore. Pulling your flashlight from your belt for additional lighting, the sight in front of you was worse than what you had seen downstairs. âWatch your step,â you said absentmindedly, bypassing a bucket filled with what you sincerely hoped was water.
âWhen was this place built again?â Luke asked you, knowing you had done preliminary research with Spencer on the jet. He produced his own light, slipping his cell phone from his pocket and using the flashlight function.
You checked the ceiling, wondering where the beams were and if any bodies had been found in the hallways, âThe 1860s,â you responded, keeping your voice soft so you didnât disturb anything in the buildingâliving or otherwise. You found yourself wanting to walk to the window you had seen that woman in earlier.
Alvez made a disgusted noise at something, and you refrained from looking back at it, knowing you likely didnât want to know. âAnd what patients did they predominantly treat?â
Fiddling with the door handle, you nudged the door open with your knee, coughing at the puff of dust that met you on the other side. âThey started with a little bit of everything. The elderly, children, adolescents, epileptics, TB patients,â you listed off. âWe even found records of people accused of âexcessive self-satisfaction,ââ you continued, finding the window in question. The only thing you found was the same flickering sconce you had seen from the outside.
âSelf-satisfaction?â Luke repeated the phrase curiously.
You tapped the sconce with the end of your flashlight, getting it to stop flickering before you clarified, âMasturbation.â
Expectedly, Luke chuckled lightly at your answer, âHow exactly would one quantify excessive masturbation?â
Raising your eyebrows, you studied a strange mark on the cement floor, âI assure you; I have no clue.â You turned around, expecting to see Luke right in front of you. âLuke?â You called out his name, confused when you didnât see him in your line of sight, you flashed your light around the room, wondering if he had found something. âAh!â You yelped when a hand touched your shoulder, causing you to drop your flashlight.
Luke cackled from his place behind a bookshelf, âItâs gonna be a long case if youâre that tightly wound the entire time.â
You swatted at him with the sleeves of your jacket, âAsshole,â you muttered, taking the practical joke mostly in stride.
âY/N?â Spencer called from the first floor. Your voice must have carried down the stairs, or they heard the flashlight fall to the ground.
Glaring at Luke, you shouted back, âIâm fine!â You crouched to pick up your flashlight, blowing dust off of it before you tightened your grip around it, âGrow up, Alvez.â
He rolled his eyes, âYeah, yeah, so what did they do after they took in a little bit of everyone?â
You hummed, stepping back out into the hallway, and looking into what you assumed were officesâmost of the patients wouldâve lived on the first floor. âThey started to focus on patients with mental disorders in the 1970s. Around the same time that medicine in psychiatry started to make advancements,â you kicked at a piece of cloth on the ground. âIt closed down in the early nineties when people finally started acknowledging that things like lobotomies and electroshock are inhumane.â
Luke picked the next room, wiggling the doorknob before he used his shoulder to push the door open, âWoah.â
Stepping in behind him, you saw what he was looking at. Along the wall was a mural of sorts, a landscape that featured a caricature of the sun. Next to it, the words âlet the sun shine inâ were scrawled in black paint.The colors were eerily vibrant for the age of the building, âWell thatâsâŚâ You let your voice trail off, looking at the size of the furniture in the room and ascertaining that it was likely designed as a treatment space for children.
âDo you hear that?â Luke asked, shining his flashlight around the room and looking for the source of the noise.
Fortunately, you werenât that gullible, âYeah, right.â You scoffed, turning back and seeing Spencer at the top of the staircase, âHey,â you said, tilting your head to the side curiously.
He smiled at you softly, âHey, it looks like itâs about to rain, so Emilyâs having all of us head back to the precinct. We can look at the M.E. reports knowing what we know now about the crime scene.â
You nodded, looking into the room to find Luke, still shining his phone in every corner, âLuke, itâs probably just a rat or a tree branch tapping on the side of the building.â
Lukeâs eyebrows were pinched together in concern, but he followed your footsteps into the hallway, falling to the back of the group as the three of you walked downstairs, meeting the rest of the team in front of the asylum.
âItâs kind of weird,â you said mostly to yourself, though you were entirely aware of the people who were surrounding you.
Spencer hummed curiously, making sure the sheriff wasnât watching before he adjusted the collar of your jacket, âWhatâs weird?â He asked, mimicking the soft tone of your voice.
You looked back at the window where the light had started flickering again, âHow all of these people were forced into the asylum by their loved ones, and now the word has an entirely different meaning.â
Holding your mug in both hands, you listened carefully to the crackling fire in the lobby of the hotel. Matt stood up from where he was sitting so that Spencer could sit next to you, and you absentmindedly slung your legs over his lap, thinking about the case. More specifically, you were thinking about the scene.
Spencer set a hand on your pajama-covered thigh, using his other hand to hold his book open as you listened to the other noises in the lobby. There was a storm going on outside, and a certain level of unease blanketed the team, leading to a convening in the hotel. Emily and Tara were going over case files, Matt and JJ were on the phone with their families, Rossi was playing Tetris on his phone, Luke was on the phone with someone, and you were just observing.
Eventually, Luke spoke up to everyone, âHey guys, listen to this,â he said, holding his phone out and clicking the speakerphone button, âOkay, go ahead Garcia.â
Your eyebrows raised in amusement at the revelation that he was on the phone with Penelope, but you were still grateful to hear her voice coming through the speaker.
âI hope youâre all cozy by the fire because I have found a story about your crime scene that will chill you to your bones,â she prefaced, and you smiled slightly at her embellishments. âCatherine Pence was admitted to the Barnham Asylum for the Mentally Ill in 1978 at the age of 53. She lived a totally normal and insignificant life until she was 50 years old and her mother passed away, at which point, the people in Catherineâs life said she started to behave strangely.â
Snapping his book closed, Spencer set the novel in your lap before pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, âStrangely, how?â
Penelope cleared her throat, âIâm glad you asked, Dr. Reid. She was convinced that her mother was still with her. In fact, she would frequently be confused when other people told her that they couldnât see her mom. Eventually, she started showing other concerning symptoms, so her husband brought her to Barnham.â
You frowned, sharing a glance with JJ, who had hung up the phone, âWhat kinds of other symptoms?â
âThe file I got my hands on specifically cites paranoid thoughts, but thatâs not even the spookiest part,â she continued. âWhen the doctors did their first examination of Catherine, they decided that whatever she was dealing with wouldnât be amenable to any sort of treatment. She was a very calm patient who periodically had conversations with her dead mother and voiced paranoid thoughts, but they put her in Block D.â
Block D was the section of the hospital set aside for patients in need of around-the-clock care, which seemed a bit extreme for Catherine.
There was a clicking on Penelopeâs end of the call before she resumed, âAnyway, Block D had sixteen rooms and there was always some form of supervision, usually a nurse. All of the doors were locked and there were bars on the window, so it was impossible to get anywhere without someone noticing, or so you would think.â
You settled further into the couch cushions, and Spencer instinctively squeezed your thigh.
âOn December 1st, 1978, when the nurse went into Catherineâs room with her breakfast tray, she found the room in absolute tatters. I mean, the bedding was shredded, there was broken glass, everything was scattered around the room, and Catherine was missing.â Penelope said, emphasizing the last word.
Luke, who had previously seemed bored by the story, leaned forward, setting his elbows on his knees, âWhat happened to her?â
Penelope hummed, knowing she had sucked everyone into the story, âThe search started immediately. You donât just have someone escape an inescapable room and move on with your day. The windows, walls, and floor in Block D were completely intact and there was no sign of tampering with the door. No one could figure out how she got out, much less where she was.â
She didnât wait for anyone to speak before she continued, âCatherineâs nurse said that she was unusually moody and had been for weeks. She completely stopped speaking and showed no reactions when people spoke to her and it was apparently very sudden, but that didnât really provide any insight into where she could be. The staff searched the surrounding area thoroughly, but there were no leads. Eventually, they notified her relatives and the residents of the town in case she had somehow gotten out of the hospital.â
Then, on January 12th, 1979, a group of men that the asylum hired to do repair work on the second floor found that there was a door locked from the inside.â Garcia cleared her throat before resuming the story, âThey also discovered an unpleasant smell emanating from the room, and when they finally got into the room, there was Catherine Pence.â
You wrinkled your nose in disgust, simply just imagining the smell of the room.
âHer clothes were removed and neatly folded next to her and her arms were crossed over her chest, one below the other,â Penelope continued. âMysteriously, when her body was removed and taken to the morgue, there was a trace left on the concrete floor that corresponded exactly to the figure of Catherine. No matter how many times or what theyâve tried, they canât get the mark out of the concrete.â
Your blood ran cold at the memory of the strange shape youâd seen in the asylum, âWhat?â
Penelope hummed, âThe medical examiner considered hypothermia as a potential cause of death, but apparently that winter was unseasonably warm, so he settled on a heart attack.â
âDid they ever consider homicide?â Rossi asked, attempting to seem uninterested.
There was a chuckle on the other end of the call, âYes, they did, but they never found anything else to support that theory. At that point, the room Catherine was found in hadnât been opened since 1976 when it was used to contain patients with a contagious infectious disease. Since then, the room remained locked.â You could practically hear Penelopeâs smile as she divulged the final detail, âResidents of the town say that, sometimes, you can hear cries for help coming from the building. There are even reports of Catherineâs ghost being seen in the window of the room where she died, she just stands there and stares out the window.â
Everyone sat around in silence for a moment before Luke grabbed the phone off of the coffee table, âYeah, alright, thanks, Garcia.â
âSleep well, my pretties,â she crooned through the phone before the call ended.
You felt heavy as if there had been a weight placed on your chest, and in an attempt to rectify it, you handed Spencer his book, âIâm headed to bed.â
He looked up at you curiously, eyes studying yours before he nodded, âAlright, Iâll be up in a little while,â he assured you.
Your body carried you to the hotel room, using the key to unlock the door and somehow making it to the bed even after your mind had completely turned itself off. You didnât remember falling asleep, but you remembered waking up.
As you sat up in bed, you were having trouble holding your head up, finding that you couldnât turn your neck to see if Spencer had made it to bed. More than that, the room was pitch black when the two of you usually leave the bathroom light on in hotels. Opening your mouth, no words came out.
Small puffs of air escaped your lips, but nothing else came out. You couldnât move your hands to your neckâyou couldnât move at all. You wanted to call out for Spencer, and even though no sound came out of your mouth, you saw him before you.
Your eyes widened at his sudden appearance, suspiciously illuminated in the otherwise dark room.
Tantalizingly slowly, his hand reached out for you, touching the skin of your neck with his fingertips before pulling. It felt like he was pulling at a thread, and all you could do was watch as his hand came back with a piece of twine pinched between his fingers and your disembodied head fell to the floor.
You gasped for air, holding your hand to your chest and panting, unable to figure out how to get air into your lungs when you so desperately needed it. There were other hands on you, gently placed on your hip and upper back, the latter rubbing small circles as you choked on nothing but air.
âHey,â Spencer whispered, continuing his ministrations on your back. âItâs okay, Iâve got you,â he comforted you, trying to get you to even out your breathing.
Carefully, his hand reached up to your neck, sweeping hair behind your shoulder, but as soon as you felt his hand on the side of your neck, you flinched away from him, nearly toppling off of the double bed.
He pulled you back as gently as he could, âY/N,â he said, his voice stern this time as he turned to flick the lamp on. âWhat happened?â
You shook your head, appreciating how secure it felt to the rest of your body, before pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes. âIt was just a nightmare,â you answered, the sound of your own voice felt disconnected from your body.
âYou donât usually call out my name in your nightmares,â Spencer observed softly, trying to get you to open up more to him, âAnd youâve definitely never pulled away from me like that.â
He was right, you had your general recurring nightmaresâmostly work relatedâbut youâve never had anything like this before. You didnât know how to explain it to him, because how would you explain to your rational, genius boyfriend that you thought you were seeing ghosts?
night two
You felt his eyes on you, Spencerâs big, brown eyes were boring right into yours as you looked at the foreboding structure in front of you. You werenât even sure how long youâd been watching the stained-glass window, waiting for something to happen, waiting for the ghost to come back.
Sighing, you leaned back in the passenger seat of the car, thinking about the now-cold coffee that you had sitting in the cup holder and wondering if it would be worth the caffeine if it meant you had to pee in the woods at some point in the night.
âYou shouldâve stayed at the hotel tonight,â Spencer said, his eyes still focused on you.
You pursed your lips, watching the light flicker in the window, âWe have a job to do.â That shouldâve been enough for him, it had to be enough for you, knowing that at the end of the day, this was just a case and youâd be going home once you found whoever was doing this.
Finally turning his head, Spencer huffed in frustration as he faced the front door of the asylum. âI know you didnât get back to sleep last night, so you have to be exhausted now,â he told you.
It was nearly midnight now, and you indeed hadnât gone back to sleep after waking up at two in the morning, but you still agreed to a stakeout when Emily suggested it. Spencer called you out on it then, similarly to what he was doing now, and you were sure he had something to do with you being paired up together. If you ever found out he had voiced a concern about you to Emily, you were going to have issues.
The cool glow of the waning gibbous moon reflected off of the building, the effect only building the eerie feeling in your stomach, winding itself up like a ball of yarn.
With the morning came another body, and it became clear to Emily and the locals that the camera surveillance that had been set up along the perimeter wasnât doing anything to bring you closer to closing the case. So, she had you and Spencer sitting in a car at the front entrance, each of you armed and on high alert, no matter what your boyfriend thought.
On the other side of the building, Luke and Tara were in another vehicle, keeping an eye on a back entrance that had the potential to be an access point for the UnSub.
Keeping an eye on your window, you squinted as if you could somehow summon Catherine Penceâs ghost. You wished youâd been paired up with Luke again, who at least had seen the mark on the floor, but instead, you had Spencer, who had meddled with your work out of concern for you.
You sighed, reminding yourself that he only did it out of concern for you, wondering how to approach the issue when an all-too-familiar figure appeared in that second-floor window, âDo you see that?â You blurted the question before you could even think about what you were saying.
Instinctively, Spencer placed a hand on his weapon while looking through the windshield of the car, âSee what?â
You furrowed your brows, pointing as plainly as you possibly could to the second-floor window where you saw the woman, âOn the second floor. Off to the right,â you said desperately, wanting him to see it, wanting him to believe you. âDonât you see her?â
Spencerâs hand dropped as his gaze went from the building and back to you, âHoney.â You tried to ignore the emotion-filled tone that he gave you, flooding the pet name with an apt amount of concern.
Sitting back in the car seat, âNever mind, I didnâtââ you cut yourself off, âI just thought I saw something.â You tried to play it off, crossing your ankles one over the other and shifting in the seat, trying to keep your ass from going numb.
His eyes were still trained on you, and you tried to ignore him even as he locked the passenger door from the inside. The car remained absolutely silent until you heard a voice come in from the radio, âThis is the Death Star calling for the Bat Mobile, over.â
You rolled your eyes at the sound of Lukeâs voice, âDonât call this car the Bat Mobile,â you told Spencer as he lifted the radio to his mouth.
âThis is the Bat Mobile, we can hear you loud and clear Death Star, over,â Spencer responded, grinning at the way you groaned in response. The poltergeist of it all nearly forgotten for just a moment.
Placing your head in your hands in frustration as you waited for Lukeâs response, Spencer reached over and smoothed your hair back, the gesture feeling oddly domestic for a stakeout. Maybe that was why Emily never paired the two of you together. âYeah, we arenât seeing anything out here, are you clear on your end?â
Spencerâs ministrations on your hair faltered for just a moment before he answered, âNo, we havenât seen anything.â
âTara just got off the phone with Emily, they got the lab results back on those tools we found by the latest victim,â he informed you, âThe blood on it was a match.â
You pressed your lips together in a thin line and shared a look with Spencer. Part of you was grateful to finally feel like youâd made some semblance of progress with the case, but the other part of you felt physically ill knowing that the latest victim had been enucleated using an orbitoclast. Her eyes and sockets were pulverized by a lobotomy pick, and it almost made you feel like you needed a word stronger than sadist.
âDid the medical examiner say the injuries matched the patterns of the other two enucleated victims?â Spencer asked into the radio, holding it close to his mouth as he spoke.
There was a pause before Luke responded, âUh, kind of.â
You frowned, âWhat do you mean âkind of?ââ
Another pause, âThe M.E. concluded that the wound patterns are the same on the three latest victims, but the injuries on the most recent one were inflicted antemortem,â Luke explained.
Your eyes widened as the weight of Lukeâs words joined the pit in your stomach, her eyes had been pulverized while she was still alive. The M.E.âs conclusion matched the one you had proposed when you saw the blood spatter this morning. You held your breath to stop a sound of disgust from escaping your lips, but you knew Spencer saw it on your face.
âThanks for the update,â Spencer said, turning down the volume on the radio slightly before setting it on the dashboard.
Swallowing thickly, you placed both of your hands in your lap, studying them as if youâve never seen them before, âHave you ever gotten the feeling that a case isnât going to end well?â
You caught him while he was about to take a sip of his coffee, his movement paused for a moment before he took a swig anyway, setting the cup in the cup holder and nodding, âYeah,â he answered, his voice raspy before he cleared his throat, âI have.â
Running your tongue over your molars, you raised your eyebrows at him in curiosity, âWhat usually happens?â
Spencer sighed, going back to facing the asylum before he held his hand out for you to take, you obliged, setting your intertwined fingers on the center console. âThe case usually doesnât end well,â he admitted.
âWhen are you going to tell me what your nightmare was about?â Spencer asked, squeezing your hand as he made conversation, trying to keep the two of you awake through the night.
Leaning your head back, you looked through the sunroof of the car, thrilled to see the sun beginning to rise over the tiny town. âI donât think it really matters, it was just a bad dream,â you told him, clearly aware of why it mattered.
You even knew why it mattered to him. Youâd never pushed him away like that before, but as soon as his hand had gone near your neck, youâd completely lost control of your body. âLook, I know I donât believe in dream analysisââ
âOh,â you scoffed, cutting him off. âYes, you do,â you corrected him, âYou do this all the time, you talk about dream analysis, and you claim that you donât believe in it but then you actually get into it, and you admit that you just donât like what Freud has to say about it. Then youâll list everyone who has discredited him before you tell me âJung still has his merits.ââ
Spencer was quiet, and you immediately regretted your interjection.
Sighing, you wished you could melt into the passenger seat of the car, âIâm sorry,â you whispered. âI donât think that analyzing my dream right now will do any good, but I just⌠Iâm sorry.â
He was still silent.
Chewing on the inside of your lip, you turned your body as best you could in the vehicle, âDo you believe in the afterlife?â
That got his attention. Spencer turned his head to you, concern etched into his face, âWhy are you asking me this?â
You couldnât tell him. Youâd break his heart if you told him that throughout the duration of this case, youâd developed a pit in your stomach and started having dreams about dying. âIn my dream, it was like⌠like I was paralyzed, and I couldnât move my head. I couldnât speak or anything and when I thought about calling for you, you appeared.â You sniffled slightly, âYou reached out for my neck and your hand came back with a piece of twine, and then my head fell to the groundâcompletely detached from my body.â
The lack of judgment in his expression was what finally triggered the first tear to fall from your eye, but you didnât wipe it away. Spencer moved his hand and deftly wiped at your tears with his fingertips, cupping your face in his hands, âYouâre not going to die.â
âSpence,â you said, your voice strained by emotion.
He shook his head gently, âNope, not as long as Iâm around. Youâre not going to die on this case.â
Your chest ached as your eyes studied his, âOkay.â
âBut,â he continued, âI want you to take a step back on this one. No more volunteering for stakeouts, no wandering to the second floor of the asylum, and no listening to any more of Penelopeâs ghost stories.â
Nodding, you silently agreed to his conditions, holding out your pinky and waiting for him to present his. Interlocking your small fingers, you each kissed your hands, and you took a deep breath. âWhat do you think weâre looking at, Spence? Is it another witch hunt?â
Names and faces of people like Leland Duncan and James Heathridge flashed in your memory, but if there was an overlap there, you havenât seen it.
You didnât feel like the BAU had a very good track record in Appalachia, Shane Wyland and the still unnamed âMountain Manâ were proof enough of that, but you hoped that Wyland was long dead by now, and these crimes were too organized for the Mountain Man.
âI donât know, baby,â Spencer admitted, and you knew that it hurt him to say that to you, especially now.
Looking out the window, your eyes caught on Luke and Tara as they made their way over to your car. Spencer unlocked the doors as you hurriedly wiped beneath your eyes, trying to hide any evidence of your upset before reconvening with the team.
Luke waggled his eyebrows at the two of you, âGood morning, how was your night?â
Groaning, you stretched out your neck, âUltimately uneventful,â you told him, knowing that if anything of real interest had happened, Luke and Tara wouldâve been the first people you notified.
âPrentiss asked us if weâd do a quick sweep of the inside before heading back to the precinct,â Tara said, jutting her chin in the direction of the building.
You and Spencer shared a look, but now that you were grouped within your team, you felt comfortable enough to slip your hand in his as the four of you approached the building. Squeezing his hand, your eyes flickered up to the second-story window, and seeing nothing, you stepped into the building.
The smell hit you. The strong tang of blood mixed with that of isopropyl alcohol burned at your nostrils as Tara swore at the sight in front of all of you. A body hanging from the stairwell, eyes completely destroyed, and while the body was covered in blood, the floor was completely void of any red.
âSheâs cleaning up,â you observed, stepping closer to Spencer and looking at the streak marks that a rag had made on the floor.
Luke raised his eyebrows, âShe?â He asked, confused about the sudden change in pronouns while Tara immediately went to call Emily.
Spencer nodded, agreeing with you as the three of you watched the body turn in the glow of the sunrise, âA man wouldnât care about the mess heâs leaving behind.â
This revelation left you more confused than anything, you had no idea how anyone could lift that much dead weight, night after night. âOh,â you breathed, blood draining from your face as you looked up at Spencer and Luke. âWe were watching the building all night,â you reminded them. âWe never saw anyone enter, but we never saw them leave.â
night three
âAlright,â Emily started, fully equipped in her Kevlar, she looked around the entryway of the asylum, âRossi and Tara will keep an eye out front in case anyone tries to make a run for it. Reid and JJ will take the tunnels beneath the west wing, Simmons and I will take the east wing, Alvez and Sheriff Greenbaum will head north, and Y/N and Deputy Perkins will stay here in the foyer in case anyone calls for backup.â
In the dark building, Spencer gave your hand a squeeze before everyone turned on their flashlights. âLetâs end this,â Rossi said, earning a hum of agreement as everyone split off into their respective directions.
You wished Emily had done you the kindness of letting you be paired with Spencer again, but twice in the span of a single case was seemingly too much to ask for. âYou ever seen something like this?â Deputy Perkins asked you, shuffling his feet across the floor.
Shaking your head, your eyes focused on where the newest body had been found that morning. The body was cleared out and the cause of death was blunt force trauma, but once the realization that the killer had been in the building the entire time settled in, the team got to work on figuring out some of the logistics.
That was when the sheriff brought up the possibility of the killer using a long-abandoned tunnel system. The town had assumed they caved in years ago, but a bit of sleuthing had revealed that there were still a select number of tunnels for her to use.
As long as I stay in the foyer, you reminded yourself, no wandering.
The stench of isopropyl alcohol still floated through the air; it had likely sept into the porous flooring that had been underneath the body. You made note of the flickering lights in the surrounding area, making sure not to get any of them mixed up as you rested a hand on your firearm.
âDid you hear that?â Deputy Perkins asked you, looking up the stairs and shining his flashlight on them, trying to see if he could find anything in the eerie abyss of darkness.
Swallowing thickly, you shook your head in response, âNo,â you told him, looking to the left and right of you, wondering if one of the pairs that had been sent off was returning. You hadnât heard anything coming from the upstairs.
He hummed, taking a step closer to the staircase and setting off alarm bells in your head, âIâm sure I heard a shuffling coming from upstairs.â The pit in your stomach reformed as he planted a foot on the staircase and waved you over, âCome on, we should check it out.â
You hesitated, âWeâre supposed to be here if someone needs backup,â you reminded him, nearly pleading with him not to abandon his post.
Perkins shrugged at you before taking another step. âIâm going to check it out, and thereâs safety in numbers,â he countered before ascending the steps, making it to the first landing before your feet finally moved.
âFuck,â you muttered as you followed him up the stairs, taking careful steps so that they didnât creak beneath you. You reached the second-floor seconds after him, but you shone your flashlight around without any sign of him, beaming the light into the familiar room, âDeputy Perkins?â
You stepped into the room, placing a hand on your firearm as you tapped on the flickering sconce again and looked behind you. Your breathing hitched at the sight of the deputy in front of you, he was crumpled to the floor, his legs folded unnaturally, and there was a lobotomy pick that went straight through his head.
Next to him stood a woman, her clothes were tattered and stained with blood, and she came at you, shoving you to the ground and leaving your gun and flashlight scattered on the hardwood. The force of the impact knocked the wind out of you, and you got yourself out from under her while she frantically searched for a missing piece of the puzzle.
Sheâd used her pick to take out the deputy, leaving her with nothing to gouge your eyes out. You werenât sure if you should feel grateful as you rolled over and grabbed the closest thing you could, wrapping your fingers around your flashlight and swinging it aimlessly against your attacker.
âNo!â She screamed a high-pitched, blood-curdling sound rang out as you hit her on the side with your law enforcement issue flashlight. The object slipped out of your fingers as you sat up and tried to reorient yourself with your surroundings, you couldnât see your gun, searching for it as she flung your flashlight back at you, the edge of it catching on your forehead as you fell back.
The UnSub straddled your waist, keeping a firm hold on your throat as she held the pick to your eye, having pulled it from the deputyâs head so that she could complete her ritual, âDonât,â you gasped, âThinkââ your voice broke off as vomit rose in your throat. âThink of the mess,â you told her. âYou used all the rubbing alcohol,â you reminded her, pleading with her not to take your eyes.
She was seething, very nearly foaming at the mouth above you as instead of stabbing you with the pick, she used the butt of it to crack against your skull. âYou took my friends!â She raged, referring to the people that she had murdered, she was collecting them to keep her company.
âNo,â you wheezed, shaking your head even through the blinding pain, âI set them free,â you challenged her, resigning yourself to an untimely demise and crying out when she sat you up.
You tried to claw at her, a weak attempt at saving your own life that received a laugh from the UnSub, an almost childlike giggle. âYou can be my friend,â she offered, grabbing an already prepared rope from the floor and looping it around your neck before she slung it around an exposed beam, creating a makeshift rig and pulling on it.
Immediately, your hands flew to your neck, trying to stop the rope from suffocating you completely, and it worked for a little while before your feet lifted off of the ground.
After that, you were gone, left standing off to the side as you watched your body hang from the ceiling while the UnSub who would always remain an UnSub to you watched, cackling as she did so. She cackled up until the moment JJ put a bullet in her brain, the sudden death of your attacker leaving your body to drop to the hardwood floor, the hit softened by Spencer and Emily as they caught.
Tossing the rope to the side, Spencer laid you out on the floor and ducked his head to your chest, listening for breathing sounds. He was listening for anything, any sign of life at all.
There was nothing, so he put his hands on your corporeal formâs chest and started CPR, pushing down on your chest in steady motions.
You knelt down to him, watching tears fall from his face as JJ did her best to keep your airway open and Emily frantically radioed for an ambulance, continuously repeating that Y/N is down.
Assuming your hand would go right through him, you placed a hand on Spencerâs back, surprised to find that he was still solid to you. In a sort of daze, you watched him as he tried to save your life, repeating the same three words over and over again, âCome on, baby.â The mantra continued, tears falling onto your shirt.
You felt like you were on fire as if your body was physically burning while you watched life-saving measures be performed on yourself, âOh, Spencer,â you whispered. âIâm so sorry,â you said to no one but yourself, knowing that he couldnât hear you.
Looking to your side, you saw her again. The spirit form of Catherine Pence was watching you die in real-time, and you took a shuddering breath as she knelt next to you, expecting her to impart some sort of spiritual wisdom onto you.
Instead, she placed one of her ethereal hands on the back of your head and slammed both of your forms together. The entire world went dark after that, but you could still hear everything going on, searing pain ran through your entire body, from a throbbing in your ankle to an ache in your ribs to a pulsing in your head, but there was no more pressure on your chest.
âIs sheâŚ?â You heard JJâs voice first, and as badly as you wanted to open your eyes, you just couldnât gather the strength to do so.
There was heavy breathing and a soft weight on your shoulder, two fingers pressed into the pulse point on your wrist, âSheâs breathing. Sheâs alive,â Spencer answered, out of breath. âOh, my angel.â
A low groan was the only thing you could muster up.
Spencer shushed you, keeping his head on your shoulder and his fingers on your wrist, âItâs okay, donât try to talk,â he cooed. âYouâre going to be okay, the paramedics are here,â he lifted his head then. âI just want to stay with her.â
aftermath
It was far too bright for you, and the low keening sound that you expelled from your throat was the only way you could think to express that feeling. Whoever was in the room with you understood, turning the brightness down for you, earning a hum of approval from you.
âHey,â Spencer whispered, his voice barely audible as he tried to keep his voice as low as possible.
The universe was taking pity on you, you knew it because you couldnât feel any pain, which either meant you had finally kicked it or the hospital you were in had given you painkillers.
Your eyes felt like they were stuck together, the way that they get when you wake up from a perfect nap, and it took a surprising amount of energy to part your lips, expelling a deep breath out of your mouth. The action led to a pinching pain in your chest, causing your breathing to hitch, âOw.â
âSorry,â Spencer said, though you couldnât imagine what he was apologizing for. âCan you open your eyes? How are you feeling?â
A grunt was all he received in response, the single noise begging him to slow down. Your eyes opened just slightly, looking at him through slivers as he smiled softly at you. His eyes were red and there was a box of Kleenex on the table next to him, accompanied by his phone and a cup of water.
He sighed in relief once he noticed that your eyes were opening, âHey,â he repeated, âYou look good,â he lied to you.
You rolled your eyes at him and his smile only grew, âHi,â you croaked, your throat swollen and dry as you tried to reorient yourself. You were in a hospital, but the view outside of your window was of a city, not the tiny town that you had just been in.
Noticing your confusion, Spencer reached out to adjust your nasal cannula, âThey transported you to a hospital in a city. The local hospital just didnât have the capacity to treat you,â he explained. âIâve been with you,â he reassured you, âThe entire time.â
âIâm sorry,â you rasped, but he waved you off instantly.
Spencer grabbed the Styrofoam water cup from your bedside table and held it to you, bending the straw so that you could get some water.
Noting his silence, you tilted your head to the side, ignoring the way your brain felt like it had been scrambled, âAre you okay?â
He pursed his lips while setting the cup back down, âI just remember thinking about how I promised you that you werenât going to die.â
The antiseptic air made you cringe, your body becoming more and more conscious as time went on, âI wandered,â you reminded him, making sure he knew that you broke your promise first.
âThat wasnât your idea,â Spencer challenged, knowing you well enough to say that without having experienced it himself. His fingers nimbly adjusted the blanket on your hospital bed, âYou followed the deputy upstairs, it wasnât your choice.â
In your current state, Spencer wouldnât let you take any of the responsibility for what had happened in the asylum and even though you knew the answer, you asked him anyway, âIs she dead?â
Nodding softly, he took your hand in his, âSheâs dead, and someday Iâll let you know her name and read the rest of the case, but today is not that day.â He skimmed his thumb over your knuckles, each of them cracked and bloodied from your fight with the UnSub.
You sighed in relief, a single tear receding into your hairline as you closed your eyes again, âHow long have I been sleeping?â You asked, squinting over at your patient care whiteboard.
âTwo days,â Spencer answered gently, dragging his fingers up and down your forearm, âYou were tired, and your body had a lot of healing to do. It still does,â he added the last part, not wanting you to claim being healed. âEveryoneâs still here, waiting for you to be discharged,â he continued, âI should message Emily, actually.â
âAnd Penelope,â you added, knowing sheâd rather hear it directly from him than through Emily.
Spencer chuckled lightly, a sound that was as curative as any medicine you could be given, âIâm sure sheâll be waiting for us at the tarmac in Quantico.â
A small smile sprouted on your face, âSheâll be the one landing the plane,â you laughed slightly, interrupted by a fit of coughing. You placed a hand on your chest and winced, inhaling sharply before trying to breathe through the pain.
âWhat do you need?â He asked you carefully, setting his phone back down after sending his texts.
You shook your head, âNothinâ, just you.â
It was an action that wouldâve previously earned a few stares from the team, and at least one wolf whistle from Luke, you and Spencer slipping into the galley together and closing the curtain behind you. Now it was simply the easiest place for you to get some semblance of privacy as Spencer snipped at the old bandaged around your neck.
Your hair was secured atop your head, keeping it out of the ointment as Spencer used his fingertips to carefully cover the rope burn that had been left around your neck. âDoes it hurt?â He asked, eyes focused on his canvas while coating the hollow of your throat.
Shaking your head minutely, you closed your eyes, âNo,â you told him, a slight rasp still peeking through your tone.
He hummed in response, giving you a small smile as he went back to the tube, putting more ointment on his fingers, âLiar.â
Opening your eyes again, you looked up at him as your face warmed, âOnly a little bit,â you altered your answer. At this point, the worst part about the burn was that the nurses recommended keeping it covered, and Spencer was taking his job as caretaker very seriously.
He checked his phone for something before going back to his prior actions, âI think itâs getting better,â he observed, furrowing his brows as he wiped excess ointment from his fingers.
You took his word for it, having been avoiding looking in a mirror at all costs. Seeing the bruises all over your body was more than enough for you. You flinched when someone else slipped into your oasis, Emily shut the curtain behind her, holding out a pack of non-adhesive Telfa pads for Spencer to use on your neck.
âHey,â you said nervously, wondering if she had another purpose or if she was simply bringing you some first-aid.
Emily smiled nervously; her eyes studied the marks on your throat as Spencer covered them. You expected her to speak, but she just watched in complete silence.
Raising your eyebrows, you looked from her to Spencer, and back to her again. âYou should see the other guy,â you joked, earning the slightest smile from the both of them.
âI just wanted to let you know that however much time you decide to take off, itâs yours,â she offered to you, watching as Spencer unwrapped another packet of gauze.
You hummed, âIâm really alright, Em,â you assured her, more than comfortable with the automatic six weeks that you were granted by the bureau. It was the standard set for all agents unless there was an extenuating circumstance that prevented them from returning to work.
Emilyâs nervous smile returned, âIt wasnât a suggestion,â she informed you, letting you know that she was more or less forcing you to take the extended time off.
Peering at your boyfriend, you frowned, âYou put her up to this.â
Spencer shook his head, âI didnât. Stop moving so much,â he urged you, trying to stretch the number of Telfa pads he had before he had the chance to go to a pharmacy.
âHe didnât,â Emily iterated, âBut he couldâve, and I still wouldnât tell you,â she added. âWeâll talk moreâboth of you. For now, I donât want to see you around the BAU for a while.â
You sighed when she left the galley, Spencer finished his last placement before stepping back. âHow do I look?â You asked him, keeping your question mostly rhetorical.
His smile was so gentle that it cracked at your resolve, âGood.â
Looking up at him doubtfully, you leaned against the counter, âYouâre a really bad liar.â
âHey,â he said, carefully wrapping his arms around you and letting you rest the unmarred side of your head on his chest, âYou look alive, and thatâs good enough for me.â
#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid angst#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fic#criminal minds fic#criminal minds angst#spencer reid x fem!reader#written by margot#margotober#angstober
847 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Ant lovers, this is not the post for you, I'm sorry.
I have a big anthill in the worst location, between my house and the greenhouse, so that the ants are invading me on two different fronts! Over the past two months or so I've tried a lot of methods to make the ants feel unwelcome, from the humane Earth Mother approach to more aggressive ones, but nothing worked. Flooding them with water. Then boiling water. Dish soap. Vinegar. Diatomaceous earth, which usually solves just about every problem. The ants did not care. I tried asking, then suggesting, then bargaining, then insisting, then threatening, then
Sorry, ants. You should have taken my threats seriously.
I meant to wait until everything was fully consumed before extinguishing the fire, but then I realised I was out of dog food (when you buy one of these 20kg bags of kibble you always feel like it'll never run out and then it does in the most unexpected and untimely manner, every time). I had time to pop by the store before it closed, and by this point the fire was just a few embers left at the bottom of the tragic moon crater that used to be a magnificent ant palace. You can see my chickens keeping an eye on it from above:
I fully trust my chickens but still, before I left I went to tell the carpenter working in my barn today that I've been burning an anthill, the fire is almost out but could he glance out the window every now and then while I'm in town, and maybe go and throw a bucket of water if he sees my house engulfed in flames? I'm just going on a quick, half-hour errand.
He agreed, so I left.
I ran into the librarian at the grocery shop, who of course invited me over for a cup of tea. It's genuinely impossible to say no to such offersâI mean, you say no and then you end up at the librarian's house having tea anyway. You'd think the possibility of my house and llamas going up in flames if I don't go home to monitor the embers would be a foolproof excuse to get out of a tea invitation, but there are no excuses. The librarian wanted me to taste the giant cookie she baked and she wanted to talk about something stupid our president said or did recently and I had no choice but to follow her.
But it's okay, the carpenter and the hens are on top of the situation!
Still, I felt antsy (sorry) as I sat in the librarian's kitchen and watched her feed Pandolf cookie crumbs. (She had some crumbs set aside for her own dog, but her dog is tiny and scared of Pandolf so she remained at the other end of the kitchen, intensely interested in the unattainable cookie crumbs, mentally willing Pandolf to disappear from her kitchen, vibrating with despair, the picture of anguish.)
I tried to use Pandolf as a pretext to cut my visit short, but I had zero cooperation from my traitor dog. "We've been gone a while, he probably needs to pee!"
The librarian asked me about the carpentry stuff going on in my barn right now and I didn't want to start a whole new conversation which would inevitably lead to half a dozen anecdotes about construction work, when I'd already had such trouble wrapping up the let's-trash-talk-Macron conversation (it's not that I don't want to trash talk Macron. But my house was burning, maybe.)
I tried to point out again that my house was probably ashes by now and the librarian said serenely, "Well, your carpenter will feel obligated to hurry up and finish the job much faster if you have no house anymore and must move into the barn."
I agreed that there's an upside to everything, but still. I had to go.
Just as I was leaving the librarian's house, I saw the carpenter's car entering town. I waved at him and he stopped and opened the window and told me everything was going well, and I said, "And the fire? It must be out by now."
"What fire?"
He had absolutely not checked the fire. (He was standing next to a noisy machine when I made my request so it's possible he didn't hear me well and figured I was checking on his work and just went "Yeah, all good!") (I'm trying to be fair)
And yes, okay, it was just a few embers at the bottom of a pit with heavy, wet winter earth all around, but I'm a pessimist so I threw Pandolf into my car and drove home at full speed. For some reason what I pictured during this quick, worried drive home was ant payback. A long line of determined ants stretching from their ravaged anthill to my house, each one of them carrying a tiny burning twig. I don't think two chickens would be enough to suppress that.
When I reached my dirt road, I couldn't see my house from afar but could see a plume of smoke in the middle of the woods. It looked pretty small, but still, I was relieved when I got closer and found that the smoke rose from the exact location of the anthill and nowhere else.
I'd taken precautions, like wetting the earth around the pit and choosing a day when some rain was expected in the evening, but a lot of forces conspired to ensure the embers were left unattended, from a forgetful (or confused) carpenter to Pandolf's love of cookie crumbs and the librarian's inescapable friendliness. (She whatsapped me to ask if my house was on fire and I said (jokingly) no, but no thanks to you!! And she was a bit contrite and said, it's Macron :( we spent too long on this topic... And I said no I know, of course I blame Macron and she sent me a handshake emoji)
The ants were not in an avenging mood btw, they were teeming around the crater looking quite defeated, it made me sad. (But I hope they're defeated.) I didn't throw my bucket of water over it straight away because I was a bit fascinated by the inside of the anthill, from up close it looked like the Mines of Moria.
I crouched down next to the ants and we wordlessly watched the last embers slowly die as night fell over the pasture. It was very atmospheric until Pirlouit started braying with absolute fury because it was almost dark and his evening hay was still nowhere to be seen.
1K notes
¡
View notes
Text
Samâs Choice - The Blue Box
(Original story posted November 22nd 2021) This story has been Updated!
Make sure to read âĄď¸ The Prologue âŹ
ď¸ first!
Samâs gaze darted between the three boxes. Weirdly this felt like one of the biggest choices of his life. Simply picking a box. And yet it probably was since his life could take a very different turn depending on which box he chooses .
It took some time for him to finally come to a decision. Wavell was surprisingly patient though, sitting back in an armchair as he watched Sam struggle. But eventually after taking a long deep breath, he grabbed one of the three boxes. âThis one.â he said as held up none other than the *blue* box.
âAlrighty then. Blue it is.â Looking satisfied, Wavell snapped his finger with a glow once more causing the remaining two boxes to vanish in a puff of smoke. âNow. Usually I tend to stick around for the next part⌠but I think Iâll give you some privacy for this. Besides, I can always use my *magic crystal ball* to rewatch what's about to happen.â Wavell laughed, waving his hands about.
Despite that, Sam couldnât tell if Wavell was being serious about that or not. He only gulped as Wavell returned to his ghostly form before disappearing through the walls of the hotel. Finally leaving Sam alone with the blue box.
He sat back down on the bed, resting the box on his lap before gently gripping the underside of the lid. There was a pounding sensation in his chest that felt like a mix of both excitement and anxiety as he slowly but surely pulled off the lid.
He had to be honest, what he found inside wasnât what he was expecting. Sitting in the box was a very large pair of white Nike trainers. They were definitely used judging by the scuff marks and flecks of dirt but they werenât old either. And to go with each trainer, both seemed to have a white gym sock stuffed inside them..
Immediately Sam could tell theyâd been very recently worn. The dirt on the trainers seemed fresh but the main tell was the powerful smell. The moment he opened the lid, Sam could already smell the sweaty stench emanating from the trainers and burning into his nose. Most would be repulsed and yet somehow he found himself drawn to it?âŚ
He tugged one of the gym socks free from the trainers. It was dirty and drenched in sweat. Whoever had been wearing them mustâve been working hard. The smell was so strong and pungent that Sam just couldnât help himself. Slowly but surely brought the sock up to his nose. His heart started beating faster until finally he pressed the damp sock against his nose. It was intoxicating. Hypnotic even. So much so that he began to lose himself in it. Nose buried deep into the fabric of the sweaty gym sock for god knows how long before he finally came back to his senses with a huge boner. It was then that it hit him. Soon enough heâd be the owner of that manly smell.
There was only one thing left to do.
Sam pulled off his own socks and set them to one side. Then proceeding to take the gym sock heâd just been sniffing feverishly and pulling it over his left foot. It hung a tad bit loose but that was expected since the man who owned the socks seemingly had pretty massive feet. He didnât want to waste anymore time though as he pulled out the second sock, making sure to give it a long deep sniff before tugging that one over his right foot as well. After which Sam couldnât help wiggling his toes a little, relishing in the dampness of the socks.
Now that he had the socks on however, it was as though a powerful urge put on the huge trainers overtook Samâs mind. Naturally couldnât stop himself from giving the trainers a quick sniff first though. Of course they smelt incredibly pungent and just as intoxicating as the socks. If not more! The way the sweaty masculine aroma they embodied permeated his sense felt like a spell of pure desire was overtaking him. He needed the smell so badly! Butas much as Sam wanted to shove his nose inside the trainers and sniff them for hours on end, he wanted to transform and make the scent his own even more.
He took the left trainer first, bringing it down sliding his foot inside with ease. The trainers were so many sizes larger than his feet that he didnât even have to undo the laces. Sam wasted no time in pulling on the right trainer to match. Afterwards he stood up from the bed and looked down at his new footwear. He couldnât help but feel at least a little silly with how oversized the trainers were on him, leaving so much free space. He wriggled his toes inside, allowing a pleasurable shiver to run up his spine as he began to feel musky sweat from the socks blending once again with stench thatâd been etched into the inside of the trainers. His cock pulsing excitedly as his own feet absorbed the sweaty smell.
And then finally it started.
A tornado of magic began to surge and spin around Sam, blurring his vision of the hotel room. Before he had time to panic or do anything however, he doubled over in discomfort and rising tension as the most bizarre sensation overtook his body. Sam squeezed his eyes shut as the feeling flooded every nerve. He could feel something changing within him. His body was transforming itself dramatically but he could hardly open his eyes to see what was happening. A confusing mixture of pain and pleasure took over as everything about his appearance changed in order to transform him into a perfect visage of the man that once wore those big smelly trainers. Even his clothes seemed to change!
After what felt like an eternity, the transformation began slow as it reached completion. The whirlwind of magical energy started to dissipate just as Sam opened his eyes. Immediately he could tell he was no longer in the hotel. As the magic vanished completely, Sam could see that he was now in a small room that looked sort of like a messy office.
Looking around he quickly noticed two computer desks but immediately he could tell this wasnât an ordinary office simply due to how the room was also filled with sports gear. There were bags full of footballs and rugby balls lying around along with an air pump for if any of them went flat. A bunch of mismatched trainers and football cleats lying near the door alongside a box that had âspare kitâ written on it. Boxes full of rackets of baseball bats along with the matching balls to go along with them. The walls were covered in all sorts of gym and sports related posters and awards. There was even a shelf with a couple trophies on it. He also didnât fail to notice the underlying post workout stench mixed with menâs deodorant filling the room. If Sam didnât know any better heâd say he was in a coachâs office. Suddenly the trainers he was wearing made complete sense.
Speaking of Sam suddenly realised something. The trainers no longer felt loose. In fact his feet now felt as though they fit snugly inside them. Filling out the damp interior of the huge scruffy trainers perfectly as if his feet had been molded to them. That wasnât all however. As Sam looked down at himself he was quick to see that not only was he now wearing a new short sleeved t-shirt and shorts but also that his entire damn body had changed! Heâd felt it happening but seeing it with his bare eyes was mind boggling!
The first thing Sam focused on was his chest⌠he actually had pecs!? Granted they werenât enormous like the bodybuilders you see online. They were modest and built naturally from a life of sport and activity. He couldnât help grabbing at them through the blue shirt he now found himself wearing, kneading them with a curious lust before eventually moving his hands down his torso.
Sam lifted up his shift a little, allowing one hand to rub a hand across the light fuzz that now adorned his stomach. Fuzz that no doubt led up towards and covered his chest judging by what heâd felt moments ago. Manly body hair, yet another thing he didnât have before.
At this point his heart rate began to accelerate and the reality of the situation began to settle in. Any small doubts he may have had before were squashed. This was real. Immediately his gaze slithered even further down his body and towards his crotch. He remembered that changing as well as he transformed. He didnât even need to see it. He could already tell simply by the heavier weight between his legs that it was longer and fatter with a huge pair of nuts to match. He was both anxious and excited to whip it out and see what his new cock looked like. Yet, just as he was about to pull back the waistband on his new gym shorts, Sam caught sight of his legs.
âHoly fuuuuuuuuckk.â Sam blurted out as he saw how thick and powerful his legs looked, simultaneously surprising himself with how deep and manly his voice sounded. âWoah⌠my voice⌠I sound like a real fuckin man.â Sam mumbled to himself in wonder as he rubbed his throat, quickly taking note of his new thick and full beard as he did. Prompting him to then run his hands up towards his face and over his new scruffy beard and rough masculine features. All feeling completely foreign to him yet so right at the same time.
Turning his attention back to his legs, Sam couldnât help but marvel at how huge his calves looked. They were shaped like thick diamonds and would probably be just as hard if he flexed them. Not to mention his juicy thighs too. Sam found himself tugging up his new shorts a little to get a better look at them as well and before long found himself bending down just so he could run his hands over them. Admiring his new quads, hams and calves while also relishing in the layer of manly body hair that coated them too. He couldnât help squeezing and groping his calves for a moment as well just as he had with his pecs.
While he was down there he couldnât help glancing at his trainers as well. Being bent down like this meant he could already smell them faintly. The very trainers that made all this possible. He couldnât help wriggling his feet slightly, delighting in his large they felt now as those damp sweaty gym socks and trainers hugged his feet perfectly. *His* gym socks and trainers.
As his hands glided slowly back up his legs, he couldnât help but let them wander to his backside. After feeling up his legs, he was desperate to know what he was working with back there as well. Thankfully he was more than satisfied as his hands grasped at two incredibly well sculpted globes of thick muscle filling out the back of his shorts. âOh goddddâŚâ He moaned in a deep baritone. âI get a fat cock *and* a fat ass??â He groaned while squeezing and kneading his fat bubbly ass cheeks some more. âI *definitely* made the right choice.â He added with a dumb grin.
At last though, once Sam was finally able to stop groping his own ass, his attention finally returned to the now very evident bulge in his shorts. Itâd been difficult to ignore while he felt his legs and ass. His new thick cock had swelled up to its full rock hard size in all the excitement Sam was feeling and now it was straining painfully against his shorts in the form of a huge tent. At last Sam gave in, tugging on the waistband for both his shorts and boxer briefs before pulling them down just enough for his cock to spring out aggressively.
The way it bucked and pulsed caused Samâs mouth to hang agape for a moment. It was as though he was mesmerised by the mere sight of his new thick cock, eyes fixated on it as though it were a hypnotic pendulum. Before long he found himself gripping it tightly, relishing in its girth. Then, just as heâd begun to pump his cock an intense sensation shot through his groin and up towards his brain. Suddenly a voice began ringing through his head. Wavellâs voice.
âShoot and release your former self. Absorb this identity and become the man you were always meant to be. Shoot and release. Shoot and release!â Those words continued to echo through Samâs mind. Forcing him to jerk faster and faster. He was hardly in control of himself. He just needed to jerk off! He needed to shoot and release!
The sensation was almost beyond pleasure. It felt so good that Sam couldnât hold on any longer as he felt his cock and balls tense. After that all Sam could do was let out a long deep manly roar that filled the small office as he uncontrollably shot huge rope after rope of thick creamy man seed onto the desk in front of him. Letting go of who he was before and allowing everything to finally slot into place.
As his dick continued pulsing while still dripping with cum, Sam was suddenly hit with a wave of new memories belonging to the man whoâs identity heâd now stolen. His new name now was Jonathan Richards, or Jon for short, and his assumption from earlier turned out to be correct. He was indeed a coach, a high school coach at that. He gained memories about all his new colleagues, family members, friends, students and his new self of course.
It was in the flurry of memories that Sam also realised that Jon was a straight man! He even had a wife! For a moment he was worried that heâd have to live out the rest of his life as a straight man as he could feel all of Jonâs personality traits beginning to weld themselves into his mind. But thankfully he remained as gay as ever. He shouldâve known a guy like Wavell would never let that happen. Perfect. From now on this juicy dick would only be fucking juicy man buttâs. Speaking off heâd need to get his own virgin bubble ass fucked as well! It was far too thick and perfect to go to waste.
Thatâs when Sam suddenly remembered about the fate of the real Jon. His soul should still be trapped inside his own trainers! Sam looked down at huge trainers clinging to his feet with a wide grin. He took a seat at one of the desks before untying his laces and pulling off one of the two trainers, delighted to see his now massive foot slide out of it. The moment his foot was free, clad in one of the same sweaty gym socks heâd been sniffing feverishly back at the hotel, the air around him filled with that pungent musk he loved so much. And now it belonged to him!
Sam brought the trainer up to eye level and smirked cockily. âThanks for this hot fucking body Jon. Iâm gonna love every moment of your life from now on. Donât worry though, Iâll be sure to wear you as often as possible so you get to watch me do it. Watch as I blend in with your colleges. Watch as I effortlessly coach your students. Watch as I leave your wife after she walks in on me fucking another dude. Hopefully while Iâm getting this fat hairy ass plowed into.â He gave the possessed shoe a sinister grin.
Just then without warning, Sam stuck his nose inside the trainer and gave it a long deep sniff before pulling back with a gasp. âDamn these huge feet have stunk you up real nice havent they? Better get used to it.â He taunted while stretching his feet inside to the other shoe which he assumed Jon was also inhabiting. âIâm sure it wonât be hard to find some guys who are gonna love huffing my musky scent out of you though.â He laughed in an almost evil tone before reaching down and stuffing his foot back inside the trainer.
With that Sam checked the time. It wouldnât be long now before the other two coaches come back from their lessons. That in mind he quickly got to work cleaning up the sticky mess heâd made all over what now happened to be his desk. But after that he couldnât wait to start blending in as the new Jon from now on.
Meanwhile the real Jon was helpless. He couldnât do a thing as heâd be forced to smell his own sweaty foot musk almost everyday while watching this imposter live out his life! He hoped that someone would notice. That someone would see that this doppelgänger wearing him wasnât *actually* him. Hopefully someone would be able to fix this! But as days passed it became clear that nobody could tell the difference.
Over time Jonâs will would start to weaken as he was forced to sniff his imposter's musk and absorb his sweat constantly. The very sweat and musk that was once his. Now being used against him as it broke down his resolve to the point where he started to wonder if this man thatâd taken over his life really was the real Jon after all. Maybe he really was just a dumb pair of smelly trainers that was supposed to serve his master. Who was he to have any real thoughts of his own? His only purpose was to be a good pair of trainers.
It wouldnât be long before heâd witness the new Jon starting to hook up with other men heâd met online and even one or two of his male colleagues. Fucking them with his huge cock and then acting all slutty and showing off his fat bubble ass whenever he wanted them to breed his hole. It shouldâve been torture. But the soul that inhabited the trainers had accepted his new role now given in completely to his former musk. He wasnât Jon anymore. Jon was his master. He no longer cared about his body or how the new Jon was completely and utterly gay. He did however love it when his master got some horny guy to start shoving their nose inside him.
âââ
âWell, it seems like he was more than satisfied with that body.â Wavell muttered to himself when he eventually checked in on Sam. Or rather Jon as he preferred to be called now. Heâd given it some time and was glad to see just how well things seemed to be going for the former psychic medium.
At it turned out, he walked in on Jon getting his fat gym coach ass fucked by a huge burly bear of a man. Despite Jonâs large stature, this bearish brute still seemed to dwarf him in size as he pinned Jon down and drilled into his hole. From what Wavell could tell, this man was another teacher at the school Jon worked at. He skimmed through the bearâs memories and apparently heâd been craving Jonâs ass for years now but had held off since Jon was straight. Only now that wasnât the case anymore and his dream was coming true at last by finally having the chance to slam into that hot hairy bubble butt on Jonâs.
Wavell then turned his gaze to the pair of trainers sitting across the room. Perfectly positioned so that they could see the entire scene unfold. How very cheeky of Jon.
It was then that the door to the bedroom burst open and in came Jonâs wife! At first her expression was furious, probably having assumed Jon was sleeping with another woman. But her expression quickly turned to shock as she saw another massive man on top of her husband, slamming down into him.
Wavell couldnât help but chuckle at the drama of it all as the wife ran out of the bedroom as fast as her legs would take her. Likely being too shocked to even process what sheâd seen. Meanwhile Jon told the bear to keep going and that heâd deal with his wife after his ass had been stuffed with cum.
After that the warlock was free to sit back and relax as the two men got back into the rhythm. All the while he couldnât help but wonder how Jon was going to handle the situation with his wife and whether he was going to stick with his bearish colleague after this or find some other dudes to fuck. He was definitely going to stick around for awhile to see how all this unfolded.
#mr wavell#male body swap#male body theft#male musk#male tf#male transformation#hunk#magic#hairy#identity theft#male muscle growth#tf by clothing#male teacher#gym coach#teacher swap#straight to gay#mental change#shoes#man smells#smelly socks
175 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Secrets, Soba, & Smiles
Todoroki x gn!reader; teenagers in love, fluff, reader gets caught off guard a bit
notes: thanks for all the love on my last post :) im glad that so many people enjoyed my writing !! the kitchen scene is very artem from tot coded, which makes sense bc ive been obsessed with that game recently. anyways, hope you enjoy !! <3
You peered down the hall, checking to make sure it was clear, before walking towards the elevator.
The soft hum of the door opening led you to walk inside, pressing the button for the fifth floor.
You looked down at your phone to check the time, quickly noticing youâd received a follow up text from your boyfriend.
Before leaving your dorm, you had sent him a message letting him know you were about to be on your way up.Â
You smiled to yourself as the elevator made its way up the floors, shooting him back a quick reply.
More often than not, you found yourselves having these late-night dorm dates as a means to compensate for the lack of public relationship.
Throughout the school day, you two were just seen as close friends, allowing any suspicions to just be laughed off. After all, there was no sense in blatantly lying about your relationship to your friends.
But if you both feigned ignorance, it managed to keep their suspicions at bay.Â
With all earnest, you weren't necessarily trying keeping your relationship with the icy-hot boy a secret from your peers.
You never had concern for them finding out - albeit the barrage of questions and attention may be a bit overwhelming.
If anything, the concern you had was for the general public finding out that two rising heroes had feelings for one another.
You feared the worst case scenario: a villain using your adoration for each other as a weapon.
Maybe you were overreacting, but the nightmare situation it was, you wanted to prevent it in any way you could. So, as a safeguard, the both of you had agreed to just keep things to yourself.
This agreement worked well anyways, as you and Todoroki settled into the awkward ins-and-outs of first time teenage love.
So, yes, for now, things were okay being a sort of âsecretâ.
It was a secret for you two to share.
You were his, and he was yours.
The elevator door opened once more as you reached the fifth floor, stepping out into a familiar, yet different, hallway.
You made your way to your boyfriendâs room, before giving a gentle knock on the door.
Soon enough, the doorknob turned, the door creaked open, and heterochronic eyes met your own.Â
You laughed to yourself before commenting, âwell, I made it here in one piece.â
He gave you a soft smile back, âyeah, you did.â
That was the smile that always managed to killed you.
A smile that you never saw him quite show to anyone but you.
The way his lips turned in adoration, a genuine love and joy meeting his face. His eyes would crease with that smile, and, every time, without fault, youâd melt at that smile.
It was a smile that felt like it was only for you.
Interrupting your star-struck daze, Todoroki tilted his head.
âI meant to tell you before you got here, but I still wanted to grab some snacks from the common room.â
You stood up straight, pulling yourself back together.
âOh, I couldâve just picked them up on the way.â
âItâs not a problem; Iâll just go now. You can set your stuff down. I'll be back shortly."
He started walking past you to begin his quick mission, when you followed on his heels.Â
âIâll come with you! Two people are better than one!â
He paused, gave a nod of appreciation, and the two of you carried on towards the main floor.
The short trip there was spent debating what snacks would be best for this late night excursion, with you insisting that your favorite food was the only way to go.
By the time you'd made it to the kitchen, Todoroki had been pleading his case for soba - per usual.
âLook,â he said, now pointing to a something sat on the shelf of the pantry. âThey still have some left over. We could probably make two servings.â
He met your eyes with diligence, looking like a young child begging for a toy at the store.
As much as your favorite snack was calling your name, you thought to yourself that maybe some cold soba would be nice as well.Â
âFine, but Iâm making the sauce.â You sighed, accepting his pleas. I mean, how could you not when he had given you such a cute look?
He smiled, his invisible tail practically wagging as he pulled out a pot and began to fill it with water.Â
Nearby, you opened up the fridge and pulled out a few ingredients to start making into a light sauce.
You swiftly put on an apron, and started mixing things together before feeling complete with your makeshift recipe.
You took a spoon and dipped it in, giving it a taste. Having it meet your own liking, you called your boyfriend over, making sure it would suit his taste as well.
Continuing to stir, you thought to yourself how something about this unplanned cooking trip had just felt so right
It was almost as if you two were a married couple, working on making dinner together after a long day of work.
The idea made you blush.
Deep inside, these calm nights were the kind you hoped the future would bring many more of.
You were about to turn around and call to him again when you were suddenly met with two arms wrapped around your waist.
You let out a small gasp of surprise as Todoroki took the spoon from your hand, following through on your request and trying the dipping sauce you had made.
He hummed a tone of satisfaction and let his head rest atop your shoulder.Â
âItâs really good, Y/N. Thank you, for your help.â
At that moment, you thanked God that your boyfriend couldn't see your overwhelmingly red face.
You doubt you wouldâve even been flustered if Todoroki wouldnât have pulled that hugging-you-from-behind clichĂŠ.
I mean, heck, he probably didn't even realize he was doing something that even could catch you so off guard.
Your boyfriend probably just thought he was hugging you, sharing his adoration for your cooking and determination.
And here you were, heart going overdrive all over his simple motions.
Having felt your heart rate spike, he let go after a moment, returning back to the care of draining the pot of soba.Â
You took a moment and collected yourself a bit, finally giving a delayed reply:
âYeah, anytime, Sho. Itâs what Iâm here for.â
He looked at you again, turning his gaze away from the sink, and gave you that melting smile of his.
That smile that makes you feel like everything in the world is okay, even if just in this moment.
Somehow that smile managed to calm your panicked heart, reminding you to take this all one step at a time.
You returned his smile with your own. A smile of your own that you hoped he admired just as much as you did his.
ââŚâ
â...SHOTO, THE SOBA-â
all fictional works are for entertainment purposes only. all rights to characters, media, references, and other third party materials belong to their respective owners. do not repurpose, modify, copy, or repost my work to other sites without permission. Š @lebbys-world 2024.
banners from saradika-graphics
#he dropped the noodles down the drain :(#its okay they probably just ordered in afterwards#shoto todoroki#todoroki x reader#shoto todoroki x reader#shoto x reader#shouto todoroki x reader#todoroki x y/n#shoto todoroki x y/n#bnha x reader#mha x reader
365 notes
¡
View notes
Text
David Cain had a backup plan
(I know I literally just made a "Villains backup plan" Post yesterday with Trigon, but I also thought of this)
So! David Cain needed insurance, his Weapon was perfect so far but it didn't hurt to have a backup plan.
He took some of his Weapons DNA and stored it for later Use. When the Weapon escaped, and it became clear that he would not be able to capture it again, he turned to his Backup Plan.
He took the DNA and struck a Deal with a relatively new Villain going by Plasmius. Plasmius would get the DNA to test his Cloning Technology, and in return David would get the Clone once the tests were done.
The Deal was set, and Plasmius asked for 1 Year to complete the Cloning Process and Deliver.
But it seems that Plasmius had other plans.
Instead he took the DNA and incorporated it into the Structure of his own Weapon. An Unstable Clone known as Danielle that he planned to use against his Nemesis, Phantom. Unfortunately for him, his Plans failed and the Clone turned against him, escaping into the world.
Which left Vlad in a bit of a pickle, when 6 months later the Assasin he had made a deal with returned looking for his Weapon. The news did not go over well...
Now, David Cain is on the search for his Second Weapon, and while it may take a while to find it, he knows he will not fail this time.
...
Ellie is having the time of her life! She had escaped from under Vlad's thumb over 2 years ago, and was still exploring the world! Fulfilling her Obsession of Exploration while also reveling in her own Freedom.
She hadn't aged, and probably wouldn't for another 10 years if Frostbite's estimates were right, but she was making it work well enough.
Unfortunately she had recently noticed some shady guys tracking her whenever she stopped in a City, so she couldn't stay for as long anymore, but that was fine.
It was probably just more Fruitloops set on her by Vlad, she had taken care of enough of those guys. It would be easy!
...
6 Months later and she was not fine.
The Fruitloops following her had turned out to he working for an entirely different Fruitloop, who was actually a serious threat. He had gotten his hands on Ecto Weaponry, and was using it to try to capture her.
She wanted to go find Danny, but it turns out he had moved in with Jazz in a different city the moment he turned 17. He just never got the chance to inform her because she had lost her phone back when this whole thing started. He had left a message with Sam and Tucker though.
She thinks they mentioned it being called Gotham, so maybe she can find them there?
#Dpxdc#Dp x dc#Dcxdp#Dc x dp#Danny Phantom#Dc#Dcu#David Cain#Cassandra Cain#Danny Fenton#Danielle Phantom#Dani Phantom#Ellie Phantom#Dani isn't just a Clone of Danny#She is technically his Daughter#With Cassandra since she was the Human DNA used#Cass has no idea about this#All she knows is that David Cain has been active lately searching for something#And it has led him near Gotham#Danny moved out the moment he turned 17#Jazz is 19#Cass is 17 as well btw#Idk if Vlad survived or not#Maybe David Cain didn't have his Ecto Weapons Yet or he didn't know Vlad was a Halfa yet?#Either way Vlad is in hiding
468 notes
¡
View notes
Text
It's been a few months since my last merch haul post, so time for another one! As usual, acrylic stands are my main purchases, with the below set being one of the rarest I've found đ
The reason these are so rare is because I couldn't get them from my usual places on Amiami and Mercari JP. They're from a company called Ultrizon and are currently only sold in China. I saw them advertised on Twitter from a shop in Thailand and decided to reach out on the off chance that the shop would ship to the US. And much to my pleasant surprise, the shop, Chibishiba, replied and said that they would ship to me đ I was a bit concerned because they seemed to be just a small "mom and pop" shop, with only Twitter DMs as their form of communication and they kept track of everyone's orders in a google sheet. But I looked around on their social media and they seemed legit, so I placed an order (a few other fanatics I know on Discord did as well!) And thankfully, they were totally legit! They ordered the items from China, then once they shipped to Thailand, they then shipped to me in the US! Only took a few weeks đ
Here's some more photos because they're so lovely~ For some reason the two Twiyor sets make me think of a scenario where they're going to a dance or other fancy event together (the left ones), but then something happens and they have to switch to "action mode" to stop a villain, save Anya, etc (the right ones).
Bond looks so adorable in his suit~ Also the one of Anya on the left is her totally thinking "Papa and Mama are so cool đ¤Š"
Even though I typically only buy merch with the Forgers, Yuri, Damian, and Franky were also part of this set. Lol, when I made the below photo of the three of them, I laughed because it looks like they're posing for a photo, with only Damian having funâŚYuri's like "whatever" and Franky's like "how long will this take, I have a date!" đ
Besides the Ultrizon acrylics, the other ones I was most looking forward to getting were these chibi ones from the cruise arc (two different sets)
Between all of these, I now have acrylics of the Forgers' full wardrobe from the cruise arc đ
My favorites are suit Yor, "I won't stop fighting" Yor, and Fun Dad Loid!
I really liked these Twiyor acrylics from the recent Tsukuba collab. It's like they're going on a hiking date â¤ď¸
I also got these chibi "famous scene" acrylics from the Waku Waku Park event.
I've been trying so hard to get the complete set of these big acrylics for a few months now...I managed to find Loid and Anya, but no one is selling Yor đ (or Bond). I won't stop looking though!
As for non-acrylic figures, I've been looking forward to getting this Yor & Anya figure for over a year! It was actually one of the first SxF items I preordered, way back in November of 2022! Considering they had the colored prototype available way back then, I'm surprised it wasn't officially released until March of 2024. But worth the wait â¤ď¸
For Code White's release, I got the set of Luminasta figures (all three for a good price on eBay).
Also chibi Loid & Yor~ I know there's a ton of chibi Loid and Yor figures out there, but I really liked these for some reason.
Last month I went back to Kura Sushi for the last merch from their recent collab: this nice shirt~ You were able to get it if your bill was at least $70, which isn't hard to do if you bring a friend with you and you both eat a bunch of sushi! (well, he did most of the eating, lol). I'm planning to wear it for the first time at Anime Expo in July đ
They also had this little Anya dessert.
And miscellaneous items I recently got were these pretty picture cards that I plan to make scans of.
The McDonald's collab booklet, the season 2 complete set box, and the Loid & Anya cloth poster that came with the box. I also plan to make scans of these!
A mug from the Tobu Zoo collab.
And lastly, some new decals for my car! I found this set at Walmart of all places, lol. Found room for them among my other decals.
Since I bought so many new acrylics and figures lately, I had to do a major reorganization of my display shelves. But I'll save those photos for another post~
#spy x family#sxf#spy family#spyxfamily#loid forger#yor forger#anya forger#bond forger#twiyor#sxf merch#damian desmond#becky blackbell#yuri briar#fiona frost#franky franklin
197 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Voya-Nui: An Overview
Hello,
This will be somewhat similar to my 1/10th scale Mata Nui posts, discussing the floating island of Voya-Nui based upon recently revealed information, mainly dealing with its size and role in the initial story.
Warning, this post is embarrassingly long.
Any who have the misfortune of knowing me know I have a rather selective view of what constitutes Bionicle. Essentially I consider Bionicle to have run from 1998 to mid 2002. As a kid I was a die hard fan until 06, where a combination of the marketing and the sets just not being very good caused me to gradually lose interest until I just got one set in 07 and never again bought a Bionicle.
All this preamble is to say that for the longest time I never really knew all that much about Voya-Nui, apart from it being the namesake of a terrible game. Later on, as I got back in to the hobby I heard rumors, dark, twisted rumors. They spoke of a stick making the island fly underwater through a hole, that the island itself was ejected from the body of the robot and left a Voya-Nui sized hole in a continent. Just the ravings of a mad man, so I threw it in the bin along with everything in Bionicle after the Toa go in to the Bohrok hives in 02 and moved on with my life.
Fast forward to now, and Christian Faber starts releasing some development materials through a humanoid water fowl, and this very interesting image is among what's released
This image made everything click for me and I fell in love with Voya-Nui as a concept.
But I think before revealing the original intent, its important to explain the "canon" sequence of events surrounding the so called "Island of Doom"
ISLAND OF DOOM, A PRIMER
Okay so there's a big robot sleeping in an ocean, one day its heart pops and a chunk of land that was on top of the heart breaks out of its chest and starts floating in the ocean. The island, I must add, survived this event, as the hole it left is the same shape and size as the final island.
Now the island floats around for a bit, the volcanic crater on it eventually builds up a large land mass in the middle of the bay, the people on it (yes there were people on the island when it got ejected, and they survived the event) decide that this is the best place to build a city.
It turns out that wasn't the best place to build a city as the new land mass breaks off and somehow anchors it to the sea floor.
Eventually some guys show up and break the anchor cord and the island, inexplicably, sinks down under the water, and manages to go right back in to the hole it made and everything returns to normal.
In some blog post it was explained that there was a magic wand that fixed everything that was used at the same moment.
This is the canonical sequence of events.
More like island of dumbš.
THE ORIGINAL CONCEPTS
Okay now that all that unpleasantness is out of the way, we can start with the actually interesting things.
There are so many details to cover here, I think the best way to organise them would be to present everything roughly chronologically.
The scenario is the same, a massive robot crash lands in a large ocean, its completely under the water outside of its face, upon which the larger island of Mata Nui forms.
From the beginning its very different, there's no large landmass over the heart (in fact the very idea of the robot itself being full of various domes with islands in them is very suspect but this post is already long enough). The heart is a reactor, and consists of a massive spherical cavity in the chest. Something occurs and the heart pops open, a small panel or valve on the perimeter of the reactor core's wall bursts out of the chest of the robot. Through this hole sea water begins to flood in-this is important!
The ejected panel floats, and some sort of system within it cools it down, causing the sea water to freeze, essentially turning it in to a massive iceberg. There's also mentions of it being magnetic, the final island is described as looking somewhat like a magnet run over a factory floor. It probably also attracted debris from the sea bed as it floated through the seas. As you can see in that diagram the core is filled with massive long cables and the island eventually gets anchored by a long cable, so that's possibly where that came from!
Over years the island grows and grows as it floats around the oceans, being buffeted around by the currents. Eventually part of it becomes unstable and breaks off, sinking to the ocean floor, and since a large cable was attached to both pieces, it anchors the island in place.
Now we get to the crucial part. In the canon depiction of events the most baffling thing is why does breaking the anchor rope make it sink? Now we come back to this image:
When the panel popped out it left a hole. Water is pouring back in to the hole, forming a giant whirlpool. The robot is so massive that even after all these years of constant flooding the cavity on the inside is still not even half full. Voya-Nui was caught in the whirlpool's strong currents when the island broke up. This impromptu anchor stopped it just as it was about be pulled in! Then the super strong currents from the whirlpool gave it the distinctive curved shape.
So now we know why destroying the cable holding it in place causes the floating island to sink: once untethered its free to be pulled in to the whirlpool! The island that formed around the panel would break off and the panel would basically be a giant plug and stop the flow of water flooding in to the reactor.
Figuring this all out was such a revelation, taking one of the most nonsensical sequences of events in the series and transforming it in to this completely logical scenario which, from the point of view of the characters involved, is still quite mysterious and oblique, but when looked at from the perspective of repairing this giant robot it makes perfect sense.
And we were robbed. Imagine the Mata Nui rising sequence of animations starting off with a whole island being pulled in to a whirlpool.
THE CORE
This is getting a bit beyond the main focus of the island, but I just want to talk about the core itself because there were a few interesting tidbits there as well. Its a very evocative setting which I feel suffered greatly and few of the interesting parts were conveyed well in the story.
The water streaming through the hole is described as having some sort of light emitting reaction to the part of the reactor its hitting, lighting the whole chamber. Steam from the reaction swirls upwards and vaporised materials from the heat of the reaction collect on the roof, forming massive stalactites that eventually fall, creating this jagged forest of stone needles within the massive pool of water, water which's temperature varies depending on how close it is to the reaction.
Really seems a shame that in the final story it was simplified down to "sky" and "swamp". Just imagine, this forest of stone, shrouded in fog, lit by this flickering unearthly light emanating from the centre. You have the added aspect of once Voya-Nui has returned to its rightful place the water fall would cease, leading to the light dwindling until the whole area is pitch black.
MISCELLANEOUS OTHER NOTES
One major feature of the island that was missing from the earlier ice and rock version is the massive lava crater, supposedly from the mask of life². I had been toying with the idea that the volcano formed the rest of the island around the panel, but with how much larger the island was it just didn't make sense, so the ice and magnetism really helped out there!
Its said that the ice formed as some sort of self defence mechanism, like an organ freezing itself to preserve itself in an emergency. Personally though I have this little idea that the panel was actually something like the cooling system for the reactor, and without it the reactor was going to over heat, but luckily it was kept just cool enough by the falling water. The cooling system, being linked somehow to the main robot, detects that the reactor was over heating and starts working over time to cool it, leading to it freezing the surrounding ocean and making itself in to a massive iceberg, but as it wasn't connected to the robot's core and nothing it did had any effect, it ends up overheating itself, causing the pool of lava on the top. But that's just a little fan idea.
Another one I have is that the island, when it was floating freely, may have passed next to Mata Nui, close enough to be sailed too, at some point far in the past. Explaining how there would be inhabitants on it despite it getting shot out of the robot like a bullet.
Also it would be remiss of me to not mention that even though the canon depiction of events makes no sense, the whirlpool is briefly seen in the 100% ending of the torture device Bionicle Heroes.
But this is much smaller, and seems to only have just opened up in the bay. Rather than being something to do with the hole it made it seems this is more about how the mask they were seeking went underwater.
SCALE!
Time to talk sizes!Âł
This drawing is especially useful here, as it shows all 3 major objects in question all relative to each other. Yes Voya-Nui is there, its the tiny little dot on the bottom right. So I simply took the height maps for Voya-Nui, used them to make a quick little model in the same fashion as my Mata Nui, and brought in my old GSR model. I scaled them all to the Mata Nui from my last posts, and guess what! It all lines up perfectly.
The Voya-Nui Model is the exact right size it should be, according to this map:
And what was more impressive, was that the GSR turned out to be pretty much bang on with this even older concept art:
Scaling the GSR was a more bit awkward, as the final design is more gangly compared to this drawing, but lining up the torsos worked really well!
And now let us visit the 1/10th scale Mata Nui and meet Geroge. A new island has floated up off Ta-Wahi beach and he want's to explore a bit!
Excuse the monochrome island, the height maps I'm using are actually quite different from the final island.
There is a height map more accurate to the final island, but that one didn't have an underside. The little islets in the bay were also neat.
The large lava lake in the centre is roughly 250 metres across. Its nothing compared to Mata Nui's caldera, but its still very huge when you get down to the ground level.
The panel that forms the centre of the island is massive as well.
Approximately 550m wide, and 900m tall. Just think of the massive reactor core this thing popped out of!
Seeing it separate from the island really puts it in perspective.
Imagine this thing shooting out of the robot's chest like a bullet.
I'll just quickly mention, earlier on I posted that map of all the internal islands. If you use the size of metru nui on there you can scale Voya-Nui appropriately, and you end up with this.
Its less a small panel popping out of the heart and more the scene from Alien at this point.
CONCLUSION
This has been quite a rambly post, but there was just so much information to cover. I left out a lot of details. This whole thing just makes me very excited, sorry.
I just think its such a beautifully elegant scenario that really adds a lot to the setting and story, rather than just having yet another new island, but this time the island is mean. I find it quite interesting how everything would have sorted itself out, if not for the island breaking in half. There's no Machiavellian plots, no scheming, no betrayal, just an unfortunate occurrence that makes a bad situation worse, and everyone has to work to fix it. It was utterly butchered in the final story. It makes me quite sad for what could have been. Just picture it, this floating island getting pulled towards a massive whirlpool, the outer island breaking off as it spirals deep down underwater until this long, tarnished metal plug is revealed to have been at the centre. With a huge impact it closes up the hole, fitting back perfectly where it came from, managing to avert the disaster of the flood waters growing ever higher inside the core of this robot.
But in any case, really the important take away is, Voya-Nui is just a rip off of Noah's Island when you get down to it.
I'll leave you with a photograph of George waving hello to his large friend.
Have a nice day/night[delete whichever is inappropriate]!
š-You know its true. ²-Not to be confused with the Mask o' Flight, the film staring a swarm of Tahnok. Âł-Please note, I am using 1 kio = .1 km as per my previous posts, if this offends you simply multiply every number in this post by 43.75966487787žⴠâ´-Yes even this one.
While I was working on this I made some more revelations about the core which will probably need its own post. ;_; This thing already took 3 days to make....
#Bionicle#hypothesis#writeup#Mata Nui#Voya Nui#Great Spirit Robot#I managed to do this whole thing with only mentioning the characters of the story twice :)#quack
117 notes
¡
View notes
Note
sshshshshsh heyhey could i have some uhh aqua hoshino x streamer!reader
I feel like such a genius for thinking about this my third eye has been opened
status | aqua hoshino x streamer!fem!reader
a/n: THIS IS SUCH A UNIQUE REQUEST??!!!??? THANK U SM ANON!!
summary: aqua being madly infatuated with you ever since he had saw you streaming.
- âIf the world was against us, then Iâm against the world.â
You are definitely in for a treat, definitely.
Before Aqua had met you, he was not that quite.. expressive? He had a cold demeanor, You can call him stern, but not too quite.
When Aqua was silently working on the little short trailer of a video that the team he was working with in âLove nowâ was gonna post, He came across you in the internet.
You were streaming in youtube, Your hair looked good and it looks recently brushed. You were talking to your fans since you were popularâ heck, you even knew Mem-cho! You were slightly more popular than her which caused you to have a lot of viewers.
The girl was talking about her life and desires, how sheâd want to be an idol someday. Aqua narrowed his eyes at the screen, staring deep into your galactic eyes.. How mesmerizing. He wouldnât admit that
You were acting all so bubbly and giddy, showing your viewers some stuff in your room. And, to be honest, Aqua enjoyed watching you. Or was he just tired? He was tired from editing the short clip, he just laid his head down the table and using his arms as support while he looked at the laptop, gazing into your eyes that wasnât even staring into his own.
He then sighed and closed the laptop, standing up while he went outside to grab the juice Yuki was going to gave him.
Aqua went out, Mem-cho went inside and opened the laptop, checking if the video had gotten more popular but she was greeted by a familiar face.
âOh! Itâs [Name]!â The blondie muttered to herself, wondering what was the tab doing in the laptop.
âHuh.. Aqua left the room last.â
Aqua decided to take a stroll outside the building, not too far but not too near. He was walking down the sidewalks when he felt like he should get a snack. He went to the nearest store and went inside, the bell on top of the door ringing.
Aqua sighed to himself and grabbed some chips, To his surprise there was a girl next to him.
She looked up at the shelf and grabbed the same chips Aqua had got but a different flavor, The girl smiled brightly to herself and adjusted her cap.
Aqua looked at her, He was 2 inches taller than her if he could presume.. She looked oddly familiar.
âMiss⌠Uh.. Have I seen you somewhere?â Aqua asked softly, his eyes narrowing at the girlâs cap which was colored white.
The girl looked up at him, Aqua widening his eyes at the realization it was the streamer had come across earlier.
âWell thatâs interesting. People can still recognize me?â You mumbled, sighing in disbelief while you headed over at the cashier and placed your chips down at the counter.
Aqua hummed and followed, right behind you while he waited in line. It was awkward.. The only sound you could hear was the cashierâs machine clacking and doing such beeps.
The girl turned and looked at Aqua, smiling warmly. â[Name], At your service.â She introduced, and left while the bell rang.
Aqua stared off into the door, following your figure until it has dissipated. He looked down at the chips and put it down the counter.. Somehow, He felt.. attached. He couldnât explain why, It was definitely not the universe playing tricks on both of you⌠right?
Ever since Aqua met you in real life, He couldnât stop. As in, He couldnât stop checking your profile everyday to see if you have a new video or stream. Truth be told, He watched every single video you had made and streams. Even if they were past streams, He still persevered to watch it.
Aqua felt comfortable and satisfied whenever he would rewatch a video of yours when you wonât post due to lack of motivation, but he would always check. Everyday, Everynight.
One day as you set up your computer, You thought of the fair blonde guy you met at the shop. You smiled at the thought, knowing it was the same guy you supported in the show âLove nowâ and the upcoming Tokyo Revenger live action.
You started streaming and viewers rushed in the stream, waiting for other viewers to arrive while a certain username joined.
âAquaHoshino⌠Are you a fan or the guy himself?â You chuckled, the viewers commenting of how cute and adorable your smile is while the user you had mentioned didnât reply.
Meanwhile, through the other screen, Aqua couldnât contain himself when his tongue slipped out of your mouth. He kept staring at your face, He didnât know why, but the word that fits to what he kept on doing for the past few months was definitely âInfatuationâ.
Considering he was a doctor before, âcourse he knew what this thing was. But it took him quite a long time to accept that he was inlove with you. A streamer who makes money off it.
Aqua just entered Strawberry Productions since Miyako called for him, only to find out that you, yes you, had signed a contract. Turns out Mem-cho had invited you and both of you were conversing with eachother on the green couch.
Miyako smiled and walked up to Aqua. âWe have a new member.â She spoke with a soothing voice. Aqua flinched when he saw you, You both held eye contact until you smiled.
Oh shit, That was the best thing he ever saw. (except Aiâs smile) His heart melted, feeling it race like a sports car. Aqua cleared his throat and turned away, trying to hide the redness creeping up to his face while Mem-cho merely giggled. âYour so charismatic, [Name]-chan.â Mem-cho teased to which Aqua sighed at, He left the area to not get embarrassed any further and went to his room, leaving a very confused [Name]. and he would probably sabotage things a bit because he doesnt want you to be an idol, being a streamer is already making you tired and he doesnât want that.
And since then, You would always talk to him with the most giddy-est personality ever. He would reply in short answers but he enjoyed your company, he wasnât going to say that straightforwardly to you but might as well include it.
He would enjoy the peaceful silence you both shared in benches, school cafeterias, living rooms, and so many more places!
Aqua would probably be clingy to you in private, He isnât a fan of PDA but he would gladly let you if you would do the first move or if heâs.. ehem.. jealous.
He once saw you conversing too much with a male employee at the cinema counter since you asked to join him in the mall which he couldnât decline at. Only to find out another person was going to spend all your time with him.
Aqua approached with the popcorn he had bought and gave one to you, glaring at the employee. You thanked him while he simply nodded.
He took your hand and intertwined it with his, which made your heart pounding like some sort of wildebeest in a stampede.
And you both enjoyed that day.
bonus:
Aqua had confessed, inside the store you both first met. The cashier looked very amused while imaginary stars appeared beside her.
âW-what..?â You stuttered, blushing a pink hue at the sudden confession Aqua had made, since he just kind of.. said that so fast.
Aqua sighed with the tip of his ears were flaming red while his cheeks were red too. âIâm not repeating that.â He blurted out, looking away while he kept a blank expression though the color of his cheeks say otherwise.
Being his girlfriend made you realize how hard is life is, how he would risk anything just to get justice for his mother. Which he told you after a few not a few months of dating. He got comfortable around you and you would always be there to comfort him during his nightmares, And he would always be there for you whenever you get a hate comment that gets you really insecure.
To be honest, You would probably wake up one day and getting the news of the person who kept on hating on you suddenly so quiet⌠I wonder what your lovely red flag boyfriend did.
#oshi no ko#aqua hoshino x reader#requests open#oshi no ko x reader#aqua hoshino#aquamarine#aquamarine hoshino#ai hoshino#aqua x reader#aquamarine x reader#aquamarine hoshino x reader#ruby hoshino#mem cho#aqua hoshino x you#aqua hoshino x y/n#aquamarine hoshino x you#oshi no ko x you#oshi no ko x y/n
588 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Hello! Sorry guys I broke my arm lol and it was my right arm too so writing was on the back burner for me. I even had to take a final with my left hand. But dw guysss I came back so alpha sigma skibidi đđđşđş I hope you enjoy whatever the heck of writing this is that I never posted because it felt stupid and doesnât even make sense to me âšď¸âšď¸Â
Pairing: Satoru Gojo x fem!Reader x Suguru Geto
Synopsis: Takes place a bit after the star plasma incident (written in multiple POVS) (trigger warning(?) Scars and bloody injury.)
Word Count: 1,455
The scorching summer day slowly faded into an orange-purple hue welcoming the stars and saying goodbye to the sun. Something youâd usually notice but everything recently just looked dull. You found yourself ignoring it⌠Dismissing the moment under the guise of saying youâd see it the next day⌠something youâd been saying a lot recently.
You were walking to your dorm coming back battered from a mission. You didnât even notice the blood stain on your arm or the aching pain from how deep the curse had punctured you. Youâd been biting more than you could chew recently with missions and who were the higher-ups to deny a special grade actually wanting to do something? You needed the distraction⌠Your mind being miles away âwell no more like stuck in timeâhence why a grade two curse was able to almost get the jump on you.
You look down to the thin paper cut like scars on your hands tucking them under your sleeves it seemed to be a permanent karmic reminder of that day⌠When Gojo and Geto became Suguru and Satoru⌠But at what cost? A trauma bond? The loss of a promising young girl? The over exertion of all your techniques? The questioning of all your morals?
GojâSatoru didnât let anyone get behind him for a while. Itâs subtle but you noticed itâŚ. Or were you just projecting that hurt? Suguru being a different story all together.. it was a rare occurrence to see him anymore⌠You never know how much a presence is needed until itâs wellâŚgone.
You let out a breath your eyes feeling heavy yet you werenât sleepy this had been going on for a while since then⌠Instead of bee-lining for your dorm like usual in which youâd usually cross paths with Satoru whoâd be talking to Shoko about whatever it was they would talk about, you were too tired to pay attentionâŚ
You walk straight to the student common area to make yourself some tea. You didnât even notice Getoâs presence until you saw his figure in front of you in the dim lit kitchen area.. You just give him a slight bow of the head in greeting. In which his eyes rake over your form. His presence didnât seem right⌠but then again nothing did these days.
You didnât realize that you subconsciously made tea for two. Why had you done that? You set a cup in front of him. He gives you another once over almost like he was surprised. Then he does so again the moment you take a seat beside him.
He murmurs something, you make it out to be a thanks but it was hard to tell because he kept his gaze down his shoulders slouched as if he was carrying the weight of the world on them.
You notice the bags under his eyes ,the attire heâs wearing, the way his hair looks, his slouched shoulders⌠His once vibrant violet irises, that reminded you of purple Hydrangeas were now withering purple Hyacinths. Even like this he was still a breathtaking site. You were snapped out of your thoughts when he unexpectedly spoke a bit louder for you to hear this time, breaking the silence that would leave even a feather to be heard if it fell.
âYouâre hurt.â
His voice had a rough coarse edge to it, yet hearing it after so long it could be mistaken as silk to you. How long had it really been since you heard him speak? You take one hand off the hot tea cup you were holding going across to touch the wound on your left shoulder. You graze over the wound staring down at the crimson on the pads of your middle and ring fingers. Now that he pointed it out it started to sting. âOh itâs really nothââ
He cuts you off by taking your wounded arm and rolling your sleeve up. He doesnât fail to notice the way you almost instinctively retract your arm the scars from the Star Plasma incident stoping at your elbows⌠he knew you over exerted your blood technique back then but not by how much. He clenched his jaw at the site rolling the fabric up further eying the fresh wound on your shoulder.
His hands were cold you thought to yourself. Cold but softâŚYou manage to say something before you could get lost in his touchâhis movements⌠Even in this state he did everything with such grace⌠âItâs nothing⌠really itâll heal on its oââ
Why were you always neglecting yourself? He found himself thinking.
His mind was everywhere but worrying about you seemed to be the only constant.
Even though the both of them werenât speaking much he could tell Satoru was also worried about you with the way he conviently needed to go to the girls dorm to talk to Shoko every time he saw you walking back on campus from a mission.
Suguru knew he wasnât one to talk about appearances at all considering he could barely muster the energy to do well⌠anything. Yet somehow he found himself drinking the tea you made him, he found himself actually enjoying it,savoring the taste on his tongue as much as he could. He hears your pitiful attempt to downplay the situation quickly shutting that down with a knowing look. He felt the ghost of a grin purse his lipsâŚit was almost amusing to him how fast you had stopped yourself.
Your eyes widen a bit seeing even the undertone of a smile on his lips. How long were you missing noâ craving his presence. His hands were cold yet even the slightest curl of his lips felt so warm. You clear your throat a bit when he grabs the first aid kit beginning to clean your wound wincing a bit at the stinging sensation.
âDonât be such a big baby.â
Says someone with an airy tone that betrays hints of something you couldnât quite catch. Worry? Sympathy? Pity? Concern? You didnât know but something about it was as everything was these days âŚoff.
You turn your head looking up at him. You were so lost in the moment with Suguru you hadnât sensed Satoruâs presence behind you.
His arms were crossed leaning his back against the wall raking over your form, his eyes narrowing in on your wound. The scars from that day still sent a mess of anger surging through him. Why was that? Why did it pain him to see you hurt? Why did it pain him to see you so clearly neglecting yourself? Why were you so casual about it? More over why did he care? Why was he finding himself wanting to pamper you?
He glances at his best friendâŚif you could even call them that right now.. Satoru knew he was going through something but he was afraid. For the second time in his life he found himself afraid of somethingâŚWhat if everything crumbles the moment he points something out? Since when did he find himself feeling doubt? Why did it always have to be about you two?
Suguru doesnât look up from your wound but his grip on your arm tightens ever so slightly as if he wasâŚnervous of Gojo's presence. It had been so long since the three of you were together. The tension between the two was thick almost enough that it could be cut with a knife. You let out a light laugh your eyes crinkling a bit at the sides as you shake your head in response to Satoruâs words .
You hadnât noticed the way both of their eyes widened ever so slightly. Geto looking up at Gojo, both of them silently communicating...something. You turned your attention back to Sugurus hands now wrapping a bandage around the wound on your shoulder. For some reason the tension seemed to visibly dissipate Suguru finally speaking, the ghost of a smile returning on his lips.
âLike youâre one to talk Satoruâ
He says his voice still tired but now with hints of playfulness to it.
Satoru pauses for a brief almost unnoticeable moment before clutching his hand to his heart in a dramatic display of mock offense, letting out a gasp.
You smile a warm one this time looking down at your now patched up shoulder, Suguruâs touch still lingering.. Why did you find yourself always craving more of it? You realize you smiled more in this hour than you did in the last two weeks. Their bickering filled the room feeling so warm the atmosphere beginning settle into something so foreign yet so familiar at the same time.
Everything would definitely not go back to normal but you three⌠maybe... You three would be okay.
I donât really know how to feel about this to be honestâŚ. I find myself pulling my hair out when it comes to witting Gojo. Trying to write him in a way that isnât over saturated in fannon because heâs just way more complex than that but still finding myself unsatisfied with the way i write him because it doesnât feel canon (but then again nothing will be because its FANFICTION). Oh and donât get me started on dialogue its like pulling teeth taking me half an hour to figure out if they would really say the most simple phrase or if they would really react in such a way. Sorry if this disappointed you guys anyway as always thanks so much for the love on my last posts!! Also thanks so much for reading! Constructive criticism and feedback is always appreciated!!
I was tweaking my old writing and it spiraled into this long mess. I like to think that Suguru would be more assertive in situations where the reader is hurt just the silent type⌠Like heâs mad but quiet in his words but body language tells another story⌠while Satoru is similar but much more⌠aggressive... maybe? Like he would berate the reader loudly for not taking care of the wound tease her for being âweakâ but also patch it up best he could even though he doesnât really know how to??? I donât know mann I just be yapping đđ
Also sorry for any inaccuracies again you can totally nit pick me I love getting better at writing! (Not too much though I have a fear of rejection) due to well uhmm my broken arm⌠haha⌠I couldnât catch up on JJK as well as I hoped⌠youâd think Iâd be able to laze around but nooo⌠I had to be an actual person and do stuff đđ so yeah just feel free to tell me if I made an error in any concept!
Taglist: (I'm not sure if this is the writing you guys wanted to be tagged in but let me know and i'll remove it but thanks for liking my writing enough to want be tagged!! Like seriously it makes me jump for joyđđ˝ââď¸đđ˝ââď¸ also i have no clue how to tag so if i did it wrong let me know and ill fix it) @colorful-happy-shit , @ami20019
#jujutsu kaisen#geto x reader#gojo x reader#jjk fanfic#gojo satoru#geto suguru#jujutsu kaisen fandom#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk angst#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#fanfics#gojo x reader x geto#satoru x reader x suguru#fem!reader
64 notes
¡
View notes
Text
you cut your hair, and take some space. (1)
pairing. narcos!javier peĂąa x fem!reader
synopsis. an anthology of events that precede and procede the termination of you and your father's best friend's sexual relationship. this is part 1 of 3 ! (part 2)
warnings. no use of y/n! all spanish text is followed by immediate translation (please note that i am fluent in castilian spanish, therefore some words/phrases may differ from that of other hispanic countries), age gap , student!reader, dbf!javi, post-s3!javi, officer!javi bc i said so, break up au, mutual pining, forbidden lovers kind of vibes, reader has a healthy relationship with her parents, so much crying ( reader spends half her time crying over javi p which is honestly a mood ), violence, nondescript depictions of sa ( not javi ), smut ( creampie, breeding kink through the roof, domesticity kink?? javi just wants to love and be loved and start a family, dacryphilia, indecent use of a credit card, spanking, dirty talk, prostitution kink?? i feel like i'm making these up at this point, + a hell of a lot more ) this fic is based on bsc by maisie peters except this has a happy ending bc im a sucker for mr. peùa :( not all warnings listed here appear in this part, these are warnings for the fic as a whole !
word count. 15k
hydeâs input. this was written over the course of four months and could easily be used in court to prove i am, in fact, unequivocally in love with one mr. javier peĂąa. if you take the time to read it, just know i appreciate it so much. i really poured my heart and soul into this and, as someone who's been writing for years, it's been so long since i've written something so self-indulgent that's brought me nothing but joy to write. as the fic has surpassed 40k words, meaning it would likely crash the tumblr site for anyone trying to read it, i've decided to post it in three parts. the fic will be posted in full on ao3 once all three parts are available on tumblr!
âi told you, corazĂłn mia (my heart),â he can't meet your eyes. âmade it clear from the start i wasn't looking for anything serious.â âi know,â you heave in a breath, hold back a sob. âbut if it wasn't serious, why'd you treat me like it was?â
I cut my nose to save some face You cut your hair and take some space.
The mirror is not clean enough to see yourself.
Where there are usually your eyes, thereâs a discoloured splotch of brown. A crack runs down the left of what should be your face. Someoneâs taken it upon themselves to draw a cartoon penis just where your mouth is. But in your drunken haze and laser focus, you donât care enough to notice. All you see is the spot where your nose is, a tiny ball of silver nestled just above your right nostril.
Itâs something new to fidget with.
On the flip side, it stings like a bitch. Or, more appropriately, like the tequila shots that led you to this run-down tattoo parlour.
You wonder if, come the morning and mental clarity, youâll regret it.
If you do, youâll blame him.
Your night was going fine. Good, even. And, with a lack of good nights in the recent week, that was an accomplishment.
Youâd dressed up, let loose, had fun. A friend on either arm and a drink close at hand, youâd giggled and gossiped your way through this impromptu girlsâ night.
Theyâd ambushed you, in a way, forced their way through the barricade of tissues and take-out boxes into your apartment. A skimpy dress tossed at your head and four hands dragging you, limb by limb, into the shower.
Get some dinner, hit the town, get fucked up. That was the plan they set out for you.
You skipped dinner, dove head-first into the town.
You were careful all night to never speak of him.
One part fearful it would summon him, another part embarrassed to admit just who youâd gotten tangled up in. A third part, tucked away in a locked closet, ready to do it all over again.
And then it happened.
You didnât say his name, no.
Not aloud.
You thought it, for just a second, hearing the person beside you at the bar order the same drink youâd watched him nurse time after time. It wasnât him but, instead, a man far too short and a clean-cut kind of handsome to even begin to compare to the ex-agent.
But it was enough to make you want to leave.
Giving up your space, youâd made your way back to your girls and made up some little white lie, surprised neither of them called you out on it- what kind of bar doesnât have white wine?
They left to find someplace with wine, you left to find some peace of mind.
The bar they dragged you into was familiar, the setting of many of your fatherâs stories. It only took you walking through the door, tugging down the dress-too-short, to hear your name called across the floor.
âHey kiddo!â Your dadâs a tell-tale kind of drunk, his eyes giving away even the smallest sip of alcohol he has. He was just tipsy, scooting his way out of a tattered booth to wrap you up in his arms. It felt as nice as it did guilt-inducing, knowing youâd been avoiding his calls all week since The Incident. A punishment to yourself more than one aimed at him. âYou here yourself? Could join us for the night, if you like. Ainât that right, boys?â
It was only then that youâd realised two men were sat within the booth, collars undone and ties loosened after a weekâs work.
There were usually three of them.
"Weâre just waiting on PeĂąa." Oh god, it made you feel sick. Heart in your throat, stomach at your feet. His name no longer feels real, not when spoken by anyone but you.
âAnd raising bets on his tardiness,â one of your fatherâs friends said. You recognised him from a few of the barbecues and Christmas parties your dad's thrown. He's nice, responsible. Married, to a woman his own age. âIâm saying heâs chasing some tail. God knows he could use some stress relief. Boyâs been wound up all week, nearly bit my head off for asking him about some files."
Itâs a wonder none of the three men- one a retired lawyer, the other two members of the force- noticed the blood drain from your face.
âMy guess is heâs pulled some muscle in his back and canât get himself out of bed,â a nudge from your fatherâs elbow, delivered straight to your ribs. âWhatcha think, kiddo?â
You didnât have an answer.
You didnât get to give an answer.
âYou need to quit speaking âbout me like youâre not a whole decade my senior, viejo (old man),â it came from behind you and threatened you to look. Like the foolish final-girl in a slasher, you ignored your basic instincts and glanced over your shoulder.
Youâre not sure what you were expecting, but you know what you were hoping for.
Tired eyes, chewed lips, unkept facial hair. A twitch of sadness drawn between his brows and the stains of cigarette ash on a worn-out suit.
Javier PeĂąa was none of that.
The suit, grey. One that fit him all too well and had you wishing you could stain it with your drink.
The signature moustache, perfectly groomed, sitting perched above the bow of his pouty lips, rosy-red and fresh for picking.
His eyes have always given him away but, staring down at you in that moment, they read only as passive, unaffected.
It was like, nothing.
And, yes, thatâs what youâd asked for- from now on, whenever you see me, can you at least pretend that none of this happened?
But he's smart enough to know you didn't mean it, right?
âHey officers, sorry to interrupt but,â a hand curled around your arm. It tugged and you let yourself be inched away from heavy brown eyes and your fatherâs smile. âSheâs ours for the night. Weâre going clubbing!â
That was never part of the plan.
Neither was skipping dinner, though.
You caught the back of him as you were dragged away, some pleading from your father to take it easy and call me in the morning, and noticed it only then.
His hair, freshly cut.
ââS getting too long,â a mumbled sort of thing, hidden in your neck, spoken against your pulse. A kiss placed upon it, and then another for extra measure. Fingers dragging through his hair, ridding him of the knots your very same hands had worked into them an hour of passionate touching ago. âLo sĂŠ (I know).â
A pause of silence. The blissful moan birthed from nails on his scalp. And, then, âno. Itâs nice, I like it.â
That puppy-dog stare, so particular to the cool-down moments between you, meets your own, chin propped upon your sternum. Heâs sweet like this, honeyed skin and pleasant smiles.
âYeah?â He asks, like he even needs to. âYou like it, corazĂłn (sweetheart)?â You opt for a hummed confirmation, finger tracing over the arch of his nose. âGuess I better keep it this way, then.â
Now heâs gone and chopped the overgrown curls off.
In a way, it feels like heâs cut you off with them.
We donât speak cause itâs too tricky But if Iâm tricky, whyâd you kiss me?
The next time you see him, a wedding is taking place.
He sits on the groomâs side, you sit on the brideâs.
It feels unreasonable to be surprised by his presence. Why wouldnât he be here, sitting four rows from the back, at his cousinâs brother-in-lawâs wedding?
The bride is gorgeous, the groom is in tears. The priest drones on a little too long.
Somewhere between the exchanging of vows, and the ceremonial kissing, and the cheering of guests, your instincts get the better of you and you glance back at him.
Heâs already staring right back, eyes ignited with something that weakens your knees and shakes your confidence. The newlyweds walk down the aisle, cut through your line of sight. Heâs still staring at you when theyâve passed.
The reception takes place in the events room of some glammed-up hotel, the kind you can barely afford the one night youâre booked in for.
An open bar, a local band. The catering is tasteful, handpicked by the couple, and the table you feast at is so far away from his that you donât get that chance to see if he chose the chicken or the beef.
You find a friend behind the bar, in the shape of a bottle and toothpick-impaled olives.
You dance till your feet hurt, slip away to your table, take off your heels. Youâre back on the dance floor in time to catch the bouquet, too busy basking in the envy of the other women to notice his eyes burning a hole in the back of your head.
If it werenât for the dent in your bank account made by the room you booked, youâd gladly dance away the whole night. But if a bed with a view costs double your rent, youâll be damned if you donât get to sleep in it.
So you stumble to the elevator.
Clutch your heels and flowers to your chest, struggle to remember your floor number. The fifth floor seems to ring a bell, but it mightâve been the eighth floor. Your room key! Maybe, you hope, thatâll have your floor number on it. You struggle with your purseâs zipper, trying your best to pry it open.
You succeed, but at what cost? Heels and bouquet tumble to the floor, thumping and clunking as they knock against it, flower petals falling loose.
You try to bend down, stretch your fingers out to grasp the clasps, seize the stems. A wave of exhaustion mixed with too much alcohol washes over you and you stand up straight again. Take a calming breath, do a little song and dance before reaching down again.
âDĂŠjame. (Let me.)â
Scuffed shoes come into view as youâre halfway down, bent at the waist and holding your balance with one arm against a wall. You stand up straight, too fast, lose your balance and stumble forward.
He catches you.
For a moment, it feels like youâve never left his arms.
âCâmon, letâs get you to your room.â You hate the way he ends his sentence, no term of endearment and no impure intentions.
He asks for your floor, you give him your key. He punches the number into the elevator and it shakes to life.
Neither one of you makes an attempt to part. Thereâs a chance he pulls you closer to him. You let yourself melt, regardless, muscles relaxing and sinking into his arms.
Heâs still warm. Heâs still steady. but his cologneâs different and it makes your eyes sting.
Youâd warned him he was about to run out of his signature bottle, made a note to buy him another one for his birthday or Christmas, whichever came first.
âYou look like you had fun,â he rasps out, eventually, as the elevator slips past the fifth floor.
âI did,â you tell a partial truth. You would have had more fun, if heâd stood at your side, ate at your table, danced in your arms. But you canât say that, because he doesnât want that.
âIâm glad.â
It turns out your floor is the ninth. Heâs careful to guide you out the mobile-box, hand on your hip, pressing you to his side. Your heels dangling from one of his fingers and the bouquet gripped in his palm, smacking against his thigh every other step. A little down the hall and there you find it, your precious and expensive home for the night.
Itâs easier to let him open the door, he tells you.
Itâs easier to let him guide you to bed, you tell yourself.
Dropping the heels on the floor, he disappears out of your line of sight and you stare motionless at the ceiling above, buzzing in your brain and pain in your heart.
Youâve never shared a space like this with him, one thatâs hollow and decayed. The shell of a creature thatâs long abandoned it, grown too big for its home.
Your eyes sting all over again, this time enough to brim with unfallen tears.
A thud against the nightstand.
You roll onto your side and find heâs still here, a glass of water and some painkillers lay to rest at your bedside. The first tear gives way, running down your cheek and dropping to the crisp white sheets below. Even more fall as he raises a damp cloth to your face, wiping away smudged mascara and bringing your lips back to their natural colour.
The undressing is gentle and so unlike his usual impatience.
Fingertips drag down each inch of skin released as he unzips the back of your dress, tugging it down and folding it by your heels. The weight off your chest helps you breathe as he unhooks your bra. Left only in your underwear, the sheets ruffle as he drags them up your tired limbs and tucks them under your chin.
âGet in bed, please,â you plead like you have any right to ask that of him. âJavi.â
Itâs the first time youâve said his name since that night in May. His shoulders tense and release, his fingers smooth down his moustache. He looks like heâs going to fulfil your request, slip in behind you and wrap you up in his soft but steady embrace.
He looks like he wants to.
His back cracks as he bends down and presses a kiss.
Against your forehead, lips that linger.
Then, he stands up straight and walks out the door.
On the forehead, way up north Pressed the scar and found the source
Vermont, â98.
Thatâs where it all began.
Your dad, turning fifty.
Javi just hit forty.
It was someone in the station who had the wild idea they celebrate it together. The sheriff and the stationâs rookie- really, a hardened, inching-out-of-a-fresh-retirement former DEA agent your father manipulated back into the force, some promise of a light workload and a hefty pension. With no need for money, you wonder why he ever accepted the offer.
Plans were set, money was put in a pot, and a wheel of fortune was spun. It landed on the northern state, a downpayment to rent a ski lodge placed within a matter of twenty-four hours.
Somewhere along the way, youâd been roped into joining this boys-only trip. Your dad argued you needed a break from studying. Your mother argued there needed to be a responsible adult to supervise your dad. and, well, a free holiday never hurt nobody, right?
Wrong.
The final evening, with a constant pounding of a hangover never-quite-nursed, a litter of bruises down your back from falling and a firmly closed chapter on any possible career as a ski prodigy you may have had, you trailed your way down to the only bar in the tiny ski town.
Textbooks on the table, glasses on your face.
A half-drank glass of cabernet, an empty plate.
Peaceful and quaint, until it wasnât.
The cheer of a frat-boy out in the wild warrants the same response as hearing a lionâs roar in the dark of the Saharan night.
The kind you hear them before you see them, spilling through the door in their obnoxious jerseys and their face-painted cheeks. one wore the badge of honour, a giant Soon To Be shackled Married printed poorly onto the back of his jersey.
You put your head down, breathed more subtly.
The pride stormed their way over to the bar, pounding their fists onto the surface and gnashing their teeth, spit spilling down their mouth as they brutally tore into the bartender, demanding pints of beer and rounds of shots.
The key was to avoid eye contact, keep low and out of sight.
They dispersed through the area, sniffing out free booths and the occasional local to irritate out of their seats.
One of them found the jukebox and wasted his coin on blasting Pour Some Sugar On Me. The group of older women playing bingo scowled and made their way out of the joint, calling it for the night.
You got up to follow suit, hands slowly packing up your belongings and slinging your bag over your back.
Inching towards the exit, footsteps light as a feather.
âWoo! Look at you,â just as you were close to slipping out the door, a single member of the pack spotted you, prowling his way over. He already had his chest puffed out by the time you turned around. âAinât seen an ass like that since we left the city!â
Hardly charming. Tame, compared to other things frat boys have said to you.
âWhy donâcha come join me and my buddies over there?â He nodded back at them, like they werenât the obnoxious centres of everyoneâs attention.
You were not scared of him, exactly. But youâve seen where things can go. Heard about it, countless times, from your own father.
So you spoke with caution, gripping your bag a little tighter, âthanks, but Iâve got an early flight. Have a nice night-â He told you his name, like you cared. âYeah, thanks, bye.â
And then you were stepping out into the quiet of the night.
Fresh air, cold enough to sting your lungs. You breathed it in like it was going out of fashion.
You barely got a moment to compose yourself before that grating voice was back in your ears.
âOh donât be a buzzkill!â He whined, you cringed. Took a step back, watched him move an inch. âItâs early, stay. Have a drink.â
âIâm not in the mood.â
âTo have fun?! Câmon, itâs too cold to be out here by yourself.â
âI have an early flight.â
âItâs just one drink, sweetheart. I ainât asking you to sign your life away.â
A couple bumped past you both, weaved their way between you. His eyes trailed after them, your feet twisted around, carrying you away from him slowly, carefully. Best not to make yourself look like prey, not to this predator.
âHey!â He called after you. Your steps sped up. âWhere you going, sweetheart?â
It didnât even matter that you were walking in the opposite direction of the ski lodge. You told yourself you would find your way back, once this lion was off your back.
âI ainât done talkinâ to you!â
The lion pounced, sank his claws into your back and ripped through you.
Your hand flew out to break your fall, the contents of your bag spilling out onto the sidewalk.
Pain, the kind that stings. It nipped at your knees, and your hands, and your eyes. Pushed it down, pulled yourself up.
He froze, maybe surprised at his own actions, maybe waiting on the chance to pounce once more, this time with his fangs instead of his claws.
You wouldnât give him the chance. Filled your bag, collected your senses and ran.
It was tricky on frozen ground, trying so hard to not look back.
He followed and you knew it, heard it. Roaring and growling, chasing you down streets youâd never walked.
You slipped, momentarily, slammed into a wall. A crossroads, go right or go left.
You donât remember which direction you turned.
âQuit running, you bitch!â
He was still following, how was he still following?
Caving in, you glanced over your shoulder and saw the blurry figure of him running after you.
He was getting faster. Maybe you were getting slower.
You came to a screeching halt, body smacking into something solid. Eyes shut, mind alive. You feared the worst, hoped for the best, expected to open your eyes and find yourself trapped in a dead-end, nowhere to run from this predator.
Instead, you heard your name. Called softly, at first. Gentle, coaxing you to pay attention. The second time it was more urgent, worried and aggressive. You sank deeper into the wall, felt your feet shuffle on the gravel below.
â...Gotta let me know, nena,â the wall pulled you back from it, a firm grasp on your forearms. Your eyes opened and met his. âFucking Christ, look at the state of you.â
Youâd not known much about Javier PeĂąa at the start of the trip.
Your dad had mentioned something about a family ranch. Your mom let it slip that heâd enjoyed the pumpkin pie sheâd brought to the stationâs Thanksgiving feast.
Thereâd been one time youâd caught the end of a conversation between him and your dad. Nothing concrete, just some shameful mutterings about Colombia and Los Pepes. Youâd left once you heard your dad start to comfort the man, deciding your intruding on the moment had already gone too far.
You now knew he liked his whiskey, no ice. His coffee, no milk. His bread, no butter.
He didnât like the mess of mixing things, and you had to wonder if it had always been this way. Or had he learned his lesson, the hard way? Mixed the wrong things, burnt his own blessings?
âYouâre bleeding,â he announced it, fresh news for you.
A pleasant warmth thrummed through your veins as he took hold of your hand, inspecting it under his scrutiny.
His thumb swiped over your palm.
Your mouth winced, your arm pulled back.
He held you in place.
Something visceral shifted in him, enough to coax you to glance at him.
He was looking past you, eyes a deadly killer stalking their prey. You followed their line of sight and found the lion at the end of the street. Standing still, arms at his side, eyes a little wider than you remembered them. Youâd not really been looking, in the first place.
The former agent twisted you behind him, an effortless shield. Took an urgent step toward the frat boy, and then another three.
You grasped at his sleeve and tugged him back, didnât let him stray too far.
âIâm fine,â you lied. He didnât believe you, furrowing his brow. âIâm just cold.â
He seemed to hesitate, softened by a tremble in your voice.
He glanced back to see the lion was retreating, staggering his way back to the pride of frat boys. A perfect opportunity for him to attack, from behind and unexpectedly.
âLeave it, heâs not-â The sting in your eye got the best of you and a tear tracked itself down your cheek. You wiped it away with your scraped hand, leaving behind a smear of gravel and blood. âItâs not worth it.â
You said it not for the agentâs sake, but the boyâs.
The agent puffed out a breath of frustration, then followed your plea. Turned back to you, licked his thumb and swiped off the dirt on your cheek. Pulled you in, against him once more, and pressed a deliberate kiss against your forehead.
It was instinctual, no thought placed behind his action.
He did it because that seemed to be in his nature: to nurture.
âCâmon, the lodge is this way,â he pointed in some direction.
You didnât bother paying attention, more than willing to follow wherever he led.
âPut this on.â It was not posed as an option, not when the agent tugged off his coat and draped it over your shoulders.
Somewhere along the path, you realised youâd lost your key to your cabin. Your dad carried the other.
Officer PeĂąa offered to take you to him, drinking down in the ski lodgeâs bar with the rest of the men.
You shook your head, told him your dad couldnât see you in that state.
He took you back to his own cabin instead.
Cleaned up your hands, put on the fire, poured you a drink.
Then fucked you into his bed, till you clawed and sobbed around him.
If you donât love me, Whyâd you act it?
Late june brings nothing but gloom.
You get bored quick, no college to fill your days. Pick up extra shifts, hope to combat the empty feeling in your chest with the rush hour traffic that torpedoes itâs way through the cafe.
Friends invite you out, you rarely go. They tease youâre becoming a recluse, and that just makes you want to shut yourself in even more.
Tonight, youâre appeasing them.
Some line dance event, downtown in a bar thatâs only gimmick seems to be a worn-down mechanical bull. Itâs missing a horn and no one seems to know why.
Truth be told, you donât want to go.
You want to stuff your face with take-out while you melt into your couch, watching reruns of the first season of Friends and drooling over Joey till you forget about another smooth-talking, raven haired man.
Here you are instead, fighting against the cheesy cowgirl hat till it sits on your head correctly.
In the mirror, itâs still lopsided.
The clock sits at eight forty-seven.
Theyâre 2 minutes late.
You give up, decide to pretend you want the hat this way. Slip on your jacket, do a sweep around your apartment: windows locked, flat iron off, fridge closed. Grabbing your purse, you unzip it and wrestle around in itâs contents, searching for your keys.
You pull on something and- itâs a pack a gum.
Dive back in, search again.
An empty tube of lipbalm.
Third timeâs a charm, you think, and try once more. Something scratches your fingers, coaxes you to tug it out and inspect it.
A broken earring.
A familiar car honkâs outside, you stay frozen in place, staring at the broken hoop and counting one, two, three.
Bile burns the back of your throat.
He opens on the fifth knock.
Any other night, he practically rips the door off itâs hinges and tugs you in, before you can so much as raise your fist for a second knock.
Maybe he was busy, on the toilet or on the phone. You donât think too much into it.
He steps aside, lets you in. Stands so far away, itâs hard to read his eyes.
The airâs uncomfortably quiet.
You thinkâs itâs all in your head, self-doubt at an all time high after a bad day.
âMy earring snapped today,â thereâs a growing pit in your stomach, just from staring at him. He looks so distant, not present. Mind a galaxy away. "Your favourite ones, too. You know, the little hoops with-â
âThe hearts dangling from them.â He finishes, on your behalf, and itâs the first green flag you see. Green enough to lull yourself into a faux calm.
The silence returns.
You rock backwards on your heels, glance around the apartment. Try to find what has changed, because this no longer feels like the place youâve grown so familiar with. And neither does the man observing you from a distance, hands glued to his sides.
He should be touching you by now, in any way he could: his foot bumping against yours under his dining table, his hand trailing patterns over your shoulders as you settle into his side on the couch, his tongue delving between your folds as you lay splayed out on his sheets.
You notice his bedroom door is shut.
Itâs never been shut before.
âIs- Am I-â You donât have to find the words, but the courage to speak them. âDo you have someone over?â
He blinks, slowly.
Itâs hard to tell if itâs from guilt.
âBecause if you do, thatâs fine!â Itâs not. âI understand,â You donât.
He doesnât answer.
You keep talking.
âTotally chill, Iâll comeback some other night. Or, you can just come by mine! Yeah, actually, that sounds better. Wonât risk interrupting again-â
âThis needs to stop.â
You donât have to question it.
You do, anyway.
âWhat?â
âUs. This-â Heâs pointing between you both, a little haphazardly. Itâs like heâs rushing to get the words out, get it over with. Get you out his apartment. âThing weâre doing. Itâs done.â
âI donât underst-â
He cuts you off with your name. âWhyâd you come here tonight?â
Heâs stern.
Not in the way that makes you want to bend to his will and indulge in all his sins. But in a way that makes you feel dirty, wrong. A child scorned for touching fire and getting themselves burnt.
âI,â youâre beginning to wish there was someone else in his bed, so she could stroll out of his room in one of his stupidly soft shirts and interrupt this conversation. âUh, I had a bad day.â
âOkay,â he nods. Smooths a hands over his chin, pops out his hip. âWhatâs that got anything to do with me?â
Everything, you want to tell him.
For every single thing that went wrong throughout your day, seeing Javi gave you something to look forward to.
âI just thought-â
âYou thought, what?â His face twists up, just like your insides. Heâs angry and youâre the one to blame. âThis isnât a- Iâm not your boyfriend.â
I know, you mouth.
Because you do know. Repeat it to yourself all the time.
When he calls to make sure you got home safe.
When you sneak off to pee in the middle of the night and are welcomed back to bed with a forceful tug into his chest, a sleepy, gruffed out âwhereâd you go?â whispered into your neck.
When he picks up on the things you say, remembers silly things like your favourite toilet paper brand and the exact milk to cereal ratio you enjoy.
Javier PeĂąa is not your boyfriend.
So why does he act like it?
âLook, kid, youâre young, and I know-â
Kid.
That makes you angry.
He wasnât calling you kid when he bent you over your parentsâ bathroom counter.
âDonât call me kid.â
âAnd I know,â he pushes through your protest, keeps up the distance. âThis can be a lot at your age. Donât blame you for getting caught up. But whatever you think youâre feeling for me, itâs not-â
âIs this about the p-â The word wonât come out of you, so your change the verbiage. âThe hospital? Because I told you, Javi. Weâve been safe. Safer than a pair of purity-ring wearing teenagers-â
âNo, this is about me needing to do the right-â
At this point, youâre just interrupting one another.
Fighting to get in the next word, frowning at what you do hear.
He tilts his head back and pinches the bridge of his nose, a groan leaving his cracked lips. Youâd imagined him doing that tonight, but not like this.
Eventually, the back-and-forth stops.
Silence.
You take the lead.
âSo, what? Thatâs it just... over?â
âI told you, corazĂłn mĂa (my heart),â he canât meet your eyes. âMade it clear from the start I wasnât looking for anything serious.â
âI know,â you heave in a breath, hold back a sob. âBut if it wasnât serious, whyâd you treat me like it was?â
It takes him a few minutes to answer. Thereâs a twitch, in his hand, reaching up only to drop back down at his side.
Usually, he wipes your tears before they get chance to fall.
The rug at your feet turns darker with each wet spot that drops.
âI got caught up,â his eyes seem so sad, so lost. Staring across the ocean of his living room, searching for a lighthouse to pull him safe to shore. But he wonât let you be that. âIn the way you deserve to be treated, instead of some sleazy secret.â
He breathes out your name, the most painful melody youâve ever heard.
âThis has to end,â youâre unsure if itâs only you heâs attempting to convince. âBefore someone gets hurt.â
Too late, you want to say.
Youâre already being torn apart by his hands, and heâs standing ten feet away.
âCorazĂłn, Iâm so sor-â
The car honks, again.
You breathe in, and find itâs hard, snot piling up in your nose and tears splashing down your cheers.
Another honk.
You never make it to the line dance.
You curl in on yourself, instead, and fall asleep to the sound of Joey and Chandlerâs bickering.
Loveâs a verb And not a bandage
In retrospect, itâs hard to tell where the lines begin to blur.
A promise of casual, turned into something fragile.
Whenever you think about it, for too long, your mind carries you back to the same night. A few months after Vermont, you donât recall the exact date.
All you remember is a pounding at your front door.
1 am. Too late to be causing ruckus.
You nearly trip over discarded shoes, curse earlier-you for assuming you would remember their existence. Undo the bolt, grab the key and then-
Pause.
This could be anyone, anything.
You check the peephole, find exactly who you were hoping for.
Heâs on you like a moth to a flame, pressing you flush against him the instant he can fit through the crack in your doorway. Mouth on mouth, hands on waist. The door thuds as he closes it behind you both, youâre too distracted to notice.
You let him invade your senses.
Smell his aged leather and nicotine thrill. Feel his strong arms and bulging crotch. Hear his laboured breaths and muttered pleasantries. Taste his whiskey tongue and metallic lips-
You pull back. He follows.
Itâs flattering, his inability to get enough of you, but you halt him nonetheless.
Cup his cheeks, pull down his face, and stare.
âMy dad finally figure out who those panties in your glove-box belong to, PeĂąa?â Itâs meant to be a joke.
Thereâs nothing funny about his bleeding lip and split eyebrow.
He graces no response, dives back into you and submerses himself in your touch. Kisses you slow, with deliverance, his final mission to arrest all your sense of self till you turn yourself in to his embrace.
Only as you pass by those discarded shoes do you realise heâs inching you both deeper into the dark of your apartment.
This time, you do trip over them.
Itâs okay though, Javiâs there to catch you.
He finds refuge in your neck, burrowing in deep, mouthing at the skin like a dog does a wound. Your arm shoots out to find a light-switch. A warm glow fills the apartment, bathing you both in an orange hue.
The gold of his skin shines brighter.
The red on his skin appears darker.
âWhat happened to you?â You donât need to worry about him. And, yet, doing so comes naturally.
âSânot important,â itâs spoken against your skin, as if he intends to seep his gravelled tone into your pores and have it grow a new life for itself within you. A gentle scraping of his teeth sends a shiver down your spine. âIâll tell you later.â
Later with Javi never seems to come.
âIf youâre not busy, Iâll make you dinner later.â
âKeep it up and Iâll be fucking that attitude out of you later.â
âIâll get these back to you later.â
Heâd never made you that dinner.
Heâd dragged you into the stationâs bathrooms and fucked the attitude out of you only seconds after.
Youâd never gotten those panties back.
You decide to grant him no time for later. Shove him down into a seat at your dining table-for-two. Roll your eyes as he asks if youâre âgonna put on a show for me, corazĂłn?â
The makeshift first-aid kit put together by your mother resides at the back of a cupboard, hidden by mugs and cups. It takes several minutes and a smashed glass to manoeuvre it out. You step over the pieces of glass and head straight back to the table, dumping out the contents.
You click your tongue, point your finger. He scoots the chair back from the table and you slip between the space. Press back against the surface, stand between his parted knees and do your best to not look down at the jeans that grant him no modesty.
Distractions are not welcomed, your patient needs tending to.
Heâs insisting heâs okay, yet heâs hissing when you dab at the tears in his flesh with betadine. His hands find a place upon your hips and give a tight squeeze as you press butterfly stitches to his no-longer bleeding brow.
âI,â he starts up, an indefinite time of silence passing between you both. He shakes his head.âItâs stupid.â
âJavi,â you stroke your finger over his jaw, tilt his head back to meet your eyes. âThe less you tell me, the more Iâll worry.â
It does the trick, unlocks his tongue.
âI was just wanting one drink, was gonna head home... Or to you, after. I had a shitty day at work and... You probably donât care about that,â he has no idea youâll hang onto those words for the weeks to come, wondering how to lighten his workload, ease his tension. âHeard some loud-mouth kid beside me at the bar, he was talking to this girl. She gets up to leave, he follows. I was just gonna go back to nursing my drink but-â
He hisses.
Youâre pressing too hard on his fragile lip.
Thereâs no malice in his eyes as you pull your hand back, only soft and tender. He must sense your remorse for hurting him, chasing after your fingers and grazing a gentle kiss upon them.
A splotch of red stains your skin.
âCorazĂłn,â he croons, shifts himself closer to you. His hands grip the backs of your exposed thighs, his chin presses into your lower stomach. A few movie-strand hairs cover the molten brown eyes that stare up at you. âYouâre exhausted. Vamos, basta de preocuparte (C'mon, stop worrying), Iâm fine. I just wanna crawl into your tiny bed so I can wake up to your bedhead and more back pains.â
Itâs a tempting offer, and one youâve given into far too many times acceptable for the casual agreement you both share.
A deep breath. Your hand lands on his cheek, his eyes flutter shut.
Thereâs bags under them. Heavy, dark. Bearing the exhaustion he hides behind charming winks and dashing smiles. Your thumb grazes over one and you ache to give him the rest he deserves, the rest his body craves.
âBut, what?â You persist, pleading for him to continue his story.
Javi sighs, gives in.
He always gives in, to you, eventually.
âI just- I donât know, itâs crazy, but I kept thinking of you,â his eyes reopen, sorrow buried deep in his soul and a worry-line etched into his brow. âIn that bar. Alone, in Vermont, when you...â
He doesnât finish his sentence.
He doesnât need to.
âSo what did you do?â Itâs best to keep him talking, drag his mind away from whatever dark thoughts those memories bring up.
âI followed them outside,â he admits with a tinge of shame. âTried to be subtle about it. Lit a cigarette, took a few drags, scoped out the street. Neither of them were around,â youâve long abandoned the first aid kit, transfixed by the tight grip he holds you in, his hands smoothing up and down the backs of your thighs in an attempt to soothe himself. âI thought Iâd maybe read into it wrong. Maybe she was into him, and theyâd got a cab back to her place. Or his.â
Heâs rambling.
Stumbling through words he deems unimportant, rushing to push out the thoughts that clog up his brain pipes.
You listen closely, swallow up every morsel he offers.
âIt was just as I turned to go back inside that I heard something,â his hands no longer dance over your skin. They sit stagnant, halfway up your thigh, fingers flexed and nails digging into flesh. Heâs burying himself into any part of you he can, rooting himself in your solid figure. âRustling, or something. Coming from the alley. And I just... I felt my stomach drop. Followed after it. Found them, him-â
He chokes.
On his words, on his breath, on his failure.
You run a hand through his curls, soothe the lines off his face.
Bend down, drag him up, press your lips to the arc of his nose.
âDidnât think, I just dragged him off. Punched him, a few times. Felt his nose crack under my fist.â Heâs still pushing through, his earlier unwillingness to talk now a streaming fountain you canât switch off. âI mustâve tripped on some glass, lost my balance. Gave him the space to get a few hits in, and-â
âDid you arrest him?â You cut him off.
He nods.
âDid you help her?â
Another nod.
âDid you get her someplace safe?â
This time, a reply.
âAn officer checked her in at the hospital, stayed till her friend arrived.â
âThen Javi,â you make a point of saying his name, remind him of who he is when heâs not on duty. Not parading around with a badge and a gun, and answering to Officer PeĂąa. The shift in his stare tells you it helps. âYou did enough.â
A weight slips off his shoulders and he slumps further into you, eyes squeezing shut.
âI didnât,â frustration steals the show, coursing through his voice.
âWhat more could you have done?â
âI donât know... I couldâve-â He groans, like something pains him, and purses his lips. âI shouldâve helped her sooner. Followed them, the minute they left. Shouldnât have let...â A whiff of whiskey reaches your nostrils. Javi pulls you in tighter, breathes in the mixture of sleep-sweat and lingering cologne on the shirt you wear- Pink, the top buttons undone, left behind by him. âShouldnât have let you go out alone.â
You whine out his name.
The air is miserable, dragging through your lungs and staining them.
The chair creeks at the loss of his weight, knees straightening him up to his full height. Instinctually, you lean back into the table, head tilting to meet his broken eyes.
Heâs searching for comfort, in the only way he knows how.
Slap a bandage over a bullet-hole, place a kiss upon his gaping-heart.
âNot everything about that night was so bad,â you play into his game, splay a hand upon his shirt. Trace a finger over a stained blood spot. âIf I hadnât gone out, then maybe we wouldnât be...â
The words catch in your throat.
Partially because you donât know what you are anymore. Boundaries crossed, lines blurring. Hands that hold and eyes that linger. Too close to be nothing, too reckless to be something.
But mostly because he kisses you.
Desperate, hungry. Groaning into your willing mouth.
Heâs a man on a mission, to consume your soul right out your willing body. Unravelling you where you stand, he takes pleasure in peeling his shirt off you.
Hot mouth to hot skin, the tip of his tongue meeting the peak of your breasts. Your hands pull at his hair and he grips at your waist.
The descent into madness is quick, bodies melting together in a dance thatâs unique, improvised, and yet always in sync.
He tugs at your panties and you undo his belt. He hooks your thigh over his hip and you anchor yourself to his chest. He teases you with a pinch to your clit and you torture him as you cup his heavy balls.
When Javi fucks you, he fucks with purpose.
The table thuds and scrapes along the floor with each punctuated thrust he gives, driving his cock deeper and deeper into your welcoming cunt, the coarse hairs at its base gifting you the occasional thrill of friction on your aching clit.
Heâs slurring out curses and pet-names, lavishing you with delightful proclaims of what a pretty girl you are when you 'shut up and take my cock'.
When he does manage a full sentence of logical wording, his foreheadâs pressed to your shoulder, his cum coats your thighs and the sweat between your frantic bodies holds you both together.
âThereâs not a universe where this doesnât happen, corazĂłn,â you feel him softening against your thigh, yet you still delight as he drags a finger coated in his own spend up your folds. âWant you too damn much to miss out on you.â
Curling up into your bed that feels too big these days, you grip at the pink shirt and wonder when that changed.
When did Javier PeĂąa stop wanting you?
And Iâm spiritual cleansing (but the truth) Is Iâm good at pretending (oh and you)
By July, things change.
The stud in your nose is traded out for a silver ring.
The lonely nights in your apartment turn into stumbling back home from some nameless club in the early hours.
Boredom leads to hobbies.
At first, you try pottery.
Four plates broken and a crumbled mug later, you put on your dance shoes.
Slip. Almost break your arm. Wrestle with the doom placed on your budding dance career. Throw out the dancing shoes, bring home running shoes.
You hate it, running.
You sweat, you ache, you exhaust.
But when youâre gasping for a breath and your feet pound into concrete ground, you donât think about it.
The heartache.
The headache.
The agent.
You drop a few pounds, tone up your muscles. Watch your bodyâs shape outgrow your wardrobe, investing in a new one while clinging onto the items you love too much to lose.
Like the dress that now rests just below your ass, instead of itâs usual place mid-thigh. Or the sweater that once hung loose, that now hugs new curves and creases. The jeans that were tight now sliding off your hips.
The pink shirt still lives on one of your hangers.
But youâre not thinking about it, or itâs previous owner.
Not right now.
Now, youâre balling your fists and counting your breaths. Music blasting through your headphones, sweat dancing on your forehead.
The sun is warm on your back, even as it makes way for night to begin. This is the best time to run, dusk, youâve discovered.
No kids loitering on park grounds, no threat brought on by the dark, no slow-walking pedestrians crossing your path.
You run your self-made circuit with freedom, switching off all your senses and emptying your mind.
Today, however, itâs more challenging.
The thought of him creeps through, no matter the effort you put in to fight it. Your fatherâs the one to blame.
You have to come, kiddo.
The phone-call still echos through your thoughts.
Because it wouldnât be the same without you there.
Youâd wanted a better explanation than that.
Then, you tried some lame excuse of already having plans.
You had no plans.
Bring your friends then! The more the merrier!
You nearly groaned out loud at his enthusiasm, but held back. Your fatherâs light didnât deserve to be dampened by your shadow.
Câmon, kiddo! Iâve not hosted the annual barbecue since you were still wearing your braces!
You bit your tongue. Fought against telling him that, back then, there were no pretty-eyed, heart-breaking agents for you to worry about.
The whole stationâs gonna be there, you have to come!
He said it, like that would persuade you.
Keep asking about ya, the whole lot of them.
The more he spoke, the less you wanted to go.
Just last night Javi was asking how youâre doing!
Youâd hung up.
Immediately.
Called back, 3 minutes later. Mumbled an apology and an excuse- I lost signal!- and ultimately agreed to going to the damn barbecue.
Now, you run from the phone call, from the impending doom it brings.
All this heartache and pain, itâs not good for the soul.
Of course, being dumped is a lot easier when the person isnât your dadâs closest confidant.
It gets hard to breath. Each pound against concrete shakes the cassette player glued to your hip. Thereâs a sting of tears in your eyes.
Until you come to a screeching halt.
Double over.
Place your hands on your knees.
Dry heave.
You pay no mind to the figure sitting a few feet away on a bench.
Nor to the dog thatâs chasing itâs ball back forth between itâs ownerâs throws.
You let the sadness flood your soul, deflate you like some discarded party-balloon.
Youâll have to see him.
Spend time near him.
Watch him laugh, and smile, and share beers with your father.
Itâs unfair, and you hate him for putting you through this.
For not quitting the force.
For being your dadâs friend.
For not wanting you the same you wanted him.
Want him.
You wipe your face with the back of your hand. Try to stand up straight, get lost in the knots youâd tied into your laces. Sloppy and uneven.
Youâre usually more careful.
You catch, in your peripheral, the figure on the bench move. Take it as your sign to compose yourself, get over yourself.
You pick your pace back up.
Manage only a handful-or-two steps.
Your feet fly out in front of you.
Land ass-first on the gravel below.
Beneath the sounds of Olivia Newton-John demanding you get physical, you hear a muffled sorry! yelled out. Spot as the dog rushes to grab itâs ball, halfway down the path thanks to your kick.
You groan and prepare to get back on your feet.
Youâre met with a hand in your face, palm open and waiting for you to accept the open offer. You take it, no hesitation.
Big mistake.
The hand tugs you.
You glance up.
And meet the eyes of Javier PeĂąa.
âEasy, tiger,â he coughs up a laugh, like you donât wind him as you slam into him, full-body force, nerves on fire and all systems shutting down. âYou trying to break my ribs?â
Itâs no less than you deserves, you think.
And instantly regret it, heart turning blue at the thought of him hurt at your hand.
You take a few steps back, create a safe distance where you canât smell the remnants of his last cigarette or count the eyelashes that line his eyes.
He asks you how youâve been, and tries his best to smile.
It comes off as awkward. A crooked line across his lips.
You try to remember the last time he smiled at you and meant it.
You come up empty handed.
Maybe it was back in April. A hospital hallway, one hand clasping yours, the other peeling through the leafs of some medical pamphlet.
Or, was it after, on the drive home, back to his apartment, hand still holding yours while the other spun the wheel?
Thereâs a vague memory that toils in the depth of your mind.
Sharing an elevator, your heels in his hand, his lips on your forehead.
Wedding attire, a post-party glow.
Itâs toyed with you since you woke up in that hotel room, driven half-mad by an image you canât quite form of him tucking you into bed.
Had he smiled, then?
Had he even been there?
Or was he merely a product of martinis and negronnis-
His fingers grasp your chin, no warning, and tilt your face.
His eyes donât greet your own. Instead, theyâre focused on the centre of your face, inspecting you like a piece of evidence.
âHmm,â heâs so close, you smell the mint of freshly bitten gum on his breath. Dart your eyes down, catch the glint of his badge poking out his pocket.
Heâs still on duty, a tailored uniform contrasting the hair roused by stress. Maybe at his desk, in the office next to your fatherâs, hands running through his tresses to express frustrations, tensions.
Were they his own hands, or someone with longer, brightly painted nails? Your stomach turns at the thought, your loins warm at the memory of writhing in his desk chair, legs thrown over his shoulders whilst his own dug into the ground below, eager to please mouth and a happy to taste tongue working you to a orgasm muffled by your own hand.
Heâd slapped your ass, kissed your cheek and sent you out his office door, wiping your own wetness off your cheek just in time to greet your father.
âYou suit the ring,â his voice and a gentle breeze bring you back to the present. To the park. To the heavy feeling that hangs between you both. âI prefer it to that stud.â
âI- What?â Confussion.
You furrow your brow, wipe your sweaty palms over your thighs.
He just smiles, still crookedly, and brings his hand up to your nose.
Adjusts your piercing, swipes his thumb over your cheek.
Itâs hard to breath, but you do it anyway.
Thank him, in a struggle to find your voice, with a whisper.
His eyes bore into your own, chase them as you look off to the side, watch the dog still chasing itâs ball and failing to catch it.
You wonder if itâs a cruel metaphor sent by the universe, a symbol of you and Javi.
And then you wonder if youâre the dog or the ball.
Or both.
âYou never answered me,â his voice, honey, sweet on your ears. It melts away your other senses, turns you blind to anything other than him. âI want to hear how youâve be-â
âPeĂąa, if you donât report your skinny ass to my office in 5 minutes and share a celebratory drink with me, Iâm putting you on cleaning duties at our next poker night.â
A static-filled voice blares out his walkie-talkie.
Your fatherâs voice.
Itâs enough to set things right, force your body to retreat from his.
Heâs not your Javi anymore, desperate to hear about your day and kiss any aches away.
Heâs PeĂąa, your dadâs best friend, meant for nothing more than to be a passing figure in your life.
His eyes are heavy with emotion as he fishes out the device.
Maybe itâs sadness you see.
Thereâs definitely remorse.
Guilt, too.
âWe... Your dad caught the guy thatâs been breaking into college girlsâ apartments.â He tells you, shares information that should help you sleep better at night. Youâve not done that since the last time he lay next to you. You watch him press down on the call button, hold the speaker up to his mouth. âDo that and Iâll shit in your shower, pendejo (asshole).â
It wouldnât be the first time heâd commit an indecency within your parentâs bathroom.
But none of that matter, anymore.
Youâre already walking away.
Wringing your hands and hoping the tension in your limbs falls out.
He calls out your name, loudly.
Attracts the nosy eyes of people around.
People who know fine well who your father is, who Javier is.
You turn in time to see him half-jog, half-pace his way over to you.
He reaches out for your hand.
And quickly gives up on the thought of holding it.
âIâll, um,â his adamâs apple bobs as he swallows, grinds his teeth in an attempt to say something. âIâll see you at the barbecue, right?â
He knows the answer.
You still give him it, âyes.â
Smile, uncomfortably brightly, before you turn and walk away once more.
You feel his eyes on you.
And pray he takes no notice of the sob that shakes your shoulders.
Broke me big time Itâs funny and Iâm laughing baby You think Iâm alright
Youâre laughing but itâs mostly fake.
A courtesy, a polite gesture. A signal that youâre still listening, despite tuning out her voice five minutes ago.
Sheâs a nice lady, someone who works alongside your father. Specialised in forensics, she balances the darkness of her job with the brightness of her wardrobe.
Today, sheâs paired a lemon-yellow skirt with a vibrantly orange camisole. She looks like a walking cheese cube.
Youâve known her since you were a kid, even if you canât remember. She claims you used to stand on her desk, make a big spectacle out of nearly matching your dadâs height.
Youâd got to talking to her after she helped you wipe ketchup off your chin.
That was half an hour ago, and the discomfort of wanting to be anywhere but here is finally settling in.
Itâs not her fault. You know.
Sheâs not the one who roped you into going to this barbecue.
Your dad is.
And right now heâs stood on the other side of his backyard, half-drunken beer bottle in one hand and Javier PeĂąaâs shoulder clapped under the other.
Even from here, you can hear him bragging.
So then PeĂąaâs on his ass.
Chases this guy, whilst heâs driving down the street!
Catches him at an intersection, physically rips him out the car.
All while the man in question shrugs, sheepish. Dismisses your fatherâs praising.
Heâs exaggerating.
The guy was barely going 5 miles an hour!
He stepped out the vehicle at his own will.
Sweat lines his forehead, shirt-sleeves hug his biceps, joy wrinkles his eyes.
Heâs happy, at ease. Enjoying himself, in a way he was always meant to.
Something about him fits so perfectly in this picture: laughing with your father, complimenting your mother, playing fetch with your dog.
If you step inside the frame, it cracks.
Shatters.
And maybe he knows that.
Knew it all along.
Broke things off before you could try find a frame large enough to fit you all in.
And, though it hurts, you see why things had to end between you and feel relieved it happened before it was too late.
The feeling lasts all but four seconds.
âKiddo!â
Your fatherâs voice is obnoxiously loud. Several of the party-goers turn their heads, follow his line of sight. Spot you, frozen in place, glass full of watered down lemonade and a belly full of dread.
It takes a moment, but you wave.
âCome over âere!â
Not the response you were hoping for.
Still, you do as he asks. Smile at your mother, shuffle your feet, make your way across the yard. Do everything in your power to not look at Javi.
Even if the weight of his stare threatens to crumble you.
âYou having a good time?â Your dadâs got this smile, big and dopy and oh so caring, that you canât bring yourself to ruin with the truth.
âIâm having a great time,â you barely manage out before heâs squeezing you into his side.
The condensation on his bottle of beer seeps through the shoulder of your top, his arm secured safely around you.
He must be tipsy already, a buzz in his veins making him more affectionate than normal.
âI canât believe it,â he laments, speaking to no one in particular.
In your peripheral, you fail to ignore tight jeans and a loose-fitting shirt.
Itâs hardly buttoned, the top three undone and leaving a golden plain on display.
Perhaps youâre going crazy but he seems thinner, skin drawn a little tighter against his ribcage.
Itâs not a sight you want to see.
It fills you with dread.
Pulling you out of your own head, you father continues to drone on.
âMy little girlâs spreading her wings soon, going on her first adult holiday to-â
âLondon.â
Javiâs voice, interrupting your father, finishing his sentence.
All eyes snap to him.
Your own, wide and panicked. Scared. Trying so hard to dismiss how intensely heâs staring back you.
Your motherâs, amused and curious. Flicking back and forth between his face and her husbandâs.
Your father, confused and perplexed, âI- Yeah...â He speaks slow and the arm on your shoulder slips down. âHowâd you know?â
âIâve been, you know?â Two hands dance in front of you, somewhere in the dark, intwining and unwinding. Itâs a nervous habit, of Javiâs. You welcome the contact of soothing touches. âTo London.â
That peaks your interest.
Enough to shift positions. Rip your hand out his own, roll onto your side and rest a hand under your propped up head. Your other, inevitably, finds its way upon his warm chest, rests over his no-longer-racing heartbeat.
âReally?â
âYeah. Iâve been a few times, actually. Iâve got some friends out there.â
With Javi, friends could mean anything.
A fellow agent, a government official, a moonlight lover.
For all you know, this friend could be the Queen of England.
So itâs best you donât inquire on it.
âWhere do you recommend I visit then, Mr. Bond?â
âMr... Bond?â
The room is dark, but you still notice the furrow in his brow.
You can practically hear it, in his voice.
âYou know, like James Bond.â Thatâs the thing about jokes, explaining them makes you realise how dumb they are. ââCause you were an agent and you like London, and heâs an agent in Lon-â
He cuts you off in the way you like best: his mouth against yours.
The kiss is brief, and leads no place further than the simple act of wanting to silence you.
And, though it goes unaddressed, because itâs been too long since heâd last done it.
Even if heâd done so less than an hour ago, naked bodies intertwined on ruffled bedsheets.
âThat was the worst pun Iâve ever heard, corazĂłn,â somehow, the words donât bruise your ego.
Instead, they make you giggle and burrow your heated face into the crook of his neck.
His lips press against your hairline before speaking again.
âIâd need to write you a list of places to go, too many for me to pick one.â
âMaybe I need a tour guide,â a hand of his greets your back, strokes soothing motions back and forth. Itâs lulling you to sleep, at last. âYâknow, show me all the places a real Londoner goes.â
âI could,â he pauses. Clears his throat. Pulls you a little tighter against him, till your limbs are tangled and itâs hard to tell where he stops and you start. âI could check my calendar. See how many holiday days Iâve got left. Could come with you, to London, if you want me there.â
Itâs too late though.
Youâre already snoring against his skin.
âHow does he know?â Your mother shatters the silence, tone incredulous. âI mean, seriously, are you blind!?â
For a minute, it feels like she knows.
She knows why Javi knows.
You should be panicking.
Both of you should.
Should look away from one another, should wipe the guilt off your faces, should already be working on some excuse for when your mother exposes what once was between you.
But you arenât. Neither of you are.
Youâre just staring at each other, as if youâre working to commit each otherâs face to memory.
âHe knows because you wonât shut up about it!â
Your dad gives an unceremonious oh.
Your mom rolls her eyes.
Javi takes a sip of beer and looks off to the side, eyes breaking contact from your own at last.
âOk but,â your fatherâs back to talking before you can fully work up the courage to leave. At least thatâs the excuse you try give yourself, anything to distract from Javi. âI bet Iâve not told you what sheâs decided to do on her travels!â
âYou have,â your motherâs tone is pointed.
Javi laughs, sputters up a little beer back into the bottle. Tilts his head back, accepts his own backwash.
Thereâs a worn-out cigarette box squeezed tight inside the front pocket of his jeans.
You try ignore the fact heâd promised you he was working on quitting.
âShh,â your father waves a hand in your motherâs face, dismisses her teasing with a playful wink.
Pulls her close, kisses her shoulder.
Gives both you and Javi a display of what a relationship is.
Open, celebrated, acknowledged.
Not secretive, dirty, scandalous.
Javi cuts the tension with a chuckle and a gentle shove to your fatherâs arm.
As his hand retreats back to his side, his knuckles brush your skin.
âSheâs gonna get herself a christmas-tree decoration every holiday,â your father reveals. Youâre frozen at the fact he even remembers you mentioning it. âWhat was it you said again, kiddo? So in the future, when youâre decorating the tree with your kids, youâll think of the places youâve been and tell them all about it?â
Your heart drops.
Javiâs seems to do the same.
For a moment, you worry heâs stopped breathing.
Till his chest rises and falls, no thanks to your fatherâs stupid rambling about you, and the future, and kids.
âUh, yeah,â the ground canât swallow you sooner. Youâre already planning your exit, from this conversation and, hopefully, this party as a whole. Your dadâll understand. You just need to tell him something came up. Or came out. Tell him youâve got food poison. Blame it on some dodgy take-out the night before. âSomething like that.â
But Iâm actually bloody Motherfucking batshit crazy
There are moments in oneâs life where they must question their own sanity.
Youâve lived plenty of such moments.
But none quite like right now, half-crouched in the middle of a grocery store aisle, peeping into the next one through a gap between two cereal boxes on the shelf.
And all because you heard his voice.
âThis is what youâre craving?â Through the crack, you see him wave about something in his hand. Itâs hard to see what exactly heâs holding, though.
Heâs facing a woman.
Sheâs pretty.
With dirty blonde hair, piercing blue eyes that not even the shelves and produce between you both can block the shine of.
And a well-rounded belly.
âNo, Javi, this,â she doesnât say his name the same way you do- did. Thereâs a jovial tone, but thereâs no awe, no seduction. Maybe thatâs just what your bias hears. âIs what the baby is craving.â
Youâve never seen her before.
Not on the mantel of photos that line Javierâs television. Not at any of the station thrown parties. Not in his wallet, tucked behind the picture of his mom.
Sheâs a total stranger, to you.
But that doesnât mean sheâs a stranger to him.
A very pregnant, non-stranger.
âWe gotta get this kid some better taste.â
His hand rests on her bump.
She welcomes it, placing her own against it to hold him in place.
The image of the American dream, a beautiful woman and a handsome man. The promise of a child, soon, half her and half him.
The blood drains from your face. Thereâs a lump in your throat and a sting in your eyes.
You wonât let it fester.
Take deep breaths, pretend thereâs no shake in your exhales.
Itâs not enough to stop the vicious thoughts that sink their jagged ends into the soft tissues of your brain.
Was she the reason things between you and him ended?
Had he got her pregnant, decided to stand by her, and found love along the way?
Was he with her, all along, while he was with...
Surely, he couldnât have.
But, then, why couldnât he have?
You were never exclusive.
You were never anything.
âDid-â Somewhere, between the aisles, Javi speaks in amazement. The smile is practically dripping off his words. âDid it just kick?â
Your heartâs palpitating.
Your hands are sweating so badly, they threaten to drop the box of Cap'n Crunch in their grasp.
Jealousy turns to misplaced anger, irrational in every form but impossible to conform.
Because, how could he do this to you?
Make a mockery of you, turn you into the other woman?
Love you so deeply and leave you so easily?
Settle down with this woman and her baby, yet run from you at the first scare of a-
âHeâs a real kicker, ainât he?â
At first, you think itâs spoken to you.
But, no, itâs too distant. Too far.
A third person enters your view through the window in the shelf.
Heâs handsome, in the typical sense.
Blonde haired, a nice smile.
Thereâs a little girl in his arms, resting on his hip, half asleep and clinging to a worn-out giraffe doll.
âHe?â Itâs Javi who echoes.
âDonât get him started,â the woman seems to beg, rolling her eyes.
The man nods, pride on his face, âIâm telling ya, PeĂąa, itâs gonna be a boy. It needs to be a boy, âelse Iâm gonna be overrun by little girls.â
The woman must give him a pointed look, or a gentle nudge, for not two seconds later heâs following his words up with a tickle to the sleepy girlâs side and âlittle girls who I love very much.â Pause. He leans closer to Javier, hand covering one side of his mouth as if to block the woman and the child from hearing him. âI still want a son, though.â
âOlivia,â the pregnant woman strokes a hand over the little girl's head, coxing her to keep her eyes open. Itâs hard to tell if thereâs a drool mark on the manâs shoulder. âWhy donât you show uncle Javi your favourite toy?â
The bile in your throat burns more than ever before.
The misplaced anger bleeds into sadness, shame, embarrassment.
Here you are, going stir-crazy over a man who never wanted much of you in the first place, raising your heart-rate at the thought of him moving on from something that never even existed.
And there he is, fine as can be- in every sense of the word-, sharing laughs and exchanging smiles with old friends in the grocery store.
Friends his own age.
Worlds apart, yet nothing but a shelf between you.
Through the gap, you watch him lean down to the little girlâs eye-level. A twinkle in his eye, he happily tugs at the stuffed giraffeâs tail.
âGlad you liked it, Olive,â curse him, and his soft voice, and his gentle touch and his everything, for still forcing you to swoon over him, knees weak and ovaries treacherously screaming. âI had to go all the way to Africa to find him.â
The little girl perks right up at that.
Eyes widened, head off her fatherâs shoulder.
âReally?!â Sheâs amazed, and how could she not be? Javier PeĂąa is beaming at her, ear to ear.
âMhmm,â he nods, feeds into his own lie, ignoring the disapproving looks from the other man. âIf youâre lucky, maybe Iâll go back next year and get you a zebra.â
âQuit lying to my kid, PeĂąa.â
Javi, undeterred from keeping the little girlâs smile, rolls his eyes and pokes his tongue out at her father, huffing under his breath âYour dadâs a right grump, Olive.â
You begin to wonder how long Javiâs known this couple, how he knows this couple.
âJust wait till youâve got your own kid and Iâm feeding it lies.â The man punctuates his empty threat with a dull punch to Javiâs forearm. Javi barely flinches, unfazed. âSpeaking of, when are you making me uncle Steve?â
In sync and apart, you and him both physically freeze.
Your breathing stops.
Javier stands up straight. Rolls his shoulders, scratches at the back of his neck, clears his throat and, ânot any time soon.â
âReally? What about that girl youâve been seeing, the-â
âThat- We- It didnât work out, we wanted,â you begin to see cracks in his facade. Fake laugh, solemn eyes. âDifferent things... I want, wanted to settle down but, yeah, no it was for her best that we-â
âSorry, can I just,â your heart jumps in your chest, flying back so quickly from your peep-hole that you nearly knock over the person behind you. âGrab one of those?â
You nod, gain composure, watch the stranger pick up a box of cereal off the shelf.
They walk away and youâre left alone, again.
Your eyes flicker up to the shelf and-
Heâs no longer standing on the other side.
You turn on your heel, ignoring your half-filled cart and book it out of the store before you fall apart.
Try as you might, you canât shake off the weight of his stare as you pass by the check-out.
I kept it in, but it wrecked my organs So pour the gin and call Graham Norton
You wake up early.
You tell yourself itâs because youâre seizing the day.
Making the most out of your time upon foreign land.
The early bird gets the worm, and all that proverbial bullshit.
The truth lies in that you can not sleep.
Jetlag. Your body clock is at odds with the timezone.
Which lands you here: strolling upon the cobbled streets of Notting Hill.
A quarter past six.
Its barely light out, the sun still fighting to rise over the horizon and the streetlights still shadow your every step.
Colourful houses, cosy shops, a melodic thud each time your feet meet the ground.
Itâs picturesque, straight out of a romantic comedy.
Yet, somehow, youâve never felt more gloom.
In the silent bustle of a city awakening to a new day, youâre startled.
Trip over a cobble, nearly meet the floor, and just about save yourself from rolling your ankle.
Your ringtone is the culprit.
Loud, imposing. It scares a flock of birds off a wire and gains you a stare from a man stepping out his home.
Scrambling to get the clunky cellphone out your bag, you spare the screen a fleeting glance.
You question if itâs one of your friends, awakened back in your shared hotel room to find youâre not there, and press the green button.
âCorazĂłn.â
Itâs funny how one word can drain the blood from your face.
You swallow the lump in your throat, made of equal parts anger and sadness.
Anger that this is the first time youâve heard Javier PeĂąaâs voice in nearly two months.
Sadness that it sounds so broken down the line.
âI- Shit, I canât tell if Iâve even dialled the right number...â Heâs muttering in your ear, confused and at odds with himself, mouth a fountain his thoughts pour out of. â... Probably changed it or- Can she even receive calls all the way in-â
âIâm here,â itâs only a whisper.
Itâs enough to shut him up.
Silence rings down the line, a static buzz that reminds you of the distance between you.
âYouâre in London,â he states.
âI am,â you affirm.
He hums, sips something.
Ice clinks against glass, and you feel a little sick.
âHow have-â His voice sounds strange. Muffled. Different. Maybe itâs the poor connection. âWas your flight okay?â
âYeah,â you spare him the details.
The truth.
The boredom, the turbulence. The fact youâre dreading the flight home.
âIâm glad,â he sighs the words out, worry going with them. âKnow youâre not the biggest fan of planes, kept thinking of you alone and afraid on it.â
âI wasnât alone,â itâs defensive, and ironic.
You sure felt alone.
âThatâs right, corazĂłn, you werenât,â something slips, rolls, smashes. Glass shatters and is met with cursing anger, an oh, shit! followed up by hollow laughter. âYouâre never alone.â
âAre you...â The streetâs a little brighter, a few cars have begun to back out of driveways and youâre still there, frozen in the middle of the street, phone pressed to your ear. âDrunk?â
âNo, Iâm javi.â If his laughter is anything to go by, he thinks himself the comic of the century. âHad a few drinks with your dad, sweetheart, thatâs all.â
For a moment, it feels like you shouldnât be here, in London.
You should be home, in Laredo, dragging a drunken Javi to bed.
Stripping him of his clothes, kissing his rosied cheeks, urging him to go to sleep. Leaving him a pair of painkillers and a glass of water for his breakfast before curling yourself into his soft arms.
You blink, and feel the familiar weight of a tear on your lashes.
âWhyâd you call me, Javi?â Itâs a desperate plea.
For answers, for clarity, for closure
âI wanted to hear your voice,â thatâs too vague of an answer, too unfair of an answer. Your heart swells nonetheless. âWanted to go to London, with you. I should be there.â
âItâs your fault,â thatâs as cruel as you can bring yourself to be towards him.
Even then, it kills you to do so.
ââS half my fault. Joder (fuck),â you can picture him, leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. You wonder how much heâs drank, and if he spoke to any women. Maybe he took one home, fucked her nice and good before dialling your number. âWanted to give you my answer, too.â
Someone bumps your shoulder on the street, walking past you.
You pay them no mind, vision blurred to the world around you.
âWhat answer?â
âWhere you should visit, Mrs. Bond,â he says it, like it doesnât send you into cardiac arrest.
You miss the nights like that one, tangled in your bed, smelling him on your sheets and feeling him against your skin.
Heâd woken up first the next day, coaxed you out of bed with the promise of homemade pancakes and his head between your legs.
âThereâs this little bar in Inslington, called the Distillery Club. The owner, he makes his own gin. You like gin, donât you, corazĂłn?â You nod, and itâs almost like he feels it. âIt doesnât look like much from the outside. Or the inside, either. But itâs some of the best gin Iâve ever had, in the greatest company.â
You try to picture him, sat amongst friends youâve never met. Friends who donât know your dad.
You try to picture yourself, next to him, scooting your bar stool closer to his.
The image doesnât quite form.
âWant you to go there, get yourself a drink. Tell him Javier PeĂąa sent you, and that youâve not to pay.â
Itâs like heâs given you a piece of his soul. A piece of his history, someplace heâs sought out refuge in his lowest moments.
Refuge heâs willing to share with you.
That tear finally gives way, dropping off your lash and rolling down your cheek.
You wipe it off with the sleeve of your sweater, before anyone can see.
âPromise me youâll go, corazĂłn.â
Your reply is instant, âI promise.â
âOk, Iâll let you go,â itâs solemn, regretful, devoid of truth. You almost beg him not to, but that didnât work last time. âEnjoy yourself, okay? Come home, safe.â
âJavi, I-â the line cuts off, disconnecting before you even finish. âMiss you.â
Iâm gonna throw you down the river Your mum can watch it over dinner
âHow you feeling, kiddo?â
You startle awake at your fatherâs voice, eyes heavy with exhaustion.
Before you can give him an answer, you erupt into a fit of coughs.
âNot good,â he grimaces and slowly steps into your room. âGot it.â
Stepping off the plane, youâd managed only one night back in your own bed before the fever had taken over.
All it took was hearing your nasally voice over the phone for your mother to demand you come stay with them.
Just till youâre back on your feet, sheâd said, like she ever needed an excuse to have you over.
Sheâs not quite adjusted to being an empty-nester.
Neither of them have, really.
âActually,â your tone is matter-of-factly. âI almost smelt something earlier.â
âThatâs great, kid!â And he means it, you know he does. Even if his shoulders slump at any sign of you feeling better and returning to your apartment. âNow we just gotta figure out if itâs your sinuses unclogging or your stench just growing more rancid.â
Try as you might to aim the pillow right at his head, he still manages to catch it inches from his face.
âHey, Iâm just saying! Youâve got the flu, you ainât dying! Could be a little courteous to those whoâve gotta be around you and take a shower.â
âYouâre literally in my room!â
âWhich is literally in my house!â
Downstairs, your mother yells something unintelligible.
Likely, sheâs telling you both to shut up and to quit behaving like children.
Making eye contact, you both canât help the roll of laughter that comes out.
He steps a little closer, and thatâs when you spot it.
Tupperware, clasped in his hand.
The contents are hard to decipher.
Luckily, your father spots you eyeing it.
âYour mom said ya wouldnât be up for eating much but, if youâre hungry,â he pauses, at the foot of your bed. Tugs a little on the homemade-blanket youâve had since you were in grade school. You wonder if he remembers making it with you. âOne of the guys down at the station made you some stew.â
Your stomach growls, hungry and unfed.
The prospect of a hot, boiling bowl of brothy stew suddenly peaks your interest.
In fact, you canât think of anything better.
âItâs a family recipe, he said it would cure ya right up.â
Heâs popping the lid open, presenting the delicacy before your eyes.Â
Immediately, you spot chicken.
Some corn cob, a couple lumps of potato, flakes of chilli.
You wish you could smell it, ingest it through your nasal canal and get a taste of it before you even put it in your mouth.
Your father continues, practically talking to himself.
âWhatâd he say it was called again, ga-sue-lay day ah-vay?â
âCazuela de ave.â
A change into warmer, drier clothes.
Your hair still sits wet upon your head, but it no longer drips puddles onto his floor.
Thirty minutes it took him to drive from where heâd spotted you, walking soaked upon the sidewalk.
It wouldâve only taken him seventeen minutes if heâd dropped you at your apartment.
And that fact is partly what warms your insides.
You watch him, tie discarded and the top buttons of his shirt undone, strutting around his kitchen.
Objectively, you think, heâs gorgeous.
Yet the word somehow doesnât seem like itâs enough to summarise him, when heâs making his way round to you, two ceramic bowls in his hands and a look of pride in his eyes.
He put his own bowl down first. Sloppy, uncaring, spilling a little of itâs contents over itâs edge.
And then yours. More careful, slowly, both hands guiding it down.
The scent alone is enough to have you salivating.Â
Warmth and care, all encased in a bowl of brothy goodness.
âIt smells delicious,â you inhale deeply, for dramatic effect.
And to get more of that meaty, comfort-food goodness.
Javi sits on the opposite side of the dining table, and you try hard to stop your mind from wandering off to visions of you both sat like this, out in public, in a restaurant.
A real date.
Only, this isnât even a fake date.
You guys donât do that.
âItâs- It was my momâs recipe.â
Frozen in place, you wonder if the shock spills over your face.
Heâs never mentioned his mother.
Or much about his family, really.
Thereâs the occasional comment about projects he takes on at his dadâs ranch, and tid-bits of information you hear across a dinner table that's set by your mother and seated by your father.
But youâre no fool blind enough to not realise the obvious.
A worn-out polaroid in his wallet, his mother smiles brightly in permanent ink each time he opens it. It contrasts her impermanence in the real world, dead and gone long before you became so much as a ripple in the lake of Javierâs existence.
Across the table, heâs relaxed. At ease.
Open.
His eyes, his mind, his heart.
And so you try venturing inwards, test his waters with a dip of your toe.
âWas she a good cook?â
Lukewarm, they appear, when he favours you with a tiny smile, his eyes staring somewhere off in the distance.
âNo,â and he laughs at his own admission.
Not just a scoffed out chuckle, or a gesture meant to feign joy.
A full, hearty laugh, that shakes his shoulders and splits his cheeks.
Itâs disturbingly beautiful.
You wonder if thereâs a life where it could be like this, always.
Javier laughing at his own jokes, you smiling at his visceral joy, plates of homemade food filling the space between you.
âNo, she, uh,â he restarts, relaxing a little bit. He wipes under one of his eyes with the back of his palm, a rogue tear breaching his waterline. âShe was awful. She burnt every slice of toast she made, and even served an unbaked cake at one of my birthday parties. This dish is actually one of the few she knew how to nail.â
You can picture it, a young Javi, party hat on his head and a cheesy grin topped by rosy cheeks, eating away at gooey batter mix sprinkled in icing.Â
Itâs hard to imagine him complaining, or getting angry at her.
In spite of his reputation, and the career heâs undertaken, Javier PeĂąa is a gentle soul, who nurtures and protects anyone he can.
A modern-day hero, a knight whoâs exchanged his shinny armour for form fitting jeans and unbuttened shirts.
âTell me more about her,â the words are out before you can reel them back in.
Because you like this feeling, and you like this Javi, reminiscing on his late-mother.
âShe not only was awful at cooking, but she had the worst coordination too.â Itâs like heâs been waiting to tell you this, with how easy he slips into doing so. âShe was forever falling and tripping over herself. And her driving, god! Pops used to dig out his rosary each time sheâd be out on the field, driving the tractor.â
Thereâs something intimate about him recalling details so many would see as flaws, whilst he sports the most earnest, heart-wrenching smile.
Like nothing about her was wrong, all of her perfect and angelic.
âShe was brave, too. Iâd like to think Iâm just like her in that respect. She didnât let anything stop her from doing things she set her heart on, and she never let her inabilities hinder her,â heâs getting a little emotional now, you can hear it in his voice, see it in the lump he swallows back. You stretch a hand across the table and watch as he leans on you for support, fingers interlocking with your own. âThere was this one time when I was a kid, I was swimming in a river and got stuck in a current. She dived right in to save me... She didnât even know how to swim!â
You donât know what to say.
You opt for saying nothing, silence speaking more than a thousand words.
Give his hand a reassuring squeeze, feel him squeeze back harder.
Your stomach rumbles, but it doesnât ruin the moment in the way you feared it would.
âListen to me being a sap and starving my poor lady to death,â still, he tugs your hand closer and plants a kiss on your knuckles. Youâre still trying to process the possessive adjective heâd used to address you. My. His. âEat up.â
Both of you settle back in your seats.
You pick up your spoon, scoop up a piece of chicken out the steaming bowl and-
âAsi no, corazĂłn (not like that, sweetheart),â he spews out, panicking to pry the cutlery out your hand. He ignores the questioning looks you give him. âYou drink the soup first, eat the filling after. Like this.â
Leaning over the table, he scoops your bowl up in his careful hands and guides it up to your lips.
When your lips part and rest against the bowlâs edge, he tilts it and you feel itâs warmth invade your mouth.
And then your chest, branching out over your heart, your lungs, your stomach.
Horned-up bias you so often show towards Javier aside, itâs one of the best things youâve ever tasted.
Like a hug on a gloomy, wet day, all wrapped up inside a ceramic bowl.
You hum, hands taking over his own to allow him back into his own seat, focusing his attention on drinking his own soup.
âJavi, this is...â You trail off, eyeing the small ring of liquid pooling at the bottom of the bowl. One more mouthful and youâll get your taste of the stewâs fillings. âAmazing. Your mum would be proud.â
Instead of modesty, instead of 'thank yous', instead of bashfulness, Javier smiles, takes another sip from his bowl.
âShe would have liked you.â
You stare across at him and find no jest in his eyes.
Theyâre as open as before.
âReally?â
âMhmm. She always liked pretty girls smart enough to put me in my place.â
âKiddo?â
Youâre ripped out your own head by your fatherâs voice and his hand, waved repeatedly in front of your face.
âHmm?âÂ
âYou okay there? I was talkinâ to you but you seemed lost in thought.â Thereâs a little excitement in you fatherâs voice as he presses his cold hand to your sweated forehead, the prospect of you still being ill, still needing taking care of, filling him with the relief of keeping you in your parents' home a little longer.
âIâm- Yeah, just tired, sâall.â
âOk, let me know when youâve finished your food,â he presses a kiss atop the crown of your head, and you hold back the pointless comment of not risking getting himself or your mother sick. âNeed to get the tupperware clean âfore I give it back to Javi.â
Your stomach twists and longs for the meal before you, while your heart shatters into pieces you doubt will ever be repaired.
#javier peĂąa smut#pedro pascal smut#javier peĂąa x reader#javier peĂąa fanfiction#javier peĂąa oneshot
360 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Descendants 4 headcanon/theory || the Hook family
âĽŕšâââââââââââââââââŕšâĽ
Iâve been doing a lot of thinking ever since I first watched Rise of Red, and I mean a lot. In recent days, that old middle school mystery I used to ponder about who the Hook childrensâ mother is has come back to haunt me once again. So, after a lot of reliving my past Descendants obsession (and a fair amount of fanfic reading), I came up with this theoryâ itâs really just headcanonsâ about Harriet, Harry, CJ, and Redâs parentage. Let me know what you think! This is the first time Iâve actually posted something on Tumblr so weâll see how this goes lol.
âĽŕšâââââââââââââââââŕšâĽ
Captain James Hook and Bridget, the Queen of Hearts
Harriet Hookâs mother is the Queen of Hearts. Harriet and her fraternal twin sister, Red (bear with me), were born shortly after the creation of the Isle of the Lost. During this time, James lived in Wonderland with Bridget and helped command her army while she ruled the kingdom, thus avoiding imprisonment on the Isle. James, who had a passion for traveling, often left to visit with his crew and other villainous friends there by permission of Auradon, which sparked jealousy in Bridget, unbeknownst to him.
When Auradon Kingdom informed the Kingdom of Wonderland that the doorway between their worlds would soon be sealed for good, a massive argument ensued between Bridget and James. James wanted to leave Wonderland and live on the Isle with his crew mates and friends, and he wanted Bridget and the twins to come with him. Bridget was adamant on keeping her throne, however, and she forbid James from setting foot outside of Wonderland. After some time, it became clear that their relationship was over, and Bridget could no longer stand keeping James imprisoned in her territory.
They made a heartfelt agreement that they would part ways, and James left to go live on the Isle, taking Harriet with him. This separation caused the Queen of Hearts to turn extremely bitter, and she never told Red about her sister or father. Because time passes at a slower rate in Wonderland than it does everywhere else, Red aged much more slowly than her sister, so much so that by the time she began to attend Auradon Prep, she was younger than CJ, the youngest of Jamesâs children. Harriet began to age at a normal rate the second she and her father left for the Isle, and that day is often considered to be her birthday despite her having been alive for nearly two years in Auradon-time (she was physically only a few months old though). As a result, she is essentially two years older than her brother, Harry. Try not to think about it too hard.
âĽŕšâââââââââââââââââŕšâĽ
Captain James Hook and Sarah Sanderson
Harry and CJ Hookâs mother is Sarah Sanderson. James and Sarah never really had an official relationship, seeing as both quite enjoyed keeping up with their own long lists of love affairs during their time on the Isle. One would say that their blatant disloyalty to each other is what enabled them to get along as well as they did.
It was thought that Sarah maintained a relationship with James not only because he was attractive and a total flirtâ not so different from herâ but because he reminded her of Billy Butcherson when he was alive, or rather, a version of him from her dreams that boasted a much more unruly personality. Similarly, James found himself drawn to Sarah not just because of her beauty and flirtatiousness, but because she reminded him of Bridget, or rather, a version of her from his dreams where she was still sweet and playful and wasnât totally blinded by her power.
It should also be mentioned that their relationship lasted a while because without access to magic, Sarah (and her sisters) couldnât cause James any real harm as that is what usually happened with her unfortunate lovers.
Of the two, James was the better parent. He (mostly meaning his first mate Smee) took sole care of the children since their birth. He was coldest towards Harry yet somehow earned the most admiration from him despite not really warming up to his son until he grew past Peter Panâs age. Sarah did show a bit of an uncharacteristic affection towards her children when she was with them, but ultimately her loyalty towards her sisters prevailed and she remained rather distant, only visiting with them before full moon rituals (when she didnât forget, that is). It sounds cold, but she was one of the more caring parents on the Isle, and James was one of the best, personally teaching each of them important skills about survival, fencing, sailing, and literature (Harry never caught on to the reading thing, though, and James didnât have the patience to make him sit still long enough to teach him).
Winnifred and Mary only knew of Harryâs existence. This is because Sarah is an awful liar and did not do a good job of hiding her pregnancy. Winnie was furious when she discovered this, but because there was no magic on the Isle, she couldnât do much about it. When the baby turned out to be a boy, she began crafting a plan to get rid of him, but Sarah told this to James in secret and he had his crew steal back the child.
Sarahâs visits with James frequently became more prolonged after that, to the point where her spending months away at a time with himâexpecting their daughterâ hardly phased her two sisters (they thought unseriously of her and assumed she was off galavanting around with more lovers or searching for potion ingredients). They never found out about CJ and were pleased to see Sarah return not long after the baby was born.
Harry inherited his parentsâ flirtatious (and slightly unhinged) nature. He has his fatherâs dark hair and his motherâs eyes. CJ has her motherâs blonde hair and her fatherâs eyes. Harry grew up not caring too much about maintaining a relationship with his mother because he felt offended that she always acted colder towards his sister, Harriet. He didnât think it was fair that she be neglected of attention because she had a different motherâ in his eyes, Sarah was Harrietâs mother as well. CJ, however, took a great interest in witchcraft as she got older and began to seek out Sarahâs company more and more with time.
âĽŕšâââââââââââââââââŕšâĽ
So, that was pretty much all of it. Hope you enjoyed reading! Ignore the badly edited photo I made, I just needed something relevantđ
#descendants#descendants rise of red#descendants headcanons#descendants 4#rise of red#James Hook#Captain James Hook#Captain Hook#bridget hearts#queen of hearts#ruby rose turner#joshua colley#wonderneverland#hook descendants#Bridget descendants#harry hook#harriet hook#cj hook#sarah sanderson#hocus pocus#is this too many tags?#Iâm geeking hard rn#hook descendants 4#queen of hearts descendants#james x bridget#captain hook x queen of hearts#captain hook x sarah sanderson
64 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Sunny Day Jack - Dragon Jack Fantasy AU Headcanons
So, I know that Jackâs fursona is a snake, because he wants warm cuddles his sunshine wonât run away from, which is where we get naga Jack, but what if he was a different sort of mythical creature?
No, not an incubus, but you can check out my incubus headcanons here and here. Iâm talking about a different fantastical creature that still has a few scaly features.
Itâs the year of the dragon, and that got me thinking about a certain piece of absolutely gorgeous artwork my friend Mars made back in August, which in turn made me think, dragon Jack AU?
Dragon Jack AU.
Oh hell yeah, letâs get fantastical.
Credit for this beautiful artwork and fueling my inspiration goes to the marvelous Mars, who you can find over here on tumblr and on twitter. Please consider popping on by to leave a kind word or two. Trust me, you wonât regret looking at all of her jaw-droppingly stunning art!
Content warnings: There is going to be spice in these headcanons, and itâs going to get a bit kinky at times. I mean, weâre talking about Jack as a dragon getting frisky with his sunshine. Bad Dragon didnât get its name for nothing after all. Oh and thereâs also some dark themes like going insane from isolation, families being awful to one another, exploitation of workers, bullshit politics in a medieval inspired fantasy setting, deadly monsters attacking people, yandere obsession, that sort of thing.
Overall itâs going to be pretty lighthearted, especially in comparison to the super dark and angst-filled hurt/comfort story that I recently posted, so this post shouldnât get more intense than the game itself.
The Cursed Prince
Let us begin this AU with the tale of Sunny Day Jack, a poor soul who was damned to be left alone and forgotten by all who knew him. In this case, that place he was left to be forgotten was a castle in the middle of a dark and twisted land, bound by a curse that not even the strength of a dragon can break.
Jack wasnât always this way. Long ago, he was someone grand, a prince by the name of Joseph, though not in line for any sort of throne. He was the spare of the spare, the unwanted and unneeded family member who was a risk to the true heir to the crown. He had to learn how to be strong and cunning to survive the castle politics, while at the same time he was overlooked and ignored by all.
Initially, Joseph tried all he could to earn favor with his family, to be loved by them, but no one cared. Because his family didnât care about him, and he had no âpurposeâ in existing except as an obstacle to the heir to the throne, others often ignored him as well to not risk showing favor and appearing to side with him against the current forerunners to the crown. Acting out and creating mischief that the royal family couldnât ignore was the only way for Joseph to get people to pay attention to him.
Unfortunately, Joseph pushed his luck one too many times. He ignored a family memberâs warning that it would be best if he lived as a dead rat, forgotten and unseen. An assassin struck in the guise of a tutor during one of his lessons. He barely escaped, but uncovered a terrible truth. The family he always hoped might someday truly see him and love him had been behind the assassination attempt. How many members of his family were involved in the plot, he never knew for sure, but their indifference and disdain for him left him with no one he could trust.
The unwanted prince was then forced to flee the kingdom, never to return. Joseph lived as a wanderer, hiding his identity. He changed his appearance as much as he could, even stealing a potion from a wizard once. Sadly, the potion he stole could only change his hair from brown to blue, but it was better than nothing, and he quickly grew fond of the look.
Yes, blue hair is something natural in this setting. This is a fantasy world where dragons and magic exist after all. We can have people with anime hair and eye colors. ;3
The unwanted prince learned the ways of the world firsthand and took many names as he drifted along like the wind. No longer a spoiled prince, he learned how to put on a smile, to placate people instead of antagonize them. He was still alone, forced to be a wanderer until he was far, far away from his homeland, but eventually he tried to set up roots. There, he took a humble job as a jester for a noble, hoping that maybe he could find a new life, one where he could be seen and loved.
Fortune smiled on Jack, as more and more people came to watch his shows, and he earned the stage name of Sunny Day Jack. His performances with silly jokes and stories with sound moral lessons delighted the children. Nobility took notice of him, and he started to make real connections and a real life for himself in this distant land. The lord ruling over the country even eventually took notice of him, a rich and powerful ruler that could afford to throw plenty of gold this entertaining jesterâs way⌠provided he was always entertaining.
Sadly, his good fortune was not to last. Jack got too much attention from the nobility, and a traveler familiar with his homeland took notice of how eerily similar the jester looked to the lost prince.
Word eventually got back to those who saw Prince Joseph, however unwanted and overlooked he may have been, as a risk that could not be accepted. His popularity, however frivolous, made certain people of power nervous that perhaps one day he might return and lay claim to the throne of his homeland.
It was during a performance that the world came crashing down around Sunny Day Jack. The lord that favored him and helped him most with his fame and acclaim had betrayed him to his homeland in exchange for more riches. The trap was sprung as Jack stood before a crowd of hundreds, a sudden accusation ringing out that he was a notorious criminal who had done several heinous acts while the knights of the land came at him in force to arrest him. He barely managed to escape, though not unscathed, his new life destroyed and forever sullied to all who knew his name.
This time the pursuers were relentless. Jack wasnât known here as a prince in this foreign land. There was no one who would show even a token loyalty to his royal blood and aid him. He was now a heinous criminal, wanted dead or alive, with none willing to give him shelter. There was no way for him to use his former name or royal bloodline to gain assistance, as Prince Joseph was long since declared dead.
Jack was a clever man, and a clever man who has nothing left to lose is capable of anything, including mutually assured destruction. His time as a jester wasnât spent as a simple fool. Though he tried to be sincere when forging his friendships, truly wanting a life of happiness where he could be loved for who he was, he had tasted betrayal once, and it cost him everything but his life. Sadly, he was prepared should this happen again. He learned how to be charming, and he used his appealing and kind nature to learn secrets that might help him one day.
One of these secrets Jack learned was of magic treasure that the lordâs family guarded and exploited for generations. He also learned of a few secret passages in the lordâs castle, which helped him to elude his pursuers. With nearly all the knights put to the task to capture or kill the escaped criminal, this left the castle vaultâs security unusually lax. It granted him an opportunity that could save him, or damn them all.
There in the vault was one of a set of golden cuffs, the symbol and pride of the lordâs family, and the very thing that allowed them to take dominion over the land generations ago and rule to this day. These cuffs were said to possess a magic too powerful for any one person to control, so no one dared to wield more than one at a time, but the truth was that if anyone was foolish enough to do so, they would unleash a terrible curse that would doom the land. This was why they were kept separately, for the safety of everyone.
These cuffs have their own history to them, as a fae was tricked into creating them, a bargain for power and a price not yet paid, which was the reason behind their curse. I could ramble on about ideas I have for how they came to be, but their backstory doesnât really matter to Jack⌠yet.
Betrayed, branded a criminal, his hopes for a new life dashed to pieces, and everything spiraling out of control, Jack managed to break into the vault and steal the golden cuff hidden there. Before word of the theft could spread, Jack repaid the lord for his betrayal, launching a surprise attack and stealing the other cuff before it could be used by the lord to fight back against him.
With the power of both of the golden cuffs, Jack defeated all the knights that came for him, but the power he used went out of control as the curse took hold. The power was too much for a humanâs body to contain, so it changed him into a fierce creature that was made of magic, a dragon.
The land around him changed as well, the natural ley lines of magic in the land exploding out in all directions and birthing all sorts of monsters from cracks in the earth. It was chaos, and those that could fled. It was a terrible night of horrors so great that survivors who witnessed the apocalyptic destruction dared not speak of it. Over time, the plants in this tainted land grew strange from the saturation of magic, and what few animals that braved to remain in this twisted land were changed as well. The land, once prosperous and full of smiles and laughter, became a dark and foreboding place where humans refused to linger long, for fear that they too would be cursed and forever changed.
Years passed, and with the survivors refusing to speak of what happened, all traces of what happened the night the kingdom fell were lost to history. The name of the country was lost as well. The place was only known as the dark woods now, named for its twisted features and the heavy clouds that covered the land and hid it from the sun. Speculation of its creation sprang up over the years, the details growing more fanciful from storyteller to storyteller until it became only myths. The closest to the truth was that the fae had regained the land and turned it wild, which, in a way, they had when a clever but desperate prince turned fool unleashed the faeâs curse that had long been kept at bay.
What happened to that foolish prince? The curse kept him bound to the heart of the land, making it nearly impossible for him to stray far from the castle where he unleashed the curse. The more he struggled to escape, the more ways the curse would manifest to bind him to the land, chains erupting from the ground to hold him, thorns of an unnatural, cold substance blotting out the sky, monsters birthing from the land to hold him back and inflict pain on him until he could no longer fight back.
Jack had become a powerful dragon, but his power came from the very curse that turned the land into his own personal hell. His body was warped, a scaled monster with wings and horns, terrifying to behold. Those who saw him would flee his presence, save for those that tried to slay the beast that legend has it is the heart of the curse.
The dragon of the dark woods, unnamed and feared by all, was known as the master of the dark woods, dangerous and cunning. Adventurers that dare risk going into the cursed land for its materials rich in magic are wary of the great and powerful beast. Its scales gleamed of fire, its eyes spoke of endless hunger, and its power was unmatched. None could hope to slay this beast, and all who tried all failed, for only the curse itself is more powerful than the beast it created.
Despite it all, Jack struggled to hold onto his humanity. He read every book in the castle, every scroll and scrap of paper, desperate to learn the way to undo this curse he unleashed. Naturally, this was difficult for him to do with giant claws, but unfortunately for the former prince, he had nothing but time to learn how to use his altered body.
As the world forgot about the lost prince, the sunny jester, and the awful day an entire kingdom fell along with the names of all three, Jack started to forget his humanity bit by bit. He didnât learn how to break the curse, but he did learn of other magical artifacts that had been gathered in the castle long ago, including an enchanted belt that would allow him to change his form into whatever he pleased. He used it to become a âhuman,â but by that point he didnât quite remember what he used to look like. The passing years eroded his memory of humanity, and he had gotten used to his imposing dragon body. The result was a form that was a mishmash of both, a humanoid man with scales, a tail, wings, claws on his hands and feet, pointed ears and fangs, with horns and blue hair.
Jack might have started to forget things over the years of solitude, but he was at least certain that he had blue hair when he was still human.
Funny enough, no matter how large or small Jack became thanks to the magic of the belt, the golden cuffs remained fastened to his wrists. The curse wouldnât allow them to be removed, only warp in size and shape to match whatever form his body took. Even if he were to, say, transform into a copy of a different person to fool someone, his golden cuffs would give away the ruse.
When Jack learned how to transform back into a âhuman,â he went through the motions of being a human in his empty castle filled with riches that were all but useless to him. He wore clothes again, even learned how to alter the fancy clothes left behind to suit his tastes. He learned how to cook the strange plants and animals of this cursed land. He no longer had any need to eat due to the magic of the land sustaining his flesh, but food still tasted good, and there was some satisfaction to be had from creating something. He kept himself sane with what hobbies he could, learning new things, but he could never learn how he could free himself from his lonely hell.
The presence of adventurers into the heart of his land was both a blessing and a curse. It was rare that it happened, and in fact it was several years after the land changed that anyone dared to venture into the dark woods for fear of being cursed for doing so. It was years more before they found its master at the heart of the cursed land.
At first, Jack was elated. He tried his best to be friendly, overly so, desperate for company and help, but this was before he found the belt that made him at least passably human. It had been so long since he had been around another human that he hadnât tried to speak, and with his draconic muzzle, all that came out were terrible growls and unholy noises. The adventurers that found him only saw a great horned beast with claws and fangs, another monster to slay for materials, riches, and acclaim.
Jack never wanted to kill anyone. He learned to fight when he had to, though he tried to avoid killing if he could. Unfortunately, when he unleashed the curse, people perished in the chaos, much to his dismay. Though he tried to approach these adventurers peacefully, he would not allow them to cause him further suffering. His power was so great that it was difficult to hold back, so the damage he could cause was severe. He would let those who fought him live if he could, allowing them to flee, but none saw this as a mercy. He became a nightmare spoken in hushed whispers, a challenge for adventurers to overcome, rather than a lost soul desperate to be free.
In a twisted way, over time Jack started to look forward to anyone brave enough to venture into the heart of the dark woods, even if the result was always violence. It was always a rare thing due to the intense danger of the dark woods. Certainly, they would always try to kill him, but at least he got to spend time with another human being! Being alone messes with a personâs mind, especially for such a long time. Humans are pack animals not meant for solitude.
Sometimes these adventurers would leave stuff behind, and Jack kept them. Dragons have an instinct to horde, and the castle is already filled with treasure. Plus they were reminders that humans were still out there and that someday, hopefully, heâd join them as one of them once again.
Jack tried his best to learn how to talk with his new body, to sound friendly instead of fierce. Unfortunately, oftentimes he found himself getting the opposite result, the words coming out of his muzzle sounding strange and uncanny, which only added to the nightmarish legend of the master of the dark woods.
Every encounter with Jack was a battle more fierce than the last, and the dragonâs legend only grew. His attempts to follow after the humans who fled from him led to the land itself stopping him, and others would be caught in the crossfire. To Jack, the humans that came to visit him were his only hope, and he would struggle harder against the curse to escape, to be with them. This made the curse fight back even harder in more brutal ways, summoning worse monsters. Soon the heart of the dark woods was known as a hellish place, where the land itself would turn against you if you tried to escape its brutal master that hunted you relentlessly.
Over the years, humans adapted, as they often do. Adventurers learned to stick with the outer fringes of the dark woods to harvest materials. It was the least dangerous, relatively speaking, and what could be gained deeper in was not worth the cost, especially if they strayed to the heart of the land where its terrible master lay in wait for any poor soul to enter.
Itâs been a long, long time since Jack has seen another human, and heâs slowly going insane from solitude. He does what he can to distract himself or escape, trying desperately to hold onto his humanity, but it erodes bit by bit with each passing year. Even gaining the ability to transform into a âhumanâ form hasnât stopped his ever steady decline into madness. He fears that one day he might lose his humanity completely and become the mindless monster that those who fought him believed him to be.
Perhaps all that Jack and the dark woods need to heal is a little bit of sunshine.
Beyond the Dark Woods
Outside the fringes of the cursed land, time marched on. Years went by, rulers came and went, borders changed as land was annexed or reverted to wilderness. A lot can happen over the decades, especially in a fantasy world filled with magic, monsters, and mischievous fae.
How long Jack was trapped alone in the dark woods is a mystery. Maybe itâs 40 years, or perhaps a lot longer than that.
Regardless, the homeland that once had a lost prince named Joseph is still around, a relatively stable country all things considered. In fact, it had grown over the years thanks to annexing land from other countries that had been weakened by the results of the curse. Monsters often wandered out of the dark woods, putting nearby villages in danger and impressing the need for more adventurers to cull the monsters that threatened human life. What was once a kingdom had grown into an empire, growing prosperous with its many strong knights and adventurers, though like any place, it had its own share of problems.
But enough politics, letâs get into the other characters, shall we?
MC is a knight, as demonstrated by the lovely Thea in Marsâ art. Well⌠they aspire to be a knight anyway. Bullshit politics have kept them as a squire to a knight of higher nobility since they were a teenager. Itâs been over 10 years already! How much longer do they have to wait to become a knight? Theyâre sick of having to polish and shine Barryâs armor, and if they have to scrub his codpiece one more timeâŚ
Yup, Barry is a knight in this AU, though only technically. Nobility sometimes get granted a knight title for some reason or another, usually as a token to honor them and/or their families. These nobles usually were just knights in name only, parading around as if theyâre this grand figure when other knights did the real battling. They can play the hero without ever actually having to go into battle and send squires to do the menial work for them.
In a sense, Barry is a rich man who bought a title because it was cool, and he makes a big show of it. Itâs pretty much a vanity project, and a way to increase his clout to maybe move up in the ranks of nobility. He has MC announce his presence grandly, something just as over the top as the greeting to Yogurtopia. Perhaps something like⌠âAnnouncing the great, honorable, and very handsome and still very single and looking for a bride, Sir Barry of [insert surname here].â Or something like that, maybe with his noble title thrown in there for good measure. Maybe he could insist his squire plays a horn firstâŚ
Man, even with a proclamation heralding Barry wherever he goes, no one is interested in him. He hasnât had a date in way too long. Maybe he needs his armor to be polished a little brighter.
While MC isnât Barryâs only squire, they are the one often left doing the work, as other squires slack off or wind up getting elevated to knight despite being younger than MC is. Itâs understandably really, really frustrating for MC. They come from a lesser noble house, just barely above a commoner, so theyâre an easy mark for any higher ranked noble to rub the power difference in their face.
Really, itâs all enough to make MC consider quitting to become an adventurer. Sure, adventurers are basically mercenaries for hire at the guild and the jobs can be infrequent, and money can be hard to come by, but⌠Ah, who are they kidding? The squire job might suck, but at least they get the security of steady pay, regular meals, a place to sleep, mild prestige, and they donât have to go camping in the woods for days on end hunting some specific monster or harvesting a certain number of rare herbs.
Besides, MC admires the knights (aside from Barry). Their best friend became a knight a few years ago, lucky dog. Still, Shaun didnât rub it in their face like the pal he is. Shaun looks so regal in his shiny silvery armor, even having it adorned with pretty badass etchings and other decorations. Thereâs a very feline feeling to it as well, since cat daddy has to be cat knight in this AU. Hey, I donât make the rules.
âŚOh, wait. :3c
Anyway, the other knights can be pretty cool as well. Thereâs this one knight who has been friendly, though MC doesnât know his name yet. The guy acts strangely shy when theyâre around, which is confusing to them. Theyâre just a squire after all, not a cool knight in studded leather armor like him.
Poor Nick has a crush on MC in this universe too and is pretty tongue tied around them. MC might still be a squire, but thereâs just something about them that lights up a room. Their spirit isnât crushed despite the fact that they shouldâve been a knight years ago. He envies how easily Sir Shaun can chat with them.
Of course, Shaun is in the same boat as Nick, in that he also has a crush on MC and can be pretty clumsy with how he tries to express it. Still, in spite of this, he would have tried to see if they could be something more if not for a certain scandal that happened.
The reason why MC is still a squire, or at least one of the biggest reasons, is because of rumors that they were the secret lover of Prince Ian, the current heir to the throne.
Of course, given that MC is barely above a commoner, the idea of them getting together with the crown prince is scandalous. They got to know each other as children, with MC serving as a page to play with the young prince. When the queen caught wind that the prince saw them as anything more than a playmate in their teen years, their relationship got exceedingly strained.
Ian is in love with MC, and they felt the same, at least at one point. All the time they spent together while growing up led to fondness, then sweet first love. Unfortunately, they knew early on how their different stations meant that the chances of them being together were almost non-existent. This led to a lot of mutual pining, moments where they were tempted to act on their feelings, and some secret encounters between the two.
In spite of the queenâs interference separating them, MC and Ian saw each other in secret as much as they could. They started a forbidden romance together, and the two of them convinced themselves that maybe, somehow, they could defy the odds.
But the weight of the crown hangs heavy on the head. As Ian was swept up in his duties and the time he would be crowned as king drew ever closer, he had less and less time to spend with MC. His motherâs interference certainly didnât help, especially since she was trying to get him engaged to a high ranked noble woman to ensure that he would be able to sire the next generation of royalty.
While yes this fantasy world is far more open with gender expression and loving others regardless of gender, nobles tend to be uptight when it comes to making sure their bloodline and power continues. Plus Ianâs mom is still abusive and controlling of her son in this universe too, and she uses not only religion to bully Ian but politics and duty as well. As queen, she has a lot more power too, and a lot more flying monkeys to spy on her son and interfere.
In a way, itâs lucky that the queen hasnât decided that MC is a threat that must be entirely eliminated at all costs. No assassination plots⌠yet. Mostly itâs interference and petty revenge by forcing MC to remain a squire instead of a knight. She could throw MC out, but then how can she occasionally be petty if MC never comes to the palace? MC might be Barryâs squire, but everyone follows the queenâs orders, and a narcissist needs attention and others to bow down to them.
Unfortunately, the queenâs schemes did succeed. Ian, in a moment of weakness, fell for the seductive charms of one of his potential fiancees. He felt awful for betraying MC, to the point that he had to see them despite the risk of his mother catching them, so that he could confess what he had done and beg for forgiveness.
MCâs heart was broken, but what was worse was that it became a huge scandal. Someone had seen Ianâs confession and begging, and soon word spread like wildfire. Now everyone knew that they had secretly been lovers and that the prince was begging a mere squire for forgiveness. Ianâs reputation took a hit, while MCâs outright tanked due to the scandal, and things became much harder for them, and people have been keeping their distance from the squire that dared think they could become a future kingâs consort.
Since then, MC has kept their distance from Ian as much as possible, and Ian, reluctantly, has given them space, knowing that heâs messed everything up for them. But⌠when heâs king, not even his mother will be able to stop them from being together. When heâs king, heâll be able to fix everything. He just has to do what he can to make sure that happens. Then he and MC can finally be together in the open, stations be damned! Then he can truly make amends and be forgiven for what heâs done.
Shaun was there to support MC with their broken heart. While his becoming a knight has put a bit of distance between them, as he has more duties to attend to, including being sent away on missions for the country, he makes sure to keep in touch and meet up with them as best he can. Anyone who dares to say a bad word about MC in front of him is getting this catâs claws.
Nick is no stranger to scandals. Heâs basically the most popular knight in the realm, with countless admirers. Perhaps they could offer MC a word or two on how to deal with so much unwanted attention and rumors rumbling in the background.
A Squireâs Quest
Now, how does Jack factor into MCâs life without a compelling VHS tape to tie them together? Well, the instigating factor in this universe is that a thief made off with an important treasure, and Barry the knight was tasked with retrieving it. As Barryâs squire, MC was compelled to come with him to assist, which usually meant doing 99% of the work if there were no other squires with them at the time with Barry taking all the credit. But donât worry, he only does it because he knows theyâll do a good job at it, and it just shows that theyâre one step closer to becoming a true knight!
After traveling quite a ways, tracking down the thief (with MC doing most of the work picking up the trail in the first place), the pair realize that the thief went into the infamous dark woods.
Well, thatâs not good. Sure there are areas that have been explored for materials, but still⌠the cursed land is quite dangerous. Barry decided that the best way to divide the work is for MC to continue to follow the thiefâs trail, as they were better at tracking, and he, being much better at supervising and dealing with people, would see if anyone nearby could get information about what the thief might have been after, maybe set up a trap that MC could chase the thief into.
MC had to seriously consider their life choices up until this point, but if they quit now, that meant kissing goodbye to the stability they had going for them. Also, itâd probably bring dishonor to their name, maybe damage their lineage permanently, and so on and so forth.
Well, if they quit to become an adventurer, theyâd have to do stupid things like trek through the dark woods anyway. Besides, the thief already stole a national treasure, which meant they werenât stupid enough to go hunting for the invincible dragon guarding the heart of the forest, right? Sure thereâs rumors that maybe the dragon guards the greatest treasure of all, but no way the thief is that dumb. No oneâs actually ever seen any real treasure, or have a consensus on what the supposed greatest treasure is actually supposed to be.
After a hard internal debate, MC ultimately decides to brave the dark woods, tracking the thief stealthily. They may only be a squire, but they would probably be the greatest knight in the kingdom if not for politics. Their exact combat style is up to interpretation and personal preference, but theyâre no stranger to slaying powerful monsters. Theyâre also used to Barry giving them unreasonable demands like this one.
And, hey, at least theyâre not mortifying themselves by singing Barryâs praises when he enters a room while theyâre busy with this stupid quest. Thatâs got to count for something, right?
Right?
Yeeeahh, okay, MC is obviously just lying to themselves and they know it, but damned if they do, damned if they donât. They swear to themselves that theyâll only go as far as the hunting expeditions usually travel into the forest. If the thief really is stupid enough to go to the dragonâs lair, MC will just circle back and just tell Barry that the dragon probably just killed the thief, or something. No way theyâre going to risk getting eaten by an unstoppable dragon.
These thoughts are a small comfort as MC follows the thiefâs trail. Occasionally they have to fight magic-tainted plants or monsters. Their skill shines despite the dark gloom of cursed woods. They even get some nice materials they can sell for some extra cash. Maybe being an adventurer wouldnât be too bad a gig after allâŚ
Just then the loud noise breaks the eerie calm. Some sort of explosion. Magic? Fireworks? Regardless of what it was, it riled up something. That something is big, nasty, and charging right at them! In fact, itâs a lot of somethings! A pack of creatures got aggravated, and MC is forced to run!
Now, was this a natural occurrence? A bit of misfortune? Did the thief make a false trail to trick MC into going on ahead while they secretly doubled back and used a small explosion to make the monsters go nuts on MC while they used the commotion as a cover to make their escape?
Perhaps. Perhaps. MC certainly isnât in a situation to figure out which of these possibilities it was at the moment though, as theyâre too busy running for their life, inwardly cursing Barry, the queen, the thief, and anyone else that annoyed them lately. If they knew they would die today, they wouldnât have held back last week when that one jerk stole their cinnamon roll. They wouldâve at least had the satisfaction of telling them off for it!
Sarcasm and sass are a good way to cope, but MC knows full well the gravity of their situation. They quickly lose the trail back the way they came, forced to do battle with creatures that are in their path while avoiding being overwhelmed by being so outnumbered. Itâs only through a mixture of skill and sheer dumb luck that they manage to survive.
And by dumb luck, I mean that they fell into a catacomb through a ruined ceiling that was keeping it hidden underground.
Well, shit. From bad to worse, right?
Nothing for it, MC is forced to find a way out of the catacombs, then somehow find a way to leave the dark woods without another group of monsters going aggro on them.
Piece of cake. Noooo problem. They just have to avoid the castle at the center of the dark woods that the dragon supposedly uses as its lair, and theyâre fine. An old crypt with some undead ready to pop out is better than an unstoppable dragon. Right?
As you may have guessed, MC is, in fact, going in the direction of our lonely dragon prince. Is it just bad luck? Is it some sort of intuition or instinct drawing them to Jack? Are they bound together by fate? Is it some sort of spell Jack has cast that compels humans to seek him out because itâs been forever since a human came by, and heâs desperate for both company and freedom? Maybe some combination of these things or something else entirely. Whoâs to say~? Itâs up to interpretation/personal headcanon~
In any case, MC is very taken aback when they meet Jack face to face for the first time, as is Jack really. Itâs been so long since heâs seen someone. A part of him wonders if MC is actually real. When they get defensive and try to figure out who or what he is, he does his best to placate them, even if they might have their weapon out and ready for battle.
Jack puts his best foot forward, being friendly and welcoming. He invites MC to his home. They look exhausted and like theyâve had a hard time. MC isnât exactly trusting this at face value, being very guarded about the whole exchange despite how cheerful and friendly this man with wings and horns is being. Heâs also getting dangerously close. Should they try to use their weapon to ward him off, like Thea might have done with her sword, Jack is skilled enough in combat by this point to easily redirect her sword with his claws.
Oops, that put Thea off balance. Donât worry, her new pal Jack is quick to catch her before she takes a tumble.
âCareful, we wouldnât want you getting hurt, would we?â Jack said, his tone playful.
Despite MCâs skills, they are hopelessly outmatched by Jack. He has far more experience with combat, and he has the insane powers that the curse granted him.
Of course, MC is pretty quick to put together that Jack is the invincible dragon that rules the dark woods, which means that theyâre utterly screwed. Strangely enough, Jack isnât really acting like the monster people whisper about. Itâs almost enough to make MC wonder if they arenât mistaken, but the dragon features and his overwhelming strength kind of gives it away. The fact that Jack brings MC back to his castle pretty much seals the deal.
So MC is stuck as a guest with Jack. The dark woods are too dangerous for humans to wander around alone, especially at the heart of the forest. Heâs curious about MC and why they would take such a risk, very concerned by their recklessness. Why were they there?
Itâs an awkward situation, but MC has no choice but to play along. How much they resist or comply depends on the MC. I figure Jack indulges even a very resistant MC due to how lonely heâs been. He can easily disarm any attempts to attack him or thwart them from getting away, so they pose no threat. He has all the time in the world to convince MC to lower their guard.
And Jack is just so⌠so nice. Itâs hard not to find him charming. He seems so concerned about MC, and theyâve been having such a hard time with, well⌠everything. The castle, despite being old, has been maintained decently well. The rooms are decorated so nicely, filled with clothes for them to wear, and the food Jack makes is fantastic. Holy crap, his cooking is out of this world!
Really, the longer MC stays there, the more it seems like thereâs nothing Jack canât do, and their stay is kind of like a vacation in ways. Given how much time heâs had to teach himself new things, itâs no wonder he has become something of a jack-of-all-trades.
I make no apologies for that pun.
Here then comes the classic conundrum when it comes to Jack - does MC fall for his charms, or remain suspicious and hold him at armâs length? Theyâve been feeling pretty lonely and beaten down by life for a while now, and Jack seems almost too good to be true. Itâs not like heâs keeping them captive, but theyâre in the heart of the dark woods. Outside this castle are some of the worst, most dangerous monsters imaginable. Jack can protect MC if they stay there in the castle with him, but he canât go very far from the castle, so he canât help them leave the woods. That is why heâs keeping them from leaving the castle. You know, aside from not wanting to lose the only company heâs had in so many years.
Jack is right about the danger, unfortunately. Whether MC tries to slip away from the castle or just scopes out the surroundings via a window, they find that itâs surrounded by monsters far too dangerous for them to handle alone. Thereâs no way they could make it, and if they tried, theyâd only survive thanks to Jack coming to their rescue.
Of course, Jack acknowledges that MC is powerful. He saw them try to attack him if he did, or he just can tell in simply because they made it all this way on their own. Itâs just, well, thereâs only so much anyone can do on their own. Sometimes we all need a friend to help us out.
If Jack could leave, then he could help MC leave too, but heâs stuck in the castle. Heâs been there for such a long, long time.
Whether his tragic plight is enough to make MC sympathize is, of course, up to the individual. I do know my gal Alice is going to want to help him after hearing him out. Being trapped in this awful place by a curse is a fate she wouldnât wish on anybody.
Not to mention helping Jack would help MC leave the dark woods. Thereâs no threat he canât handle after all. Theyâd be getting their own personal dragon bodyguard.
Perhaps with a pair of fresh eyes and more knowledge of the state of the world, MC will have better luck figuring out how to free Jack from the curse. Maybe theyâll just play along to not upset their super powerful host so they can escape. It would certainly take time for MC to really trust Jack, even if he seems so friendly and kind⌠and, they have to admit, this place is lonely and very unsettling for anyone to stay in, even if Jack has tried his best to make it look nice. Itâs certainly creepy to be alone here in the heart of the dark woods. The castle is better than the woods full of monsters, but stillâŚ
Anyway, the interactions between MC and Jack are up to the individual to decide. Romance the dragon, or flee from the dragon in the end. Being stuck together can bring a sort of fondness, and Jack falls in love. It makes him determined to never lose MC, ever, so he falls down the yandere path, which can lead to some pretty obsessive moments depending on the choices made.
As for the alternate love interests, after Ian receives word that MC disappeared in the dark woods, he sends knights on a quest to find and rescue them, despite the queenâs interference. This of course includes Shaun and Nick, who are the first to volunteer for the rescue mission. Despite the queenâs meddling, not wanting to waste manpower on a thorn in her side, Ian finally takes a stand against his mother for the sake of MC and their love, and the expedition is sent.
Unbeknownst to the knights, Ian sneaks along with them in disguise. He canât just sit back and wait while MC is in danger. He canât let them down a second time. Heâll prove to them, and himself, that heâs truly worthy of their love.
From there itâs trials and tribulations of the guys trying to rescue MC from the dragon⌠provided that MC still wants to be rescued by the time the guys reach the castle.
Really, in order for all of the love interests to spend time with MC and interact, perhaps Jack will be brought back with them somehow, like he found a loophole in the curse or a way to bind him to MC. That way, Jack can leave the forest, so long as itâs with MC, with the added bonus that he canât stay too far away from his sunshine. Itâd create something of a dynamic similar to the game, only in this case everyone can see Jack and learn that heâs an incredibly dangerous dragon that has the power to kill all of them if he so chooses. Not that he would ever! Heâs MCâs best friend after all. He just wants to protect his sunshine.
Though chances are MC will want to hide the whole âdragonâ thing if they decide to leave with Jack. Maybe coach him on how to better pass for a human. Best not to scare people, am I right?
Or this AU could just stick in the castle where MC chooses to either romance the dragon or flee the dragon. I know which one Alice is going to choose, regardless if they stay in the castle or go back to civilization.
On that note, letâs get to the part that I suspect youâve all been really waiting for.
(S)laying the Dragon
With Jack being a mythical creature, that offers possibilities for a very kinky fun time. Thereâs his obvious features like his sharp teeth and claws, but thereâs also those long pointy ears that are perfect for nibbling, and maybe offering a bit of emotional expression in the way they tilt. Then, of course, thereâs the tail and wings, perfect to wrap around his sunshine. Heâs got even more limbs to hold them close!
Now⌠dragon anatomy is pretty much whatever we want it to be. Bad Dragon has the name for a reason after all. Want dragons to have two dicks similar to snakes? Go for it. He could still have that while heâs in his âhumanâ form too. In fact, with a belt that allows him to change his shape, he could alter himself in very fun ways. A funky fantasy dick with ridges and/or bumps? Perhaps some tentacles anybody?
I mean, Jack has been alone for a long, long time. Heâs only had himself to entertain and experiment with. He might have some very kinky tricks that no one has ever tried before.
To be fair, the tail is probably prehensile, so it might be able to be used like a tentacle for sexy times. He might not even need a second dick to plug up all of MCâs holes at once.
Dragons tend to have long tongues, so french kissing Jack is going to be intense, especially if itâs forked too. Then of course thereâs oral. Naturally, heâll be careful with those sharp teeth of his. Well, unless MC is into something a little rougher. Jack doesnât want to hurt his sunshine (humans are so fragile after all), but if they like a little pain, well, their good old pal Jack will oblige them!
In my personal fantasy headcanons, pointy ears and the base of wings and tails are sensitive erogenous zones. Nibble on Jackâs ears, please! Preen his wings and make him feel loved and cared for. Rub at the base of his tail, and heâll get hard instantly.
The scales might be harder than armor, but theyâre nice and smooth, and have a nice feel. Jack has some control on just how hard or soft his body is at a time due to the beltâs power. Unless otherwise requested, Jack is very gentle with his sunshine, worried about going too rough due to how easy it was for him to hurt others.
Of course⌠Jack is also so desperately lonely and horny. MCâs presence has been his only bright spot in so long, and he loves them so much. When they love him too⌠well, it was already so hard for him to hold himself back. It wouldnât be that difficult to rile him up and make him start to lose control, struggling to hold back his power even as he tosses MC around and takes them.
Naturally, many of my personal sexy headcanons for Jack apply in this AU. This includes a breeding/seeding kink. Itâs a bit more pronounced here. If MC has his child then theyâll never ever leave him after all, and theyâll be bound together forever and ever and ever. Even if a child is off the table, the act of breeding/seeding alone is enticing, making them beg him to take them and fill them up with his hot cum is something that he fantasizes about often.
Of course, Jack doesnât simply want sex with MC, he wants to make love. They make him feel truly loved for the first time in forever. Did he ever feel so loved before? He wants to experience their love in every way he can, fill them up with it until heâs a part of them forever.
Jack wonât ever force his sunshine, no matter how desperate he is for their love or to make love. Heâll go crazy with need, but always hold himself back if they need him to. As long as they love him, he can take care of himself sexually like he always has. Heâs just been so empty, alone, and unloved for so long. MC fills them up with love in a way that he canât live without anymore.
Naturally, when the pair do start making love, Jack canât get enough, and his stamina is insane. MC is without a doubt going to be the one passing out first after theyâve been fucked senseless with Jack thrusting inside them, babbling how much he loves them and how good they make him feel. The more they go on, the more feral for their love Jack becomes. Heâs needed his sunshine so, so badly, and now that he has them and their love, he canât live without them anymore.
Of course, with a dragon AU and a shapeshifting ability, you can get really creative. For one thing thereâs his full dragon form, which would be a giant compared to MC. Size difference anyone? Plus the exact details of how Jack looks in his dragon form could offer interesting possibilities of its own.
Then of course thereâs even more furry-related kinks like oviposition or stuff like that. It's not for me personally, but I can imagine Jack would be open to experimentation and indulging in MCâs kinks, even the more outrageous ones. After all, itâs all just more ways to show just how much he loves his sunshine~
You best believe Jack has a predplay kink in this universe. He can smell MC and track them down easily. If that doesnât work, thereâs all sorts of magic heâs learned over the years that can do the trick. Of course he doesnât want to scare MC, but when itâs good fun, it can lead to a delightfully spicy time~
While Iâm on the topic of Jack smelling MC, he is addicted to their scent. The smell of their pheromones easily riles him up, practically sending him into rut like an alpha from Omegaverse!
Naturally, since Jack is a dragon, he has a horde. The castle was loaded with treasure, and it is pretty and shiny. It looks nice all piled together, maybe even neatly decorated. No doubt heâll want to make love to his sunshine atop a pile of shiny gold coins and jewels, though heâll make sure that heâs on the bottom so they donât get jabbed by the hard edges⌠unless theyâd like that, of course.
Of course, the true treasure Jack is hoarding in his lair would be MC. Gold and jewels are nice, but they donât hold a candle to the love of his sunshine~
Wow. I think this is the longest headcanon post Iâve ever made while sticking with neutral MCs for the most part. I think Iâm long overdue to shamelessly self-indulge with my OTP. Letâs see how Aliceâs choices will affect this AU and how events unfold, shall we?
Lady Alice of House Rose
Naturally, Alice canât have the surname of King in a setting like this, so Iâm going to use her middle name as the house name.
Fun fact, Rose is the middle name for Barbie and Coraline too!
Yes, that means Barbieâs full name is Barbara Anne Rose King.
Yes. Yes, that pun was indeed intentional.
No, I will not apologize. Her name was picked to be a pun in the first place after all. ;3
Anyway, back to Alice. Being the eldest child, she has the responsibility to elevate the status of her household. Not only are they barely nobility, but their finances arenât in the best shape. She needs money to help her family, and the honor of being a knight in hopes of gaining a better title.
Itâs a shame that the queen doesnât care for Alice and sheâs been stuck as a squire way longer than is reasonable.
Alice knew that it would be impossible for her to marry a prince like Ian, no matter how kind he was, or how close they were. She couldnât avoid falling for him though. It made her more determined to earn a better title, to make something of herself and earn acclaim. Maybe if she became the greatest knight in the kingdom, maybe she can prove herself worthy of royal consort and be with Ian as his wife one day.
Alice busted her ass trying to be a knight despite all the rough training and being forced to work menial, often degrading tasks as a squire. The weapons she specializes in are the bow and magic, combining the two to devastating effect. Sheâs also very good at keeping quiet and being stealthy.
In this universe, Alice never had sex with Ian. Although this fantasy setting is more open about sex before marriage, the gap between her and Ian was so wide, she didnât want to risk doing anything that might ruin their chances of being together. Thatâs why finding out he cheated broke her heart, regardless of them being physically intimate together. Worse, his outburst when he begged her for forgiveness made it sound like they had been sleeping together to those who overheard, and the rumors were very unkind to the two of them, Alice especially.
Ian cheating proved to Alice that she was only fooling herself that they could be together. Their worlds were too far apart. Ian was to be king someday and she⌠well, maybe sheâll reach the title of Baroness. Though Ian begged for forgiveness, and Alice gave it to him, she couldnât go back to the way they were. Advice from Shaun and others helped her see that it was best for everyone involved that she simply remain as the loyal (future) knight and Prince Ian as only her liege.
Letâs skip ahead to the mission to catch the thief in the dark woods. Aliceâs best means of combat is the stealth kill. She sneaks quietly, sets up magic traps, fires arrows when the enemy is unaware, and in general takes her time to take her enemy at her own advantage. She actually works pretty well as a solo fighter due to being so stealthy. Though she is good at hand to hand combat if need be, she prefers to strike before her enemy realizes sheâs there, and sheâs amazing at her skills. Why, if she put her mind to it, she could be a skilled assassin. (Or in another world, a sniper.)
The horde of monsters the thief set off to charge after Alice was almost her undoing. By the time she fell into the catacombs, she passed out from exhaustion, having drained her mana dry. She might have been doomed if a monster came upon her then, but fortunately the master of the dark woods found her in time.
Alice was pretty darn shocked to wake up in a surprisingly fluffy bed, with her armor removed. Not all of it fortunately. She had her modesty protected and her softer clothes still on, but the uncomfortable hard outer plates were removed so that she could sleep peacefully. Jack was apologetic about removing any part of her clothes without asking, even blushing about it, but he didnât want her to be uncomfortable while she recovered.
Needless to say, Alice is wary of Jack at first, but he did save her life. She does piece together that heâs the dragon pretty quickly and is naturally wary, deciding that the best course of action is to rest up, heal, and carefully get information from the legendary master of the dark woods.
The rumors and legends are so varied, itâs hard to know what exactly is the truth. The dragon of the dark woods doesnât even have a name, and some of the tales are clearly exaggerations. Since Jack is showing himself to be surprisingly friendly, and he saved Alice from certain death, she decided to trust him⌠at least enough to remain civil and learn more about him, the castle, and the dark woods.
After asking many questions and getting as much information as Jack can give her (though much of it is confusing due to how rusty he is with socializing), Alice agrees to help him find a way to break his curse. Sheâs taking a risk, but if she leaves the castle on her own, sheâll die. If she stays, she can keep an eye on Jack to see if heâs really as good and gentle as he presents himself to be. If she has to, sheâll find a way to escape without him if she gets the sense that heâs using her to escape the forest in order to conquer the world or something.
Being very good at sneaking, Alice does slip away to search around the castle for answers on her own as much as possible. However, Jack canât stand the idea of losing track of her, and all it took was one time of losing track of her for him to leave a magic tracker on her discreetly so he can find her wherever she goes - for her own safety of course! He canât stand to be far from her. He has to give her time to herself, since if he leaves her with no privacy she wonât trust him, but itâs so hard to stay away. Heâs so lonely.
At first Jackâs feelings for Alice are platonic, just a lonely man in desperate need of friendship, but over the time they spend together, getting to know one another, he falls in love and falls hard. Alice, naturally, takes much longer to fall after her relationship with Ian fell apart. At first, Jack is someone she canât quite trust because heâs a stranger, then she is cautious because heâs a powerful dragon with many unflattering legends about the monster that he is, then itâs concern for the power imbalance between them⌠but eventually she sees that heâs just a lonely, sweet dork who just wants a friend.
Of course, Alice wonât realize he wants much more than friendship until later. Jack doesnât want to scare her away after all.
I donât think Shaun, Nick, and Ian are just going to sit back and wait long to try and find her, but I want to give Alice and Jack plenty of alone time, so Iâm going to go with the idea that when humans come deep into the heart of the woods, at first Jack is excited. More friends! Then he becomes fearful when he realizes theyâre looking for Alice. They want to take his sunshine away. Sheâll leave him, forever!
Well, that wonât do. Jack doesnât want to hurt them, but he can just make it difficult to find the castle. Maybe use the power of the cursed land to rearrange the forest when the search party isnât looking, mix them up so that they find themselves suddenly outside the woods. Jack might not be able to leave due to the curse, but heâs not known as master of the dark woods for nothing. He can wield the golden cuffsâ power however he likes, just he can never leave.
Jack just needs to divert them long enough that they give up and leave, or he can find a way to escape with his sunshineâs help. Alice knows many interesting spells, being very creative with magic in ways that he never thought of before, and she knows of things that he doesnât due to coming from outside the woods. With her help, he is able to figure out a way to free himself from his imprisonment⌠provided that he remains close to his sunshine. Itâs more of a change in the curse than an actual cure for it, but itâs a vast improvement! He can leave the dark woods! Finally! At long last! He can converse with more people! He can make friends! He wonât have to be left alone and forgotten in the dark anymore!
Of course, Alice helps Jack prepare to be around people by helping him refine his âhumanâ form. People arenât going to understand that the deadly dragon of the dark woods is really just a sweet marshmallow, practically a giant cuddly puppy in human-ish form! When Jack can master looking properly human, they can come up with a cover story that he was a wanderer that found her lost in the woods and helped her until she could get back home. Itâs not a lie technically. He used to be a wanderer after all, and everything else is true. Heâs been nothing but helpful to his sunshine~
So Alice has to hide the secret of her new dragon friend, who has made it his mission to win her heart. Jack is willing to wait for her to be ready to love him the way that he loves her, even if the wait drives him crazy, but heâs very territorial, not liking the way the other guys look at her. However, Alice does notice his more possessive behaviors even as he tries to remain subtle about them, and she makes sure to keep her new âpetâ dragon on a tight leash. Jack is fine with that so long as it means heâll stay close to his sunshine.
Iâm going to say that the change to the curse to bind them together does cause an empathy connection because I really love empath magic. Plus, allowing the pair to feel each otherâs emotions and even pleasure and pain is very intimate. When Alice realizes they now can sense each otherâs pain as a result of what she did, Jack makes it clear that heâll do whatever it takes to keep her safe so that she wonât have to experience any pain. Heâll promises to protect her for the rest of his life.
Of course, such a declaration leaves Alice feeling rather flustered. ;3
Overall, it is a bit more of a slow burn than Sunshine in Hell, but eventually the two of them fall in love, much to the dismay of the rest of the male leads.
Naturally love will overcome the curse, because I am an absolute sucker for happy endings. Jack and Alice will find a way to break the curse and remain together so they can live happily ever after. And make love like rabbits hopped up on viagra.
No, I wonât apologize for that pun either.
It wonât come too easily, of course. Thereâs plenty of people who arenât going to be keen to immediately trust Jack, and not just the male leads. He came from out of nowhere, with no known background. Aliceâs family is certainly going to be concerned by the stranger that waltzed into her life after her heart was already broken by Ian, especially since by the time they meet Jack, sheâs already shown signs of crushing on him. The family is going to need to make sure that this new guy is worth potential heartbreak.
Then of course thereâs the whole political aspect of things. This country used to be the very kingdom that Joseph was chased out of many, many years ago. The lost prince is a story that could be uncovered to potentially explosive results.
Why, if Jack had the mind to, he could take back the throne and rule the kingdom that once chased him away⌠with his sunshine ruling by his side after all.
Will that happen with Alice? Maybe. Maybe sheâll actually become a queen after all, or maybe sheâll just live a simple life with Jack who doesnât let on that heâs powerful enough to level the whole kingdom. After all, all he truly wants is to be loved, and Alice is sure to give Jack all the love he could ever ask for.
Perhaps that love will wind up with a lot of adorable half-dragon babies running around. Though they could be fully human if Jack does become a human after the curse breaks. I kind of like the idea that Jack is freed of the curse, but he is still a powerful dragon and can still use the belt to have fun with his shape. Plus baby dragons are the cutest and the idea of Jack and Aliceâs kids being little dragons with tiny wings and cute pointy ears heals my soul.
âŚHoly crap this ramble went on for 26 pages. Thatâs over 11,000 words according to google doc! This must be my longest ramble yet, and thatâs saying something! Well, I suppose thatâs what happens when a dragon lover makes a dragon AU, haha. Fantasy has always been my jam, and I love playing with magical elements.
Anyway, Iâm going to take that as a cue to wrap things up here for now. Let me know what you think about this AU and if you want to hear more about anything in particular. Also, let me know if this post inspires you to create anything of your own and please share it with me! I love it that we can inspire one another to create in this fandom, just like Marsâ lovely art inspired me. I hope Iâve given you a few new fun ideas to play with. Thanks for reading this far!
@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur
#Sunny Day Jack#Something's Wrong With Sunny Day Jack#SunnyDayJack#sdj#swwsdj#Headcanon Ramblings#Fantasy AU#Dragon AU
220 notes
¡
View notes
Note
Here are my theories about N/L relationship. I am positive 50% is true, just not sure which 50%! They had chemistry from day 1, became friends and flirty with no feelings showing until the start of S3 filming. They couldnât help the attraction, everybody on the set saw it and I think J felt it and discussions were had. Up to Sep 22, J referred to Lâs mom and sis as MIL and SIL.
L/N were told that feelings may happen due to intensity, long hours, a uniquely shared experience and the roles they are acting. It was recommended for the sake of their careers they should wait and see if the feelings last. So ends, S3 filming. L goes to his Raya, young girl, vacay mode and ends up with A, who is a close friend of S. (I will not bring his SM fiasco from last year. That boy is just not savvy or astute enough to use SM to his professional advancement!) N starts dating E in April of last year. All is relatively hunky dory. Come Jan and PR training. They probably were just told to let go and let their natural chemistry shine, because PR people are not idiots! And boy, did they. A sees this and probably feels it too and starts to make some demands. She wants to be known as his gf and have an increase in her SM #, so she can monetize it. She posts Hotel locations, etc because they get to stay there at a reduced cost at the least. (The Soho vacays are just brag. L is the member, the rest are just friends that can go with him, but not alone). I am sure to a certain degree, A orchestrated the In Style fiasco.
Feelings get more confusing and complicated with N/L during the WT. A surprises L at the NYC premiere. He doesnât seem thrilled about it, introduces A as a friend. During the A/N âintroâ and hug, A says she thinks N is funny! (She is, but an odd thing to say to your bfâs costar at an after party). Have no idea what other things happen behind the scenes, but all of us fall in love with Lukola. If they had had a wedding reception at the end of the London premiere, nobody would be surprised and there would be puddles of goo worldwide from our collective swooning.
Instead we got the pap pix.
Whoever arranged this is the single most evil and unromantic person in the world. We didnât even get to watch part 2 and we were slapped hard and left confused. A can do whatever she wants, she will never have chemistry with L.
L got the backlash and N came to his rescue with a very sweet declaration. I think the SATC clip which was done during S3 filming was maybe supposed to bring the narrative to the show and funny things? or maybe N was upset by Lâs behavior or inaction? I like to think N is not petty, but who knows. She took it down, because the comments went in the direction she wasnât expecting. (She still needs to learn TT over Insta, they are different beasts.)
Apparently, E exited at some point. Maybe the romantic engagement dinner DM reported was actually a breakup?
Your post on LaLa land, I felt was too on the nose. With this current mess, maybe their professional advancement means no HEA. He did make a post and put LaLa Land?! She has made her career her priority. She is a Hamilton fan, she is not going to throw away her shot!! Is he subconsciously ruining his career? Does he just want to be in her presence and light? Can they work it out?
I brewed more coffee and am sitting at the restaurant with the rest of you. I just ordered a stack of pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream.
Your thoughts?
"Apparently, E exited at some point. Maybe the romantic engagement dinner DM reported was actually a breakup?"
It wasn't until recently that I considered they actual broke up or took a break around Nov/Dec '23 and then rekindled Feb/Mar '24
But that Nic sighting posted by DM was in Jan '24, no?
Maybe they reconnected sooner and then finally parted ways in Mar or early April
I know folks like to say that N wasn't as flirty or obvious until the end of the press tour but the April press junkets and livestream was something else
65 notes
¡
View notes
Text
a few disclaimers before i get into this post:
I have not watched anything past the halfway point of JWCC S4, but I do have a general gist of the plot
I've watched the final s2 scene and a few of the flashback scenes / other scenes from JWCT and S4/S5 of JWCC
I was never a fan of Kenji/Brooklynn, and always preferred Brooklynn/Darius
So I may get things wrong / have missed other lines or opposing sentiments in canon â please feel free to correct me in the comments/replies!
That said, thinking about what I do know, story framing, and the themes it seems like they're setting up... I think it's very likely Darius/Brooklynn will be endgame, and here's why.
1) Having Darius be in love with her at all
This is the biggest one I think, but not perhaps for the reason you may think. For starters, this is noteworthy purely because it's not really 'necessary'. There were a lot of other paths to get to the same place, re: Darius not going to see Brooklynn when he said he would and subsequently feeling guilty about her death. He could've even just been busy (maybe something with the anniversary of his father's death) or even more reserved and upset over Brooklynn and Kenji being broken up, perhaps on Kenji's behalf.
Instead, they chose to have a main character state that he's in love with another main character, and that it's accordingly complicated/messy. However, in the current framing, Darius and Kenji's relationship had more of a fallout over Darius not being there than Darius being in love with Brooklynn being an issue. It's heavily impacted him as a character, but for the other two people in the 'triangle', less so (though we see more of Brooklynn's side of things in S2 of JWCT).
We also see from JWCT that Brooklynn does not, as Darius tells it, make it clear that she doesn't have feelings for him. She doesn't say that she doesn't like him, she doesn't even say no, nor does she let him have an easy out from his accidental confession. Instead she seeks to clarify and only fumbles when Darius asks if she feels the same for him, which is understandable given she's semi-recently (3-6 months?) gotten out of a long-term relationship with their mutual best friend.
B: Did you just say 'love'? D: Oh that? No, I mean, I love all my friends the same way. Well, not the same way, but e-equally. The same amount of love. Even if... the love is different. B: And is the love different with me? D: Maybe. But our friendship is too important to me, and Kenji's my best friend, so let's just forget about it. Unless... B: Darius, I just don't think... I'm not really ready forâ
Which makes sense. In Brooklynn's head, she's had one relationship fail because of her drive/work, and getting into another one wouldn't be smart with that in mind. And again, she's left a 6 year long relationship, moving on is going to take time even just in terms of figuring how to be single as a person in their early 20s.
However, we know that Brook and Kenji had been broken up long enough, and she'd been staying with Darius long enough, for him to develop feelings.
D: But when she came to stay with me, things started to change.
And we also see more than once that Kenji thinks it's plausible that Brooklynn could've loved Darius in return:
K: So my best friend fell in love with my ex-girlfriend. Did she love you back?
There's also the way this is tethered directly to Darius' character arc. If his 'origin point' in JWCT is that he feels like he failed Brooklynn and blames himself for her death, routinely framed under the language of 'needing,' then that sets up a character arc where he comes through for her (even though he's let go of his self-blame about her death "I couldn't have changed what happened" in the s1 finale).
'Being there,' or rather not there, is also a crucial aspect of what led to Kenji and Brooklynn breaking up.
K: I can't be with you anymore if you're not going to be with me.
(Which, Kenji trying to show Brooklynn something beautiful with the caveat "it doesn't last long," and then they break up? Yeah.) And we see that Darius is committed to being there simply because he's called her, sometimes multiple times a day, for months.
Even down to it being ultimately his idea to get on the ship, and everyone else following his lead (Kenji most reluctantly of all), when getting on the ship and going in deeper is identified as
So Darius being there for Brooklynn is something that has to happen in the future, which does not seem to be a part of Kenji's arc, and also works in tandem with Brooklynn needing to let people in / help her (which Darius can also relate to, as they are both fiercely independent and "keep trying to do everything alone"). He's become the person she Needs, narratively, and that's a very hard thing to undo and one that lends itself well to the idea of a future romance.
2) Darius vs Kenji as partners
This is not to say that Brooklynn is a perfect partner, even before things got bad.
She decidedly wasn't for Kenji at least in in the final stages of their romantic relationship, but merely that we routinely see her put her faith in and seek out things from Darius that she never seeks out from Kenji or the rest of the group in the same matter, and they know it. (The fact that Darius' boss Ronnie is also the one who tends to her, and the only person at the point in-universe, to think there's something between the two, also stands out to me.)
For example, the biggest actual issue with Brooklynn being so distracted is that for months (years?) she refused to tell Kenji anything about what she was doing with Dark Jurassic:
For a multitude of her own personal reasons, she didn't trust him with it. That doesn't mean Darius and Kenji are never in the same boat â she faked her death and left both of them, alongside everyone else in the group, in the dark â but that Brooklynn was pretty clearly going to bring Darius into the fold in ways she was never going to do so with Kenji, previously. It's not as though Brooklynn's obsession with the possible smuggling was the healthiest thing in the world, either, but she is 1) an investigative reporter, and 2) that drive to Know things is what sent her to Camp Cretaceous in the first place. If she'd approached things as a team (like she was trying to do with Darius, albeit very belatedly and likely because it felt like she didn't have other options), it wouldn't have been so unhealthy. It was that she was so routinely distracted without really sharing how and why, and therefore not letting anyone help pace her or help her at all, that was the problem.
In a lot of ways then, it's not so much "who's the better partner for her between Darius and Kenji" (though there is some of that), as much as it is "Which one does Brooklynn treat like a partner," and uh... I'd say Darius; her coming and crashing at his place semi long term immediately after her breakup only lends to this, tbh.
Speaking of which, next to the framing of it within Darius' plotline, this is the 2nd most 'damning' piece of evidence to me that they're, at the very least, not going back to Brooklynn/Kenji:
Identity theme
Initially pinged by the S2 trailer's big line of "I'm not the same Brooklynn you knew," it was clear that they were going to explore Brooklynn going on a tumultuous series of changes (possibly reflected by a change in hairstyle) and the idea that she no longer fits / belongs with her old life and her old friends.
This idea of "I'm not who I was / you're not who I thought so we can't be together" is not a new idea in terms of Brooklynn and Kenji falling apart, as we see it in S5 quite prominently:
They, of course, come back from that, as Kenji chooses Darius / the group over his father, and swears to never abandon them again. Nor does he abandon Brooklynn in breaking up with her, even if it leads to a much larger distance between them, with neither being physically or emotionally present with one another. It can be easy to chalk up Brooklynn's sentiment here, then, as being similar:
They can leave without her, because the Brooklynn (the 'you') is one she thinks no longer exists. As Brooklynn immediately follows up with, "I have a job to finish," showing that her determination and willingness to do anything to expose the smuggling ring is the 'one thing' that has stayed intact from Before everything went down (pre-breakup and fallout, etc). She also still gives the team Bumpy's egg, showing that she won't actually fully forsake them and that she does still care.
And, in some ways, I think Brooklynn is sort of right. The person they all deeply new is not who she is; she has become someone new because of her experiences, her loneliness, and trauma. She can't go back to being the old Brooklynn who hadn't lost an arm or cut her hair or hadn't faked her death.
This is pretty similar to what Darius worries in S5, after all:
B: Trust me, Kenji is the one who lost his way, not you. D: What if I'm changing? All the "life or death" situations, the choices between this bad thing or that even worse thing, it's turning me into someone I don't know. Someone I might not like. B: You know why we all look to you? Because your light burns bright, Darius Bowman. No amount of terrible choices can put it out. And I'll follow you anywhere.
So at Darius' biggest moment of doubt, Brooklynn affirms that she knows and sees the real him underneath the terrible choices he's made or their even worse circumstances, and that she sees him as the hero he is, and one that she'll follow. We also know throughout both shows that Darius thinks highly of Brooklynn ("Darius thinks the world of you!"); this doesn't mean idolization or idealization for either of them, but that what might be flaws for other people is not for each other. The scene where they discuss what happened with the breakup is not Brooklynn being entirely fair to Kenji, nor is Darius' tale of what happened ("She was really sorry, for not paying attention, for not appreciating all of this") since it was never discussed in that way. Instead, Brooklyn states that Kenji:
Brooklynn will possibly have an arc where she puts her friends above her mission, much like Kenji had to put his friends above his father. The push and pull of whether friends or dinosaurs' safety is worth more has been a frequent issue, with S3 and S5 notably making it clear that Brooklynn and Darius will both put dinosaurs first, and Kenji won't. This continued into JWCT for Brooklynn as well. I don't think her solution is to not be as obsessive but to allow others in on helping her. She's not being entirely fair to Kenji in her assessment of why they broke up, but the fact she tethers it to identity, something she is wrestling with all the more in S2...
If you feel on a fundamental level that your partner wants you to be someone other than who you are, it is extremely hard to come back from that. The fact that Brooklynn doesn't feel ready to face her friends because of how changed she is, and facing their potential reactions, reflects this uncertainty that she might be someone they don't recognize or no longer love. (Cue literally looking at her own changed reflection and citing what she had said to Darius: "I'm not really ready for...")
This uncertainty has made Brooklynn into someone who runs. She runs away from her friends, she runs away from her feelings, because she's not ready for potentially drastic changes. Therefore in order to grow, she has to trust Darius to be there for her again, he has to make a different choice... they're not the same as they were, maybe, but that doesn't mean they're totally different, or that she's a Brooklynn that he no longer loves.
The way she says "I'm not the same Brooklynn you knew" is also framed as being to the group, yes, but with a specific emphasis on Darius. I'm not the Brooklynn you think is so dedicated and wonderful, tackled onto I'm not the Brooklynn you'd do anything for, because you didn't.
They both have to meet in the middle in order to grow characters; Darius has to affirm that his devotion and love/loyalty for her is unchanged, and Brooklynn has to accept that she can still be a Brooklynn he's in love with, someone who's dedicated and wonderful and accepts his help.
Everyone over and over has reiterated that she needed him. It's not surprising, therefore, if the series decides to go with a romance, and say that she still does.
#dinostar#jwct spoilers#jwct#jwct theory#darilynn#jwcc#otp: noble dummy#analysis series#analysis#this is brainrot levels you'll never see again for this show i think but i had to get this out#and god i really need to catch up in full
46 notes
¡
View notes
Text
oh? you made it! well welcome to
TOASTS TRICK OR TREAT SPECTACULAR!!
[plain text: big, orange text in all caps reading "Toast's Trick or Treat Spectacular" /end]
[id: an image of a front porch at night. on the porch is a chair and drawn to look as if he's sitting in the chair is my sona dressed up as hakuri sazanami from the manga kagurabachi and holding a doctor pepper. on the porch's stairs are three different PNGs of bowls of candy /end id]
come, come, don't be shy! in case you're unfamiliar with the concept, inbox trick or treat is as simple as sending and ask to someone reading "trick or treat" and receiving something in return, usually an image. I have a lot of images though, so I thought I'd cut down and sort out the options into 3 different bowls!
[id: the same image as before, but cropped to only show the candy bowls. in each of the three bowls, there is now the cover and name of an image album which will also be described later in this post, but contain (left to right) gifs, art, and manga screenshots /end]
we've got options! and those options have HUNDREDS of individual pieces in them! so when you're going trick or treating, feel free to grab from any bowl. Hell, I don't expect much action here, so feel free to pick multiple pieces from multiple bowls! (I will set a per-person limit of five though.) for instance, ask for two screenshots, two arts, and a gif and I'll roll a random number generator for each pull, then give you the images corresponding to what the RNG spits out! or, if you're feeling particular, you can choose which piece you pull! each bowl has a set number of pieces, so you can fully skip the RNG! just so you know, smaller numbers will be older and bigger numbers will be more recent ;3 pay attention to the item count in the bowl descriptions below, that tells you how high you can go when picking. I plan to run this from now until Halloween, but really it'll keep going til I stop getting trick or treaters! have fun out there nyall!! bowl descriptions are under the cut <3
Gif Bowl:
[plain text: big-ish green text reading "gif bowl" /end]
a collection of gifs I've saved over the years! at their earliest there are some from (shudders) 2017 though admittedly I'm not entirely sure if those ones still work. 285 items.
Art Bowl:
[plain: big-ish purple text reading "art bowl" /end]
this bowl contains... well not all, but MOST of the art I've ever made! from 1st grade art projects, to middle school ship art, to my more modern stuff! this is your chance to make me post it all. 493 items.
Manga Screenshot Bowl:
[plain: big-ish orange text reading "manga Screenshot bowl"]
when I read manga, I tend to read things my friends have read, and I always want to live blog to them. and if I'm reading something where I *don't* have friends that have read it, I still get the urge! this bowl contains the aftermath of those incidents, and includes screenshots from Pokemon adventures, one piece, jujutsu kaisen, golden kamuy, dungeon meshi, and others! 499 items.
33 notes
¡
View notes