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ah0rmone · 3 years

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dazai osamu x fem! reader

warnings: nsfw, minors, dni! dubcon if you squint because the reader finds dazai annoying but attractive, non-consensual touching (at first), enemies/rivals to fuck buddies I guess?, fingering, vaginal penetration.

there are literally two self-defence techniques from here and here

"Why it has to be you?" you grumbled looking at the person who stood in front of you.

"Oh, who else would you like to see as your teacher? Kunikida-kun who's doing everything according to instructions, even fighting? Ranpo-kun who won't lift a finger unless it's a murder case? Or Tanizaki-kun who's always followed by Naomi-chan?"

The obnoxious man in front of you was called Osamu Dazai and, to be fair, you'd actually prefer any other agency member over him. Sure, he definitely had combat experience and, probably, wasn't that bad at teaching, given that Atsushi was still following him. But something about him was off and you didn't like it. Nor that you had any choice, Dazai was there for a reason and that reason was Fukuzawa's order.

"Whatever," you sighed. "Can we get to it already?"

Today was the day when you were supposed to learn some self-defence techniques. Your ability wasn't really of a combat type, so you never participated in fights but it didn't mean that you had a zero possibility of running into problems. It was your own request to be taught how to protect yourself.

However, you didn't feel quite confident at all. You genuinely hated conflicts and tended to avoid people, so all of this was a somewhat essential but still itchy experience. Your sporty shorts and a skintight top wasn't helping the situation either. Especially, since a person with who you were going to get quite close physically was a rather attractive young man. You and Dazai weren't that close, just colleagues who barely communicated. For you he was just as attractive as he was annoying - you wouldn't mind having a fling with him but nothing more. Maybe it was the way he carried himself: overly cheerful, loud and noisy. Or maybe it was the things he was hiding: his true mischievous, manipulative personality.

Taking a deep breath you reminded yourself that it was your idea, something that your survival depended on and that you just had to get over it.

"Usually you're not the one who fights, y/n-chan. So what are we doing here?" Dazai asked, a teasing smile on his lips.

His eyes were gleaming with a vicious sparkle. Your power imbalance was uncomfortable to you. You shrugged, the feeling that he was a big cat and you were his meal strongly sat in your guts.

"I'm here to learn how to defend myself. Like some easy techniques. I'm not very strong, keep it in mind," you reminded with a well-controlled flat voice but some notes of irritation would have been apparent even to the densest person.

Osamu didn't answer, instead, he let his fake smile turn into a smirk. For a moment the room fell into silence and you could swear that your heart was beating too loud. Both of you just stared at each other for some seconds until the smile returned on Dazai's lips and the man joyfully clapped.

"Okay, gotcha! First of all," he took a step closer. "The most important thing in fighting is a stable stance. Stand like this," he put the left leg forward and motioned you to follow him.

Hesitantly you mirrored his stance, the feeling of embarrassment washing over you. It wasn't even the physical activity that you hated but the way Dazai was gazing at you. Predatory eyes were gliding over your skin like he was analysing your tiniest movements. Like he was about to pounce.

Just as you anticipated, once you've finished copying him, Osamu clicked his tongue and stood up.

"No, y/n-chan, you're doing it wrong."

You were about to argue but Dazai was already behind you. Suddenly painfully aware of the warmth of his body you tried to move from him but he was quick to put a hand on your hip.

"Let me help you," his hot breath ran over the shell of your ear making you flinch a little.

While you were contemplating whether you should allow him to be that close, Dazai had already brushed his palm down your leg. Now he was standing next to you, your bodies touching.

"There," he encouraged, moving your leg a little further by the back of your knee. His other hand was still placed on your hip and such a position was taking away any personal space you had before.

"Thanks," you muttered, feeling the light smell of his cologne.

"Now you're standing rather steady, aren't you?" he beamed with his hand still on your leg.

"Ah, yeah," you muttered, grabbing him by the wrist and pushing it off yourself then taking a step back. "Guess, we can move to the actual stuff now."

"Y/n-chan!" Dazai exclaimed. "The stance is very important, I didn't show it for fun!"

You saw the man's lips curl into a pout but either than that he didn't display any sign of irritation by you pushing him away. Keeping that in mind you decided that even though he might not have any ill intentions you should stay on guard.

Something dropped behind the door and as you inverted your gaze to the sound you felt your hair being grabbed.

"What," you didn't even have the chance to end the question instantly being pushed to the wall.

Your colleague's right hand was holding firmly your hair, the other one gripping your waist. You tried to push back, but to no avail - his whole body was pushing you to the wall.

"Dazai," you growled.

"Too bad, y/n-chan," he cooed. "How can you protect yourself when you have such a short attention span? Look at you - one move and you're helpless."

The sting of resentment piercing through your heart encouraged you to grumble through the teeth:

"I told you I'm weak."

"And stupid apparently," he gibbed.

"Listen," you tried to free yourself but instead just shook your hips clumsily. "If you came here just to insult me, let's end it, I'll ask Fukuzawa-san to send someone else," voice full with venom, you wanted to be as far from Dazai as possible but instead felt with dread as your hips bucked into his. You jolted forward fighting for the tiniest bit of space.

If Dazai noticed, he didn't show it as there was no reaction whatsoever. However, your little touch wasn't the only thing he ignored:

"Let me instead show you how to deflect it," he proposed, paying no heed to your words.

He backed up and you got a chance to glance at him with unhidden irritation. He met your gaze with a cheesy smile like he wasn't a person degrading you a couple of seconds ago. However, giving it a little bit more thought you exhaled and nodded. After all, you should've picked up something from this lesson, not just the revelation that Dazai was a total dick and you wouldn't want him to be near you ever again.

You moved from the wall and this time he gripped your hair slowly.

"What you want to do now is to grab my hand by both of yours, then stand back to the stance I showed you earlier, turn underneath the arm, so that you twist it and when the person lets go, just bolt. Got it?"

You hummed in acknowledgement. Perhaps it wasn't that difficult. Perhaps, at the end of the day, the lesson would be fruitful.

"Try it then," he prompted and then tugged at your hair lightly.

Following his instructions, you grabbed his hand and as you were about to go underneath his arm, he spun you. His arm was firmly holding your throat.

"No, y/n-chan, I've told you your stance was wrong," he whined. "Let me show you again."

"What just happened?" you asked confusedly but he already was spreading your legs.

Osamu didn't answer, too busy putting you in the right stance. And you tried your best to concentrate on how your legs were placed instead of his fingers brushing over your ass a couple of times, once getting a little bit too close to your clothed vagina.

"Just like this," he said and his hand slid up from your knee to your waist getting under the top a little.

From your point of view, the skinship was completely irrelevant but you decided to keep your sharky comments to yourself. For now, you were going to follow his instructions and maybe you could avoid the conflict.

Maybe not.

This time around when you were trying to deflect his arm, once again he outpowered you. You cursed as he said with disappointment in his voice (you were pretty sure it was the fake one, he was enjoying it, that bastard):

"You're too slow, y/n-chan. Do you think attackers would just stand there and watch as you crawl your way out of their grip as a turtle in slow-mo?"

"Dazai, I'd appreciate it if you-"

"Again," he cut you harshly, puppeting you around like you were nothing but a doll.

His attitude towards you was so demoralizing you were fighting the urge to end it here and there. Losing all the motivation and looking exhausted, you tried to go through the motion again but Dazai wasn't having it.

"Hm, y/n-chan, kinda feels like you're not trying hard enough. Should I give you a motivation boost?" he exclaimed cheerfully but before you could say that he should go fuck himself he had already pushed you to the wall. Again.

You were expecting harsh words pouring from his mouth, but instead, it was the kisses as he roughly pulled your hair baring your neck for him. The hot tongue travelled from your shoulder to the globe of your ear, prompting you to jolt. Once again you attempted to push him away but could barely move. His left hand was pinning your wrist and his right one was painfully tagging at your hair, cranking your head to the side.

"Dazai," you wanted to let him know that you understood his intentions but he needed to stop when a not so gentle bite quickly shut you up.

He was licking and nipping leaving hickeys at your poor neck. You were squirming and whirling under his touch not giving up yet, so he thrust his hips into yours. There was no way you could keep any sounds in, so a whiny moan escaped your lips. You felt Dazai stopping, a satisfied smirk on his lips, then without saying a word, he continued torturing your sensitive neck. Two things were clear to you: a strong lust was taking over your body which meant that you were slowly losing yourself and that Dazai had just started playing with you, there were more to come.

Dazai. Dazai! Realising who was the man behind you, you tried to gain back control. Osamu was just being a bully, whywere you letting him see you in such a state? He certainly didn't deserve nor your moans, nor your hips grinding his.

You were thinking this but it took everything in you to not just give in to his touch. While you were having an internal battle, Dazai pulled away with a loud pop.

"Five."

"Five what?" you mewled weakly.

"There are five hickeys on your neck," Dazai murmured. "You look so good, all red and moaning. When you can't even do anything. You've been definitely enjoying it, sure you still want to continue learning self-defence techniques?"

You widened your eyes at his words.

"Excuse me?!" you exploded. "What the hell are you implying?!"

With all force, you shoved him in the side with an elbow. Dazai hissed and even though the attack was fairly weak he let go.

"I mean, no kink-shaming," he put hands in the air surrendering.

"What's your problem?!"

It was hard for you to overcome your desire of slapping him but no way in hell you were staying in one room with him for another second. You bolted but Dazai was quicker, catching your hand.

"Where're you going? For a moment there I thought you didn't agree and wanted to continue," he quipped. "Come on, that was just one technique."

"Dazai, let me go," you growled yanking your hand free. "I've had enough of you today, I'm leaving."

You had already turned to leave when he pulled you to the ground. You snorted in frustration, your legs fiercely kicking but the lack of strategy played against you and there you were - trapped under him. Osamu was sitting between your legs with his arms pinning yours to the ground.

You felt unbearably hot and weak, your cunt throbbing against his groin. His face was hanging right above yours, so close you could feel his breath. Unintentionally your eyes focused on his lips then you looked up. Only now you noticed how lustful his gaze was. He clearly was a winner today and he was about to enjoy his prize. As you licked your lips, your recognised your mistake - now your eagerness was more than obvious.

"I'm just parched," you faltered but it sounded pathetic even to you.

"I'm sure you are," Osamu whispered, sitting back. "One more technique and I'll let you go." His fingers gripped your thighs.

Since his weight was off you now, you felt kind of cold. Not knowing where to place your arms, you were about to put them next to your sides when Dazai commanded you to keep them still.

That position was too sexy for your liking - arms are placed next to your head, legs spread. All of it without his control felt like you were offering yourself to him. Like you were submitting. The man was clearly savouring it because his gaze was so intense, in the end, you even had to avert yours.

Dazai clearly didn't like it, tapping your left thigh:

"Look at me, y/n-chan, how else are you supposed to learn?"

You slowly turned back, embarrassed as your eyes darted all over him until they abruptly stopped at his crotch. There was a visible boner in his pants. When Osamu followed your gaze and loudly chuckled you felt your cheeks grow hot and desire growing stronger.

"Concentrate, y/n-chan," Dazai said amusingly but the only thing you could concentrate on was the wetness between your legs. You feared it might start to be visible through your shorts.

"Look, if someone got you into this position," Osamu continued like both of you didn't want the same thing and that thing was to fuck. "You have to keep your arms straight and put them on your shoulders, like this," he gently took your hands and placed them as he instructed. "Then you should put your leg on my hip," he tried to do it for you once again but your leg was wobbly. All the strength you had was wasted on keeping your arms straight.

Dazai sighed theatrically but he couldn't keep a vicious sparkle in his eyes.

"Y/n-chan," he whinged. "You're such a bad student. Weak. Stupid," his fingers were slowly stroking your thigh. "Having a short attention span. Don't you think that you should have concentrated on learning some stuff instead of thinking about my cock?" With this question his arm groped your ass, pulling you closer.

He gripped your hips and you let out a moan. Now you weren't trying to hold back. You were already a loser, might as well enjoy it. Being a tease he was, Dazai wasn't ready to give you everything right then and there but you were having none of it. You hooked your legs around his waist and pulled him closer by his collarbone. Osamu certainly wasn't ready for such a force so he confusingly complied.

"Call me stupid one more time and I'm leaving," you warned him, a confident smirk playing on your lips.

Dazai's face quickly changed from surprised to a perverse one. He dropped down on you, pinning you with his whole body and slammed his hips into yours. As you moaned he caressed your face, lovingly brushing your hair, and then whispered:

"I'm gonna break you, pretty doll."

With one swift motion, he put your wrists in one hand pinning it above your head, his tongue running over your lips then dragging you into a deep kiss. As you two were hungrily kissing each other you felt his fingers crawling under your waistband. You jolted, an instinct of placing your hand over his acting up but he was still holding you firmly. He ran one finger over your cunt but you were already shaking, silently begging for more.

"Dazai," you moaned desperately asking him to get down to business.

"You're so wet, y/n-chan," he licked your earlobe making you writhe. "I wish I teased you a little bit more," he started to kiss your jaw getting lower and lower. "I said that I'd break you but it seems you're already at your limit," he chortled, helping you to take your top and bra off.

"You look so beautiful," he murmured once you were almost fully naked in front of him.

Suddenly his gaze turned soft and you felt even more aroused than you before. Gladly the man wasn't planning on wasting any time as he started to lick, nip and bite one of your nipples, playing with his fingers with another. Moaning lewdly and rutting your hips you put your hand into his hair, curling soft strands in your fingers.

When he finished playing with your tits, he wanted to go further down, to place kisses on your lower stomach, but you decided to get back at him. Placing your straight hands on his shoulders, you put a leg on his thigh just as he instructed and squirmed out of his grip.

"You talk about me but look at yourself," you shoved a knee between his thighs, pushing it at his boner. "You were hard even before I started to feel something else besides irritation."

Now it was Osamu whose breath hitched. You were savouring your little win when he looked back at you with a dangerous grin. That was when you realised you fucked up. He quickly grabbed your leg and turned you over on the stomach. Laying down on you, he harshly seized your hair and hissed:

"A+ for learning the technique, but your attitude towards you teacher," he took off your shorts with pants nearly ripping them. "Needs some correction."

That was when the sound of a loud slap broke the silence of the room. You jolted, a gasp leaving your lips. You tried to crawl from him but his grip on your hair was strong.

"Come on, y/n-chan, it was just one slap. Don't you think you deserve it?" The hand that hit you was stroking your bruised ass cheek.

"It fucking hurt," you spit.

"Was it?" Dazai chuckled. "Say that you're sorry."

"For what?" you raged but another hit was your answer.

"Dazai, stop," you sobbed.

"Wrong," he retorted slapping your ass again. "Plus, if you don't like it why are you leaking so much?"

You embarrassingly bit a lip at his remark.

"A little bit of masochistic, are you?" Dazai noted. "Well, if you insist, I can keep on going."

You knew that both of you were barely holding it, so you decided to submit. Just this once.

"I'm sorry!" You squealed after another hit.

"Good girl," Osamu placed a soft kiss on your back still not letting go of your hair. "Now it's time for a treat."

And with that, he finally pushed the first finger into you. Since you were so wet there was a little pool under you, Dazai successfully pushed another finger shortly after. You quivered and jerked your hips begging him to move. This time around your colleague decided not to tease you.

As his fingers were pumping in and out of you, you were trying to push your head down to steady yourself but Dazai didn't let go. You were completely at his will.

"'m close," you mewled, your eyes rolling back.

Dazai hummed in acknowledgement and withdrew his hand. You groaned offendedly but heard the sound of a condom wrapper being ripped and then felt something else rubbing at your entrance.

Finally, Osamu positioned himself behind you and pushed inside, your pussy stretching obediently. The fullness made you gasp pervertedly. As he started moving your mind went completely blank. The only thing that existed for you at that moment was Dazai and his cock inside of you. He let go of your hair, one hand now was holding your hips and another one was giving attention to your clit.

You had no idea how he was still holding on but once your sensitive bud got stimulated you quickly come undone.

"Once more," Dazai panted while moving and playing with your clit simultaneously.

Even though you were tired, you had actually felt desire growing again. Osamu was just way too good for you to resist. You thought that the only thing he was chasing was his high, but he didn't cum until you orgasmed again denying himself every time he got too close. That's why when you cummed for the second time you did it toghether.

He rolled off you, but you couldn't move even a finger, for a moment you've gone completely numb. Your chest was going up and down with heavy breaths, your heart was racing. None of you spoke because you didn't know what to talk about. Especially, since you, personally, felt way too embarrassed to admit that you had just cummed two times because of an annoying Dazai Osamu.

"Looks like we ended in time!" Dazai chirped after some time and you looked at the clock realising that you spent here one hour. Just like it was promised.

"Wish I had actually learned something though," you remarked lazily, trying to pull on your shorts back. You just had to make it to the shower room and then wear your casual clothes. However, your pants were completely ruined.

"Well, if you think that you need another one, just let me know," you looked back at Dazai and his smirk told you that he wasn't meaning the self-defence lessons. You felt your cheeks grow hot again.

"Yeah, sure," you muttered, awkwardly leaving the training room.

From now on you intended on avoiding Dazai whenever it's possible.

Little did you know he had other plans.

#bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd x reader #bsd smut #bungou stray dogs smut #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu smut #tw // dubcon

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alliedbiscuit · 3 years

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msr fic / s7 post-closure but pre-all things / wc: 3398

Scully takes Maggie out for a birthday dinner, and you'll never guess who they run into.

************

“So, how are feeling about dessert?” the waiter asks hopefully.

Maggie Scully scoffs. “Oh, no. I couldn’t eat another bite. Maybe just a cup of coffee? Decaf, please.”

“Mom, are you sure? You should get dessert,” Dana Scully prods, stopping herself short before she could let it slip, “It’s your birthday!” The last gift her mother would appreciate is a gaggle of underpaid waiters singing some public-domain-compliant version of a birthday song while the whole restaurant turns its attention toward her. Like mother, like daughter.

Well, the daughter made an exception and found that kind of thing charming exactly once. But at least she got a nice keychain out of it. All her mother would get was humiliation and a chocolate lava cake.

As soon as the waiter leaves to fetch their after dinner coffees, Maggie reveals her true intentions.

“I was thinking we could go to that ice cream parlor down the street. If I’m going to indulge, I think I want a hot fudge sundae. Or maybe we could split a banana split?”

“Or you could get a hot fudge sundae and I could get a banana split, and we could split both,” Scully suggests.

“See, that’s why you work for the FBI.”

“Dessert Conflict Resolution was part of my training at Quantico.”

Both Scullys giggle.

“Does Fox have the same specialty? Or is that what you bring to the team?”

“Mulder’s dessert strategy is just to eat everything and then swim a mile and run five the next day. No, he’s a Takeout Menu Marksman, though. He knows where to order from and what to order so it travels the best and doesn’t get cold and congealed by the time it arrives. Might sound like a trivial skill, but it’s a lifesaver on movie night.”

Maggie continues smiling but cocks her head slightly. Dana realizes why almost instantly.

“You have movie night?”

“It’s not a set thing or anything. We just…if we’re not busy with a case.”

“You just watch movies? As coworkers?”

“As friends.”

“Just friends?”

Dana lets out a long sigh as she stares her mother down. Her mother, maintaining that gentle yet challenging grin. Dana considers her response carefully. She could offer a simple yes because that is the fact of the matter. They are just friends. She could criticize the wording choice. “Just” friends? Why does it have to be “just” friends? As if friendship isn’t somehow enough or isn’t valuable?

She could realize it’s her mother’s birthday and she’s the only other Scully woman left to confide in about matters of the heart, and although she doesn’t want to bring up the New Year’s kiss because she still doesn’t really know what it meant, maybe they both need this little gift of honesty, filled with tempered excitement and promise.

“For now,” Dana Scully finally admits.

Maggie’s grin grows as Scully just shakes her head and manages to keep her slight eye roll from reaching embarrassed teenager level. The waiter does bail her out a bit by choosing that moment to deliver their coffees.

“How is Fox doing? After his mother…” Maggie trails off, but her daughter knows not to expect any more specifics.

“Better? I mean, as well as can be expected. The thing is, right after that, he found out some more about his sister. About what happened to her. It was just so much all at once. I was really worried…”

Maggie reaches across the table to lay a hand on hers.

“But, it was almost like he was ready for it. He finally had some answers. Like it brought him some peace.”

“That’s wonderful.”

“Yeah. He needed that.”

“We all do.”

*************

Maggie is the one to spot him first as they’re heading for the door.

“Is that- is that Fox?” she asks her daughter.

“What? No, he wouldn't…” Dana trails off as she looks straight ahead to where her mother was indicating and confirms that it is indeed Fox Mulder, standing with his hands in his pockets and his eyes trained to the floor as he appears to be waiting near the vestibule for the restrooms.

“Mulder?” Scully questions as she approaches, her voice giving away her confusion and growing concern.

His head darts up in surprise, but a beaming smile of recognition quickly overtakes his face.

“Hey, Scully! Mrs. Scully, it’s so nice to see you!”

“You too, Fox,” Maggie kindly replies, although a quick glance to her daughter confirms her suspicion that Dana is still very confused by his presence.

“Did you…did you need something?” She suddenly feels silly for presuming that he must have come there with urgent news or a case or something, but why else would Fox Mulder be at Petrino’s on a Saturday night? Did his informants trade in clandestine meetings in parking garages for family-style Italian?

“Hmm?” Mulder asks.

“You didn’t come here to find me? I told you I was bringing my mom here for her birthday, didn’t I?” He didn’t look like he had rushed to the restaurant from the office or his apartment as she had originally assumed. He had clearly shaved and combed his hair nicely. He wore an olive green sweater with dark blue jeans and a black wool pea coat rather than his leather jacket. He had definitely made an effort.

“You did, but I thought you were going out tomorrow night on her actual birthday. Happy birthday, by the way, Mrs. Scully.”

“Thank you, Fox. I’m going to have lunch with some ladies from church after mass tomorrow, so I asked Dana if we could do Saturday night instead.”

“Ah. What a weird coincidence then. I can’t believe we didn’t see you at all during dinner.”

We.

Oh God.

Mulder was on a date.

Mulder was on a date in this restaurant on the night he thought Scully wasn’t going to be there. Mulder was on a date right after Scully had confessed to her mother (and herself) that their “just friends” status was in the process of changing. Mulder was on a date right after he’d been through so much pain but seemed to come out lighter and more open and he wanted to share it with someone…who wasn’t Dana Scully.

“So, you’ve already eaten then?” Maggie asks since her daughter appears unable to form a coherent statement at the moment.

“Yeah, we just finished. I’m just waiting for her…” he seems to trail off just to motion towards the restroom rather than say anything indelicate, but then he notices Maggie’s poorly masked look of concern toward Dana, and then he notices Dana’s completely unmasked look of shock.

And then he gets it.

“Oh, no! It’s not…I want you to meet her,” Mulder insists as he grabs a hold of both of Scully’s elbows and then glances anxiously toward the restroom door.

Dana Scully looks like she might be ill.

Thankfully Mulder only stammers a moment longer until the restroom door opens and he finds reprieve when a tall, thin woman appearing to be in her mid-60s walks through the door.

“Aunt Helen,” Mulder calls.

Somehow Scully’s eyes manage to get even wider as some of the color returns to her face.

“Aunt Helen, there are a few people I’d really like you to meet. This is my partner, Dana Scully, and this is her mother, Margaret Scully.”

Aunt Helen smiles widely in recognition, first shaking Maggie’s hand and then Dana’s. “It is such a pleasure to meet you both. I’ve heard such wonderful things.”

She lingers with her hand holding Dana’s while she says this, and the younger Scully is left blushing. She hazards a look at Mulder, but he doesn’t look embarrassed by this revelation. He holds her gaze with nothing but pride.

“This is my aunt, Helen Briggs. She’s my mom’s sister. She’s visiting for the weekend from Charlotte.”

They all kind of marvel over the fact that they were in the same restaurant and what a coincidence and oh, we were seated near the back bar, that must be why we didn’t see you and Scully is just starting to feel her pulse return to normal as Aunt Helen laments not having a chance to talk with the Scullys.

“Well, Dana and I skipped dessert so we could go to The Big Dipper for some ice cream. Would you two like to join us?”

“Oh, that would be lovely. As long as we’re not intruding,” says Aunt Helen.

“Not at all,” Scully assures her. “There is one catch, though.”

“It’s not real ice cream. It’s that Tofutti nonsense, isn’t it?” Mulder groans.

“It better not be,” Maggie insists. “I don’t know how she eats that stuff.”

Scully ignores her mother and her partner’s bad mouthing of her frozen treats as she returns her attention to Aunt Helen.

“I’m afraid if you want to come along, you will have to reveal a few good Young Mulder stories. And by ‘a few,’ I mean as many as you’ve got. And by ‘good,’ I mean the more embarrassing the better.”

“I’ll start thinking now,” Aunt Helen laughs.

“I knew I should’ve picked a different restaurant,” Mulder says regretfully.

***********

They’ve just sat down to a small, round table for four with their ice cream when Mulder stands up to get them all more napkins, and Aunt Helen retrieves a small, rectangular piece of paper from her purse that she then deftly slides to Dana.

“Oh my god!” Scully exclaims with joy.

Staring back at her from the paper is a very young Fox Mulder. She guesses he must be around 8 or 9 in the school photo. His long, sandy brown hair falls just above his eyebrows. He doesn’t have his distinctive nose yet, but his bottom lip is already a little pouty. The real give away is the eyes. He’s grinning for the camera, but his eyes still have that soulfulness, that slight sadness.

She’s surprised. She knows she shouldn’t be. His eyes didn’t suddenly change when Samantha was taken. His eyes were probably always like that.

But she had always assumed that the great tragedy had flipped a switch for Young Fox Mulder. That before that single event, he had certainly been a perfectly happy child. Funny and athletic, popular for sure. But the humor developed as a defense mechanism later in life. And the sports were a great physical release as well as an excuse to be out of the house as much as possible. She didn’t actually know what he was like before, but now that she thought about it, home life was probably never all that great if it eventually led to a father sacrificing one child and leaving the other to always live with the guilt and loss.

It was very possible that Fox Mulder had always been a little boy with a lot on his mind.

In contrast, present day, adult Fox Mulder looks like he doesn’t have a care in the world as he returns with extra napkins, ready to tuck into his chocolate peanut butter ice cream in a waffle cone – that is until he realizes what his friend and partner Dana Scully is looking at.

“Oh come on. I was gone for thirty seconds, and you have the visual aids out.”

Scully continues to beam as Maggie finally gets a glimpse of the photo in her hand.

“Oh, Fox!”

“Okay,” Mulder said exasperatedly. “Does this meet your embarrassment quota?” he asks, looking pointedly at Scully.

“Not even close! This isn’t embarrassing. It’s adorable!”

Mulder rolls his eyes but can’t hide his bashful grin at her comment.

“It’s only fair, Fox. I know you’ve seen family photos of Dana at my house,” Mrs. Scully says, sounding like a mother well practiced in settling disputes between children.

“Just a couple. I do like that high school graduation picture, though. I still don’t know how you kept your cap on with all that hair.”

“That was the style back then. Everybody teased their hair and used a ton of hairspray.”

“I thought it might be a religious thing at Catholic school. The higher the hair, the closer to God,” Mulder teases.

Maggie and Aunt Helen chuckle, though the latter gives him a good-natured swat on the arm in admonishment.

“See, this is what I need, though. I need something from the teen years. That’s peak embarrassment fodder,” Scully says.

“If you ask our colleagues, I think my peak embarrassment fodder would come from about 1991 to present,” Mulder points out.

Aunt Helen just looks slightly regretful. “I’m afraid I don’t have many stories from those years, Dana.”

Mulder makes eye contact with Aunt Helen. “You didn’t miss much,” he insists. She looks like she wants to debate him, but he just places a hand on hers reassuringly, and they seem to make a silent agreement to not argue the point any further.

Mulder had never really mentioned any other family before. She knew his grandparents had all passed before she met him, but she had assumed, just like with everything else, that any other extended family connections had disappeared along with Samantha. That no one would know how to comfort and console The Mulders in a situation like that, with no explanation.

His aunts and uncles must have had questions, probably even had their own theories. Did his mother’s side suspect his father’s involvement, or did his father’s side blame his mother somehow? Did any of them blame…no, she couldn’t go down that route. Besides, did anyone ever suspect horrific things like that before the days of cable news and supermarket tabloids?

The point is, it was a tense situation, so Scully assumed they had all done what wealthy white people in places like Martha’s Vineyard and Boston and Raleigh did with any uncomfortable subject – they avoided it completely.

And that meant avoiding the little boy with a lot on his mind as he became a teenager with even more on his mind.

Scully had accompanied Mulder to a small burial service for his mother in Raleigh a few months ago. It was just the service. No gathering or dinner after, or at least not one that Mulder told her about. The attendees at the service were all pretty spread out, not much mingling. Again, it was another sudden loss shrouded in mystery. They all avoided particulars as much as they could.

Scully didn’t remember seeing Aunt Helen that day, but maybe she was there and just couldn’t bring herself to say anything. Maybe she wasn’t there because she couldn’t bring herself to go and then regretted it. Dana Scully didn’t know, and it didn’t actually matter. The point is that she’s here now. And that’s exactly what Mulder’s look of reassurance and acceptance seems to say.

It seems to help her perk up because she offers playfully, “Oh, what about that summer on Quonochontaug? I think you were 9 or so, and you were collecting leaves for one of your Indian Guide badges.”

“Oh god!”

“I’m hooked already. Not to jump ahead, but please tell me there’s poison ivy involved,” Scully says gleefully.

Aunt Helen’s bark of laughter and Mulder’s exaggerated eye roll are all the confirmation she needs.

“It was heavily involved! But that’s not the worst part. While he was working on his Leaf Collecting badge, he also earned credit towards his Wildlife badge when he came across a skunk in the woods.”

“No!” Scully shouts.

“Ivyed and skunked at the same time,” Mulder admits.

“Oh you poor thing,” Maggie adds sympathetically, but with barely contained laughter.

“He had to jump right from a tomato juice bath for the skunk smell…”

“Which didn’t work!”

“…into an oatmeal bath for the itching.”

“Which worked better, but I still smelled like a Grateful Dead concert.”

Both Scullys are full on giggling at this point.

“Do you remember what Grandpa Ralph said when he walked in and saw you and mom dunking me in a tub of oatmeal?” Mulder asks.

Aunt Helen pitches her voice deeper and amps up her Southern twang, “Why don’t cha dip him in some egg and flour next? We toss him in the frying pan, we got supper! We’re havin’ Fried Fox tonight!”

Now they’re all in hysterics. Even the man who usually hates his given name can’t help but laugh along, especially when it makes his lovely company so happy.

*****************

Scully enters the basement office Monday morning to find Mulder already there, flipping through an open drawer in the filing cabinet.

“Good morning,” she says cheerfully.

He looks up and smiles. “Good morning. Long time no see.”

“How was the rest of your weekend? Did you guys do any sightseeing or anything?”

“No, we just had a late breakfast yesterday before I took her to the airport, but it was good to catch up some more. She told me to thank you again for letting us tag along for ice cream. It was really nice.”

“It was,” Scully agrees.

Mulder appears to be considering something for a moment before he crosses over to the desk and picks up a small envelope.

“She also told me to give this to you,” he says almost bashfully, extending the envelope in Scully’s direction. “She told me I couldn’t look inside, and I didn’t. But I think I know what’s in there, and if I’m right, you don’t have to keep it. You can just leave it here on the desk.”

Well, now she’s intrigued. Scully opens the envelope to find a small handwritten note at the top.

“I thought you might like these. I have plenty more too, if you’d ever like to see them or want any more stories. Please don’t be a stranger.”

Scully lifts up the note to see the remaining contents inside and finds a small stack of photographs, a mixture of more school photos along with a few wallet-sized family portraits and a couple candids taken on the beaches of the Vineyard or Rhode Island, she can’t tell. But she sees the same set of eyes in all of them.

She looks back to read the rest of the note.

“I’m so glad I got to meet you, Dana. Take care!”

Below Aunt Helen’s elegant signature, she has also written her home address and phone number. Scully will have to call and thank her.

“She tried to give some to me,” Mulder explains, “but I didn’t really want…and like I said, you don’t have to…”

“No, I’d like to keep them,” Dana insists.

Mulder lets her statement hang in the air for a moment, but he can’t help but diffuse it.

“You just want more blackmail material.”

“Something like that,” Scully says teasingly, but there’s no bite behind it.

“I knew I should’ve picked a different restaurant.”

She chuckles lightly as she shuffles the photos into a neat stack to place back in the envelope, thinking that this is the point where they get back to work. Mulder stays standing in front of her and appears to be considering something again. Does he have another envelope that he’s afraid to give her?

“You know it was pure luck that we ended up at Petrino’s the same night as you. I actually gave Aunt Helen a few options and let her choose. I was pushing more for that Thai place in Arlington, just off Old Dominion. The one that’s been there forever,” Mulder explains.

“Oh, the one with the secret menu? I’ve still never been there. Can’t say I’m surprised that Aunt Helen wasn’t up for Thai food, though.”

“Yeah. Fair point,” Mulder nods for a moment too long before continuing. “Would you like to go there sometime? Like this Saturday? With me?”

Scully slowly looks up from the envelope to see Mulder’s face because in all matters, other than the divine, Dana Scully needs to see to believe. And the slightly nervous yet gentle grin that she finds allows her to believe it to be true – Fox Mulder has just asked her out on a real date.

“I would like that,” Scully says gently.

“Good. You wanna say 7:30? Or we can always figure out time later,” Mulder states, aiming for practicality to keep him from grinning like a complete idiot. He ends up grinning like a moderate idiot, but he’s okay with that.

“Sounds good.”

Yep, Scully will definitely have to call Aunt Helen and thank her.

#msr fanfic #txf fanfic #msr #mulder and scully #dana scully #maggie scully #fox mulder

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tinkerbellwoo · 2 years

Text

Ghostin - C. Soobin

Soobin, your childhood best friend, stays by your side to comfort you through your recent break up. His confession lingers in your head every time you cry over your ex, also feeling the same way about him but not wanting to get into a relationship so quickly.

Inspired by ‘Ghostin by Ariana Grande’

Genre - Fluff, slight angst

Word Count - 300+

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Soobin embraces you as your heart aches beyond words, your damp eyelashes kissing the tops of your rosy, tear stained cheeks. “I know you're finding it difficult to move on right now but I just want you to know you're not going to go through this alone.” He whispers. He's the sweetest soul you know and he's been that way since childhood, always putting himself against the world first to protect you, his best friend.

The breakup between you and your 2 year partner has taken a huge toll on you emotionally and physically, but Soobin is always by your side to make sure you eat, shower and brush your teeth. He’s always held a special place in your heart but you never expected him to feel the same way until he confessed only a week ago. It wasn't intended but after seeing you so upset over someone who crushed your heart, he just couldn't hide it anymore. He was so infuriated at your ex’s actions that his frustration got the better of him and the confession slipped out, he isn't the type to become angry quickly but the fact he’d spent the past 2 years watching you be in love with someone who wasn't him really wasn't easy for the poor boy.

As much as you’d love to have a relationship with Soobin, your wounds are still too deep and you’d like to overcome this hurdle first before taking any big steps. Soobin totally understands and continues to stick to you like glue, making sure you're always feeling okay and if not, he's there to hold you through it.

You know it hurts him when he wakes up in the middle of the night to the sound of your muffled sobs, but he doesn't say anything, he just holds you close to him until you calm down enough to fall asleep again. He has his doubts, wondering if you’d rather have someone else beside you but the truth is, you wouldn't settle for anyone other than Soobin.

“You been so understanding, you been so good And I'm putting you through more than one ever should And I'm hating myself 'cause you don't want to Admit that it hurts you”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

A/N - Hi! I’m back... kind of idk we’ll see how long this lasts :s So I’m starting a little series (that I probably won't finish oops) that consists of individual members paired with songs on a picker wheel, this is my first one, I've got everything planned out for the other TXT members and I've also got ATEEZ members in the works. I’m busy with work and Christmas is pretty stressful this year so I can't guarantee I’ll have much time to write/post but ill try to get into the swing of things! I hope you're all doing well! TY :3

Tag List - @simphwa @woowommy @multidreams-and-desires @yunhospuppy @yunhoiseyecandy @ateezinmymind @jonghoisbabie

#kpop #TXT #tomorrow x together #soobin #Choi soobin #txt soobin #TXT imagines #txt fluff #soobin fluff #soobin reaction #soobin imagine #txt angst #soobin angst #song series #kpop fluff #kpop imagines

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ephemerlskies · 4 years

Text

constant craving 04 (final) | jjk

⇢ pairing: jungkook x reader

⇢ genre: “drabble” series, best friends to lovers au, slight angst, FLUFF, bestfriend!au, unrequited love, smarter idiots but still idiots all the same

⇢ word count: 6.8k

⇢ warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol, excessive drinking (drink responsibly), pining, jungkook is an overdramatic baby, a surplus of feelings (i am disgusted with myself), one (1) fire hazard

⇢ summary: with the Friendiversary approaching quickly, both you and Jungkook have an array of trials to navigate through. and, as Seokjin gets caught in the crossfires, you must finally make a decision that will define how the rest of your life will unfold.

♪ playlist: constant craving - k.d. lang, bad religion - frank ocean, misunderstood - lucky daye, neu roses - daniel caesar ♪

╰ series index: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 (final)

a/n: wow.... so bitches really call this a drabble series then write a 6 thousand word finale... its me im bitches... anywho, i really love the way this played out!! jungkook had to hit the bottom to start rising to the top and it shows. also, the ending is like....... hehe well ill just let you all see for yourselves. enjoy my lovely readers! this wrapped up such a heartfelt series that is so dear to my heart. thank you all for the support for this! and i might whip up a few drabbles simply because i think this relationship is really cute hehe ok... happy reading! <3

part four: i love you too

Carrying that music box in his pocket felt like a well-deserved and all too grim reminder of what went down a few days ago. Sitting drunk yet again, though one would best describe Jungkook’s posture as more of a sloven pile of flesh and bones withering away on a bar stool, he searched for the wallet which was in one of his four pockets.

He reached for the wrong one. Instead of the faux leather skimming his skin, it was a solid wood corner pricking the pad of his index finger. It stung more than it should have. Perhaps he'd gotten a splinter, or the top layer of his skin was simply too raw from all the wear and tear of your fight. Jungkook wasn’t one to jump at such negligible shocks, but it sank him back into that night. It wasn't the wooden corner at all.

You loved him. You still love him.

That's what you said. That's what nearly put him on the floor instead of in his chair, and what had been preying on his mind as if he were no different than a helpless animal drowning his regrets in whiskey. And he knew he should have said it back.

Jungkook theorized ways to defy the cruel restraints of time, and if the universe would be so kind as to allow him to travel back to that day in middle school when he happened upon a scared, flush-faced student running so fast and panicked that they bumped into each other, just to be the one who said 'I love you' first. Or those genies and shooting stars and blessed fountains that supposedly granted wishes; he would pay no hesitation to plead with whatever deity would listen and permit his most prioritized desire.

The retrospective bargaining remained a ghost haunting just about every waking moment of his life. Though, he had not been quite sure if said ghost was some cosmic sent presence or simply his own guilt. If regret took on physical ramifications, then Jungkook would have been convinced that was why he felt as if his legs wouldn't have been able to carry him even if he tried.

If I could just go back to that night with the knowledge I know now, I would have hauled my ass to your house instead of that club and told you that my choice was made for me the moment I met you. Every other person I ended up with these past twelve years was simply a buffer for loving you. I had to prepare myself, because loving you was something entirely too tremendous for a boy still grappling with his own faulty speech pattern to assume.

I wish you knew that. I wish I didn’t stand there like an idiot and let you leave, thinking me some hero for finally letting this new guy Seokjin take the place I had always imagined being in. I wish I had just said that I love you.

I love you.

I love you, ___.

Jungkook’s vision resembled that of a smudged lens. However, there were no fingerprints on his eyes. The world had turned blurry and colorless, the latter he knew was not due to the sixth order of whiskey he let soak into his heart’s open wound.

A life of color was one of the many things that left when you did.

He didn’t know it then, but Jungkook was being fervently dramatic since it had not been more than seventy-two hours the last time he spoke to you. Thought to him, it was akin to being just short of death and taking another breath would have been an expense he wasn’t sufficiently funded to pay.

Whatever happened in the interim of him paying his tab and walking out onto the sidewalk must have landed somewhere in the blacked out stretches of his inebriated memory, since he was now staring at your contact gleaming on his phone bearing the semblance of one guardian angel.

It was so ingrained into his routine. Opening the app with the phone icon, clicking the ‘recent’ tab, and finding your name no further than three contacts down the list because he called you as if he had important things to tell you, though normally it was just to hear your voice or to tell you about what he had for lunch. And it nestled into his muscle memory as natural as it was for him to breathe or blink. Even when alcohol debilitated his driving, walking, and thinking, his body was drawn to seek a haven such as yourself. And he nearly pressed ‘call’.

Before the comfort of your voice could ring through to his phone, reality descended upon that reflex. Right now, you were probably with Seokjin, attending some pretentious art gallery for one of his colleagues.

It was just Jungkook and the night sky and the moon that he hoped you were gazing at too; it would be the only connection to you as of now. The moon, a parcel for the most longing gazes.

There are stories where the two protagonists get it right. This was not that story. That reality stung more than the residual burn of whiskey clinging along his throat.

Both you and Jungkook made every wrong decision possible. From the moment you subjected yourself to exploiting the veneer of being a ‘good friend’ to disguise any true feelings that might have taken light, to the moment Jungkook was presented with all the excruciatingly obvious signs that you were in love with him, but was simply too inept to notice, to the both of you neglecting any urge threatening the bounds of platonic. Any path that would have steered to a destination where you two would get that happy ending was conveniently untaken.

And you had a long journey riddled with heartbreak after heartbreak to prove it.

He traded his phone with that wooden music box, scuffing the soles of his shoe as he walked back home, hoping he’d be able to give the gift to you on your Friendiversary.

-----

Your pain was still raw. In this way, you had not considered, or rather avoided the idea of tending to such delicate wounds. The days leading up to the infamous anniversary had been spent hoping you would organically heal enough to allow the presence of Jungkook while denying another reopening in your wound.

You had been juggling a not so thrilling number of conflicts the three days preceding that self-acclaimed national holiday.

One, Seokjin and his bottomless supply of invitations that you felt too obligated to refuse. He had such a life packed with plans which is more than you could have said for Jungkook. He, most likely, busied himself with promoting ranks in some obscenely violent video game. Two, a mutual friend of yours had told you Seokjin was fixing to make your relationship official this coming Friday, and you didn’t want to admit the lackluster reaction upon hearing the news was equivalent to receiving a C on a test. It wasn't the worst grade to receive, but you knew there would always be something better than adequacy. Not satisfying enough nor disappointing enough to be dealt with without bending a few expectations. And three, all you really wanted, the only agent of excitability (both good and bad) that diluted the festering numbness in your heart just a tad more, was thinking about seeing Jungkook on your Friendiversary.

But with that excitement, was its equally worrying constituent: whether or not you would be able see Jungkook that day without cracking under pressure.

Things weren’t exactly attuned between the two of you. Your emotional stature had never been more unsynchronized and offkey with Jungkook’s, so, forcing a celebratory movie or dinner would be no different than adding cornstarch to the already thick tension.

“___? Are you listening?” Everything Seokjin had just been droning on about filtered in and out without a single word being absorbed, and you could have pretended this wasn't the case but stress had apprehended caring enough to lie.

“Sorry… No, I wasn't. I’m just stressed is all.” Since that was only a half lie, self-admonition had not yet taken permanent residency whenever you would look at Seokjin’s eyes offering nothing but genuine tact.

“Oh, sorry to hear! Are you okay? Anything you wanna talk about?” That, and the soft press of his hand over yours had swallowed you into a perpetual, guilty cycle of comparing two incomparable people.

Seokjin was always like this. Serving a gentle smile and honest ears as a vessel of calmness during whatever calamity you were grappling. It was safe knowing if you fell, you’d have a comfortable cushion to soften the impact. He was mindful with his words and had the intelligence to articulate them with impressive eloquence. You were more likely to see pigs fly than to see him stutter. He had a diverse group of friends and walked a steady path to a financially secure life. And you started to wonder what else one would need in a partner? Any sensible person would do much more than you had to snag someone like Seokjin, as handsome as he was kind and respectful. He seemed to have everything Jungkook lacked, including mutual feelings for you.

It would have been entirely too easy to pick him, as if there was a ‘Seokjin’ button and a ‘Jungkook’ button and you could press Seokjin’s on a whim. If choosing him would have meant miraculous nullification of all your very real and very unremitting feelings for that idiot you called your best friend, then you would have done it in a heartbeat.

There wasn't a 'Seokjin' button or a 'Jungkook' button, nor was there a button that would wondrously redistribute your feelings towards Seokjin.

And then there was Jungkook. Always in the back of your mind when he wasn't tenanting the focus of it.

He was never predictable in the ways that mattered. It was just as difficult figuring out his next move as figuring out whether this trait was exciting or exhausting.

Though, this had not been to say you didn’t know him well; in fact, all his habits and preferences and pet peeves could be bound into a book, written by you, and it would be so accurate anyone who read it would think it was an autobiography. He knew you to the same caliber. Where Seokjin would ask what was wrong, Jungkook wouldn’t need to. He already learned your behavior to know to say something along the lines of ‘tell me what’s wrong when you're ready, we can watch your favorite movie or swing by that Chinese place with those great fried dumplings in the meantime’. And on more favorable occasions, he'd say nothing and simply wrap you in his arms and let his shirt become a delta for your tears.

To anyone else, that might sound entirely too frank and perhaps a bit dismissive to be comforting, but to you it was the exact cure for each affliction. To never need explanations that would validate your feelings because Jungkook saw to that right when he took notice; to never manufacture fake smiles through failed attempts at cheering you up since, of course, he knew exactly what to do to vegetate joy in your heart and earn a smile from years and years —and years— of practice. It had almost driven you mad, thinking about how he knew from a shift in your brow what you were feeling and yet, somehow, never realized how deeply in love you were.

All the while, the moment you were convinced you had been versed fluently in his every move, he would pawn another blindsight that would leave you breathless and amazed all the same. Jungkook always had concealed tricks up his sleeve, and life was anything but repetitive with him. You would more often than not find yourself struggling to relearn language and existing itself just to keep up with him. How exactly he managed to wield such diametric facets of being was an enigma beyond the reasoning of this universe.To feel like home, somewhere you belonged outside of your own body, and a daring voyage into a completely new world all at once must have meant he was some sort of Godsend. Only angels could have sculpted a soul so magnetizing, you assumed.

Seokjin was an umbrella, shielding you on some arcane journey under an unforgiving rainfall. Your shoes kept dry and your hair intact.

And if he was the umbrella, then Jungkook was the rain. Falling everywhere and all at once, so that you couldn't help but let yourself be saturated in his entire, vibrant being. And who’s to say letting such a water fall against your skin was a bad thing? Sometimes rain is cleaning, gentle even. They bear fruits as beautiful as rainbows that guide you to an unnamed treasure.

Your treasure, however, had a name.

Jungkook calling.

"___? Hello? You in there?" Seokjin waved his hand in front of your face mostly in a jesting manner, but part of him felt like your eyes were blinded by something held in your heart. If he hadn’t pulled you back into reality, you might have been lost forever.

“I'm just…” Your attention had abandoned this conversation the second his name gave light to your screen. “Sorry, um…”

“It's okay, you can take the call. I’ll be in the kitchen making us some coffee.”

If you were to thank him profusely, it would have been far too obvious how much you missed seeing his name among your notifications, and most likely expose how often you spent thinking of Jungkook while you were supposed to be enthralled with Seokjin. So, you just nodded and answered the phone.

Nodding and answering, as though that didn't feel like taking a breath of clean air after hours of swimming through muddied waters.

“Hello? ___?”

“Jungkook.” It took you longer than usual to form a response and what was assembled had been a half-baked utterance just to let him know you were on the other side of the phone, hearing his voice and feeling a surge of energy course through your veins like he was some delicious narcotic filling life into you after only a week without him.

“___.” Jungkook was in his own debt of words as well. The exchange halted for a few seconds, a jaded breathing cutting the cracked static.

“Look-”

“Hey so-”

Any hope that you had finally caught up to the same page as Jungkook was lost. Now, it seemed you two were reading entirely different books.

“You go.” You said after another dreadful pause. He was the one who called, so he should be the one carrying the burden of navigating through this deafening tension.

“Well, I- uh… I… Well, you see I was just, um, wondering…” Jungkook’s heart must have shut off. That would explain why even the most rudimentary of words felt closer to a foreign language. Or, why he was making conscious efforts to counteract the threat of his nearly dormant lisp.

His brain was drained dry of any blood, his inner mechanisms were shutting down. Even without the alcoholic filter catching words and common sense in its web, Jungkook felt himself fall into an overactive state of dumbfoundedness. Sobriety only a cataract for his emotional override.

“Our friendiversary?”

“I’m sorry, I did not understand literally anything you just said.”

“Me neither.”

The charming and familiar laugh that spilled through the speaker reminded you that Jungkook was in fact a real person. Not some figmented embodiment of every lost and unrequited and tortuous feeling you had been suppressing for twelve years. Jungkook was real, his laugh and everything else you loved about him were all so incredibly real. And more importantly, the pure joy you felt was real; a permanent serialization of his. Your smiles and his smiles had always surfaced in tandem.

Now, you both were laughing. Neither were warranted by his messy attempt at forming a coherent sentence. The weight of discomfort shedding from your shoulders had been partnered with a slew of relieved chuckles.

“Anyway, um. I- I still wanna see you on our Friendiversary. Or, at least give you your gift.” Admitting that was terrifying but the thought of breaking the consecutive streak of eleven years simply because he was too much of a coward to admit he wanted to see you dizzied him. However, the thought of spending your friendiversary alone terrified him beyond comprehension. So, he thought not about that as a possibility; he carved an opening to his heart in hope you wouldn’t send sharp thorns of rejection into it.

“Yeah, I, uh. I still wanna see you too. I mean, it is a national holiday. We gotta have holiday spirit, right?” You were forcing playful banter, it felt like lemon juice scouring cuts on your tongue, but you were so desperate to make things between you two feel normal.

“You’re right! So, um… You can come over tomorrow night. I’ll set up a surprise or whatever.” He seemed to have fallen back into stride with pre-confession Jungkook. Trying to keep up with him now would just exhaust you of all your means, so you chose to save the rest for tomorrow night. Even if that meant watching him walk away to some unforeseeable finish line; his back, the last part of him you’d see until you could finally collect your broken pieces and start walking as well.

“Sounds good! I’ll, um, see you then.”

“See you, ___.”

You had no idea, and how could you, that Jungkook was now wiping small clusters of wetness from the bed of his eyelids. Why he thought you, the one person that remained a constant in his life, would say no to him over one fight (of many) made for quite the spill of tears. But if you did know, you would have told him you felt like crying too.

"Hey! How did everything go?" You were so immersed in your virtual conversation with Jungkook you nearly forgot the person you were presently with. The train of guilt wouldn't stop for your pathetic attempts at disembarking.

"Oh! Thanks for the coffee." You sipped, and it had just been a stall to blink away the tears that were straying beyond your will of concealment. "It went good. We're still celebrating our Friendiversary."

"Friendiversary?" Seokjin's light chuckle veiled his tense concern.

"Yeah... Uh, it's just this thing we do to celebrate our friendship. The day we met."

"Oh... that's..." His eyes were scaling the rim of his mug.

"That's what, Seokjin?" You were stern, knowing well enough it was born of far more than platonic defensiveness. And you had no right to be the one prosecuting him since you clearly had more to hide than meets the eye.

"I mean, it's just interesting how dedicated you are to an anniversary with a friend." Seokjin wielded that soft-spoken voice which made it difficult to be anything but patient with him. And from the tone of it, he seemed to have no ill intentions with that statement, though it had not been an entirely innocent observation. To you, however, it felt like he might as well have set you on fire.

"Interesting? What is that supposed to even mean? I mean, we've been friends for twelve years. I- I don't know why people are always so judgmental." Your arms crossed over your chest, hoping he would take notice how much his comment slighted you. If asked, you would have insisted you would have been this worked up over any of your friends. Though you knew well enough this was untrue, and it made you feel even worse acting as though Seokjin was the one at fault here.

"I'm sorry. I'm not judging you, really. I just... I just have never heard of two friends doing something like that so religiously."

You sighed out all your anger, knowing the way you snapped at him was merely misdirected frustration. "No, I'm sorry. I know it's kinda weird."

"Look, I get it. You guys are close. But, ___, you talk about him so much that half, no, over half of your stories include him. We've been dating for, what, barely a week now, and I know more about this Jungkook guy than I know about you, and I haven't even met him."

Lips parted, ready to dispatch another slew of defenses to refute all the things he said. It was more disappointing than it was shocking to find nothing but a long sigh emerging. Because he was right. Jungkook has been interwoven so thoroughly in your last twelve years that if you only told the stories without him in it, then it would be the least accurate and nondescript retelling of your life. Fragments of an unfinished novel. It would miss the most crucial pieces, entire chapters, of your story.

You would have been presenting a shell of you, hollow and one dimensional. All the inner parts of you, the lungs and veins and tissue that gave you life and made you whole belonged solely with Jungkook.

That's why you sat there, blank faced, foolishly waiting for the words that wouldn't come to your aid because you had no place to contend with him.

"Seokjin... I'm with you..." It's all that would come up your throat, and it felt like acid. You were sure it burned his ears when he heard them more than it had your throat.

It hadn’t even been partially true. Physically you were with him, but in your head you were sitting on your couch with Jungkook, consuming a concerning amount of junk food while chatting through a movie used more as background noise than entertainment.

"Okay. Does that mean you don't have feelings for him?"

"Well..."

"Can you confidently say you could replace all the time you spend with him with time you would spend with me?" Seokjin must have noticed your returning tears because he loosened his verbal grip from your throat. To you, it sounded like he was pacifying you for some horrible sin, to anyone else it sounded as though he was simply trying to dredge up feelings that would disrupt the chance of a relationship between you and him. "___, I like you. I really do, but in all honesty, I'm looking for something serious. I think we would be great together, but only if you don't have any feelings left for him."

"Seokjin..." You regretted looking at him.

Sweetness was strewn in his eyes and gentle smile. Seokjin was softer than cotton, which made the real threat, the rough sandpaper wearing away skin and bones, you. It made it all the more painful to know you had been keeping everything you felt for Jungkook hidden from Seokjin. Though, if one would have presented an objective point of view, your feelings were far from secretive. And the most brutal honesty was that you knew feelings for Seokjin were never in your attainability. Not the way they always had been for Jungkook.

He was the wrong person who crossed paths with you at the right moment. A mere convenience. And you knew he deserved much more than what you had to offer.

"And maybe I'm being an idiot, but I like you too much to give you some ultimatum which would put you in such an unfair position. So, I'll let you think this over." His compassion felt more like a sharp blow to your chest. “No pressure.”

If he hadn’t smiled like he did, then you would have broken up with him right then and there. It was not possible to rip away such tender hope away from a smile so sweet.

"I'm sorry." You meant the remorse behind those words and it still hadn’t amounted to a proper consolation. "I'm sorry. I guess... I guess I'll go... Seokjin?”

“Yes?” He replied quickly, and you knew only a pace that rapid was one brought on by a sliver of faith that you might have made your decision right then.

“You’re a really great person. You deserve the world.”

Unfortunately, you couldn’t give him what he wanted. And as bitter and unkind as that might have felt at the moment, it was the only bit of truth and relent you could have offered him.

-----

In your bed, sleep became somewhat of an abstract desire. You knew your rest was deprived from you when the digital clock on your bedside told you it was six hours past the time you'd normally fall asleep. It was because you really did have a choice to make now.

To choose Seokjin, and know you'd collapse in the safety of his reciprocated affection, though haunted by how you would never feel the fullest extent of content. And you would live with that until resentment and distance wedged irreversible damage in your relationship.

Or, to choose Jungkook, which would catapult you into a depth so dark and tenuous that you would have no idea whether you'd meet gentle snow or hard, deadly concrete when you landed. And maybe you'd never land at all; maybe you would be caught in a state of falling down and down forever, until your beating heart eventually stilled.

Which one was worth it? Which were you willing to risk? These were the questions that kept you awake.

The hours leading to your undisclosed celebration events with Jungkook ceased being actual points of your existence and merely obstructions that you had to plow through in order to arrive at some conclusive moment. Something that might give you an answer to all your questions. Something that might have released you from devotedly checking your phone for a Jungkook patented text or call.

You were turning into a half-being. Someone who could only inhale a full breath, laugh an intentional laugh, and sleep a soundless sleep when their other half was there.

If you thought being in love with Jungkook for your entire friendship was pathetic, then you couldn’t fathom what you had become now.

Standing in front of his door, the same one you lugged him to that night he was too drunk to balance on his feet, when you willingly carried all the weight he couldn’t, when your lips became acquainted and comfortable with his within half a beat, you felt as if this chunk of wood was mocking you. A partition barricading you from Jungkook. Your Jungkook. The man you always felt you were on the outskirts of, with only a window to peer into his unreadable mind. And that was enough for you ―until now.

Now you were going to knock on that door with your hand, make him open it for you, and walk into his home. You would be the one to step foot inside of the very structure that only solicited closed doors and immovable walls and fogged windows. And you would leave behind your timidity, every feeling and urge that left you with disappointing compromises for the sake of maintaining this friendship.

You would be selfish, and he would finally feel a mere glimpse of what you have always felt for the best and worst of your life.

Even when he opened the door, arming a smile that actively disarmed you, this home of his was yours to conquer. This was your time to act for you alone, despite how many smiles he sent your way. You had not any weapons or shields or an infantry for a clutch. You just had your heart and all the love it carried.

“Hey! ___, you look… You look great.” There was no real incentive for him to censor how he truly thought you looked. Immeasurably beautiful. It was simply his own nerves impeding on the feelings that were too intense to express without it being followed by an entire soliloquy of I love you’s.

“Thanks... You too...” You could almost feel the words brimming in your and Jungkook’s mouth, carrying such raw emotions and longing intentions.

"I'm really glad that- Jungkook..." Walking into his house punctuated what you were about to say.

His living room was strewn with enough candles to steal the last of your words and to consider his house a fire hazard. That didn't negate this lovely sea of lights to be anything but romantic and thoughtful. A bit cluttered, and not at all perfect, but it must have taken Jungkook hours to set up every wax column. The thoughtfulness of this gesture would have astonished you had it not been for the consistency of Jungkook snatching your breath and words away whenever he tried. It was antithetical, the way you expected his surprises. Yet, always surprised all the same.

Unpredictable, completely surrounding you just like the rain.

"I had to turn off my fire detector but... Worth it." Jungkook considered the number of mishaps that could have dampened any chance of this being romantic.

A candle could tip over and set his entire place ablaze, the wax could leak onto his carpet and tabletops, damaging his furniture and savings for replacements, you and he could have suffocated from all the fumes steaming from the wick. But if that look on your face didn't feel like the only bit of revival to keep his heart's steady beating, if your eyes didn’t look as though it was the only set of eyes that shed beauty into this world then he wouldn't have used up exactly three lighters to pull this stunt. But it did, and he felt warmth and color return to every inch of his body.

He would have used hundreds of lighters to ignite thousands of candles if that meant an ounce of happiness from you. He wanted to say that, but he knew the candles said it for him.

The spectacle almost made you forget why you were here in the first place. It almost made you forget the resolve you managed to gather before entering. And then he said your name.

"___."

The letters flowing from his lips as if they could only be pronounced by his tongue. It sounded so good. So good, that if anyone else were to say it then it wouldn't have been your name at all. It would have sounded wrong, sullied. And it wasn't supplied by neat articulation, this new belonging of your name in his mouth. The need for him to sculpt your name into this world was more than that. "I will never forgive myself if I don't get this out while I still can."

"Jungkook, what is all this?" You didn't know why you felt a collection of tears brimming along your eyes, but you didn't care to figure it out. Perhaps you felt an influx of feelings, an abundance too heavy for your body to seal within the confines of your emotional seams, so they overflowed in the form of tears. This certainly had not been the first time you cried over Jungkook, but you had never cried over him like this.

"___, I love you!" Jungkook said loudly. It was just you and him who could hear, but it felt as though he wanted the entire world to know.

"What? I- You- What?" Your lack of verbal poise was indicative of your love for him once again taking the reins of your mind and heart. Words were a luxury you couldn't afford as of now. You just had to feel everything you were feeling until the rainstorm settled. The hope that he would spare you some remnants of fluency was far along, and you weren't too sure if what Jungkook was about to say would be gentle enough to leave you with any words at all.

"I love you. I don't know why I didn't know it sooner. Or maybe, I- Maybe I did know?" Jungkook sighed at his own ineloquence. "I'm stupid! That's it. That's my only excuse. I'm so stupid. The way I felt about you, the way I still feel about you, is something I thought all best friends had. I thought everyone felt like the moments they weren't spending with their best friends just felt like filler moments. Like, every day I spent without you was just a span of time I had to wait out until I see you again. Like every damn moment of my life is spent waiting for you. And if I don't end up with you then... then I'll never stop waiting."

"Jungkook, I-" He prevailed in surprising you, taking words and breath and thoughts all at once.

"And, I'm that stupid! I really thought all best friends had those moments when they stare at you, and- and-" Now, you weren't the only one with wet eyes and cheeks. "And I just feel like looking at you and being with you just makes me better. It makes me a better person, or something, and it makes me feel like... Like I'll never get hurt again. And even if I do get hurt, I know it's you I want to be there. I know that whenever something bad happens to you, or when you feel like crying or when you're happy or angry or anything that I want to be the one who gets to be by your side. When I look at you, all I want is to love you. To love all your pain away."

"You really mean that?"

"Yes! God, I love you." You didn't notice how it happened, but Jungkook's arms became a shield around you. Inside his arms you were indestructible. Your hands pressed against his cheeks, memorizing the plush, smooth skin. The world could hurl all the fire and ice it had, but it wouldn’t matter. "___, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry it took me so long to figure it out. I'm sorry that in that period, I hurt you. Please, forgive me. I love you, and I want to be with you."

"Of course, I forgive you. I... I can't believe this." Hearing everything you always wanted from him was drastically different when it was actually unfolding. It was a million times more than any hope or dream you used as a salve for your longing. It was everything.

"Maybe it took so long because I was afraid. Because the idea of loving you was something I wasn't ready for. Even though I did love you, God, who was I to take on something as fragile and crucial as loving you. I know I probably would have messed it up. And, fuck, maybe I'm messing it up right now. But I just needed it to be perfect. I needed loving you to be perfect because I don't want to give you anything less than that."

"You were always enough for me, Jungkook. More than enough. You were and are everything to me" His arms that pressed you further into him expressed how happy that made him.

"But I'm not perfect yet. I might mess up... A lot. No, I'll definitely mess up. I don't know if I can offer you perfect yet. But I do know that through everything I have never stopped loving you and I will never stop loving you."

"Jungkook... I don't know what to say." Your thumb grazed a falling tear from his face. Jungkook had not cried often in front of you; and you could tally up the amount of times he had on your fingers alone. But when he did, it was still as beautiful as when he was smiling or laughing or even scowling.

"You could say you love me back." You did. You loved him, his smile that was currently on a mission to melt your heart, his arms that carried both the good and bad parts of you, his wit that you always relished in. All the reasons to love him were an endless flowing river. If you were lucky enough, you would catch a glimpse of each beautiful current and be able to give name to the gravity that pulled you into him.

"I love you too, you idiot." The last word caught in your throat because your lips were being kissed instead.

His lips. Warm and exciting, allotting your being with an infinite devotion of his. And it was more than you could have ever hoped for.

It felt like fire. Like a grove of candles encapsulating the origin of heat. You and Jungkook, holding each other so close, you could have become one. Hot and all-consuming of anything in its path. If one stood too close, they would suffer scorching embers that stray from the orange pyres. Seokjin, Irene, and any other unassuming casualty that had the misfortune of stepping between the two of you, harboring the burn scars to remind them of what fumed from their interference.

Every element concocting between you and him was that of a bright flame, cremating pure metals and wet woods and thick forests alike.

You were in his home. His arms and lips and hands told you it was your home as well. All that time spent wondering why you could never slip inside before was never because he didn't want to let you in. And the thing is, you never thought to knock until now. You sat outside in a silenced hope that he would voluntarily open that door for you. But unknown to you, Jungkook seemed to be waiting as well. Waiting in a large room with empty spaces where you belonged and where he kept reserved for your residence alone.

He waited even when he wasn't quite sure of who he was waiting for, or if you would ever actually spill your warmth into his home. He waited until his fingers turned to ice and his eyes fell to exhaustion, for you to walk inside.

"So, you're like my boyfriend now?" Your voice brushed against his smiling lips.

"Yeah, your boyfriend, or whatever."

"You know this means you have to top next year's friendiversary. And I mean, all these candles? That's gonna be tough." It could have counted as sensory overload, the feeling of his palms flush against your back, the tip of his nose grazing yours, the bright array of candles illuminating the room. But you were so, incredibly cold without him that this felt like solace to you.

"When have I ever disappointed you?" Jungkook regretted what came out of his mouth too late to stop himself from saying it.

"Oh, I couldn't count the amount of times on my fingers alone! What about that time you forgot our chains for the tires on our trip to the mountains? We almost died." His eye roll only encouraged you to continue. Maybe, if you were lucky, he'd equip that cute pout whenever he wanted his way. "Or what about when you swore you brought water, but three miles in on our hike you had that look on your face. You know I reminded you to get water and you swore you did. Or what about-"

"Okay! I get it! I fuck up, jeez." He scrunched his nose, his eyes waning into crescents courtesy of that grin of his. You counted the number of wrinkles along the bridge of his nose as you always did, though you had acquired an expertise in the geography of his face. Each line and angle and ridge were now and eternally yours to restudy and marvel. "Hey, uh, almost forgot."

He reached into his front left pocket. "I, um, kept carrying it around thinking I'd see you somewhere. Kinda dumb right?"

"Not dumb." You opened the tiny box, wound the handle until the spring felt tight and you could see the throngs prick the textured wheel, and it was one of those moments where you didn't see a gift in your hand. You simply saw his thought and sentiment manifested as a box of wood that sung a tune.

All the things Jungkook wanted to give you, the sun and the moon and the entire universe were not his to give. So for now, he settled for this music box and there would be a day when he would collect each celestial being and place them right into your hands. Maybe then, he would feel less of a debt for possessing such a love like yours.

"This is... I love it. Thank you, Jungkook." You smiled, but it was motivated in the hopes he would smile back. You thought he deserved that much, at least. And he did.

"Sooooo... Can I tell Seokjin that you're actually in love with me and that he sucks ba-"

"Um, absolutely not!" As always, his crudeness and slight inability to remain mature for too long only wedged you deeper in love.

So, terribly in love. Your state of constant craving for Jeon Jungkook had been left barren. That desolate, solitary province was no longer yours to take residence in.

You had a home now. And you had no need to crave Jungkook anymore. He was right here, holding you.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

a/n: okay, cry with me.... these two.... such hopeless saps for each other i'm here for it. final destination is simp city... also (spoiler) it is completely canon that irene and seokjin bond over their mutual heartbreaks and get to smitten hehehe. anyway, my loves i hope you enjoyed this finale as much as i enjoyed writing it!!! it was a short but heartfelt journey with these two and i will miss their idiocy sm. thank u for your endless support i love u all!!! <3

#bangtanarmynet #ficswithluv #btsgoldnet #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts angst #bts fluff #bts writing #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook bestfriend!au #jungkook angst #bts series #jungkook bestfriendstolovers!au #jungkook series #constant craving #rubycoast

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yzkhr · 3 years

Text

Love Language miniseries for Shinran!

I dedicate this corny and cringe worthy miniseries to @meitanteisachi for giving me inspiration through her gifset and her wonderful fanfictions.

Acts of Service- a language that can best be described as doing something for your partner that you know they would like, such as filling up their gas, watering their plants, or cooking them a meal.

"Not sick, huh?"

Shinichi glared as Ran leaned back from the table, unamused. He was working on a difficult case in their—now only his— mansion, when she showed up unannounced after he forgot to attend school. He was wearing his school uniform but lost sense of time being too absorbed at the new case Inspector Megure gave him.

"I told you I'm fine." he avoided her scrutinizing gaze, being stubborn. Ran wouldn't have any of it however, bringing her left hand to her waist like a stressed mother.

"Fine? You're burning hot and your face is even redder than a traffic light!" she argued and his face produced an even darker shade, acknowledged.

He wanted to protest and retaliate how can it not be when she literally put her face in front of his without any sort of warning, brushing his unruly bangs upwards with her soft hand and letting their foreheads touch as he froze while she remained unbothered.

The detective restrained himself however, not wanting any further embarrassment to occur.

He heard a sigh from Ran, forcing him to turn around. She was now arranging the stack of messy papers and documents, bringing them to side.

"Oi, what are you doing?" he frowned as he stood up from the swivel chair and held Ran's hand to stop her. It didn't go unnoticed how Shinichi flinched at the coldness of her skin.

Ran eyed their physical contact before giving him a stern gaze.

"I'm fixing all of these so you can rest. You won't be touching files until your fever's gone." she effortlessly shook his hand away, continuing.

"Ran, I told you I'm fine. I have to end this case cause if I don't---"

"Then you can let Megure-keibu and the other officers to handle it until you're well again." she was consistent at putting all the paperwork aside, not even sparing a glance.

"I told you I'm fine didn't I? It's just a fever."

Finally done with her task, Ran faced him with an expression that resembled his mother way too much for his own comfort.

"You're not fine. You have a horrible fever and along with it is a terrible headache. You didn't actually expect to read all of these with those blurry eyes of yours, did you?"

She squinted, gesturing at more than fifty papers on the side. He opened his mouth to deny her claims but retreated seeing her eyes squint even more, as if challenging him to lie. Ran was right. He'd been trying to ignore the throbbing of his head and the haze in his vision while reading through the entire case.

He sighed as his misty eyes finally having the time to observe her. She was still wearing their uniform, which means she went here as soon as classes were over. He suddenly remembered an important thing.

"Wait, don't you have an upcoming Karate competition? You have training everyday after school right?" he smirked internally, finding out a plot hole.

But instead of seeing a look of panic and rushing out the of the doorway like Shinichi expected her to do, Ran simply grabbed his hand towards the door making his cheeks turn red out of surprise and something he would never dare name of.

"I'll just skip it for today. Besides, I have something more important to take care of." she squeezed his warm hand, hinting what—or who— important thing she meant.

Blushing even more at the implication certainly did not make his illness any better.

After a few stumble here and there, they finally got to the bedroom in one piece. Minutes seemed like an eternity, with his headache feeling like he was being hammered. He was freezing and sweating at the same time not knowing if he should undress or add more layers. It was good thing that Ran immediately slumped Shinichi down the bed, and started removing his blazer.

Wait, what?

"Umm..." he spoke weakly, but still complying and accepting her help. He thought that she was done but she suddenly kneeled in front of him and leaned in, making Shinichi hyper aware of everything around him. Her hands went straight to his uniform which he did not predict. She was now untying his neck tie, making their faces inches apart. She was so close that he could feel her breathing at the open part of his longsleeve. Despite his mind telling him not to, Shinichi's eyes went directly to her face, which seemed too focused at her task, with her slightly furrowed eyebrows and violet orbs concentrated at undoing the knots. He would never admit it, but Ran looked too innocent and pure that it was killing him.

It didn't help that her scent was literally intoxicating him. A combination of honey and lemon, Shinichi noticed. Flustered and a bit shameful, he looked up,having butterflies in his stomach with his childhood friends' soft and nimble hands slowly removing the fabric from his neck.

He jolted awake when she begins unbuttoning his polo however. On instinct, Shinichi took a hold of her hands before they can go further. Shocked and confused, Ran looked up.

"I," he breathed heavily. "I think I can do this myself, Ran."

As if broken by a spell. Her face instantaneously turned crimson red at the realization that Shinichi might have thought she was the one with the fever. She stood up straight away, turning around and making a beeline to the door. She had been uptight all day that he was a bit glad the usual Ran came back.

He wanted to laugh at her reaction but was too tired to do so. Even slightly moving drained him, but it didn't mean he wasn't capable of undressing himself.

"I-I'm sorry! I got lost in my thoughts! I'm going downstairs!" she squeaked and left in an instant, closing the door with a loud thud.

Now alone, Shinichi struggled to move his shaking hands to undo the buttons. After a few more attempts, he was finally able to fully strip and drag himself to the closet. Nauseated and feeling like the world weighed on his shoulders, he randomly put on a white pajama and went straight to his bed, curling a bit like a kitten. His eyelids getting heavier and heavier, Shinichi closed his eyes, immediately falling asleep.

"Shinichi? Shinichi?"

Hearing a faint voice from behind, Shinichi turned around languidly and opened his eyes, meeting a concerned Ran.

"Hmm?" he hummed, still sleep deprived.

She brought up a steaming hot bowl of food, smiling.

"I cooked you chicken soup. Sit up, you have to eat." she ordered gently.

Despite feeling pain all over his body, he obeyed, knowing that he needed energy. Sitting up groggily, Shinichi faced his caretaker.

Ran sat beside the empty space of his bed, chicken soup in her hand. He frowned at the sight of the food.

"You still cooked my favorite style? Even though you know I won't be able to taste it anyway?" she shrugged as a response, bringing a spoonful near her and blowing weakly.

"Well, you might not be able to taste it but your stomach will surely enjoy it, so why not?" something in his chest swelled after hearing such words. Still, he kept it to himself.

After a few more blows, Ran brought the spoon near his mouth, gesturing for him to eat it. Face flushing and coughing slightly, Shinichi took a bite at the soup. Albeit tasteless, he couldn't help but smile mildy, knowing the effort put in.

Ran laughed a little looking at him as well, but said nothing and continued feeding him.

After five minutes or so, the bowl was finally empty. She told him that he could have just ate half but Shinichi argued that he was hungry(he really wasn't but he would never stand having a food Ran cooked for him go to waste but he'll die before she even find that out).

He was now inclining back to the comfort of his own bed when Ran spoke.

"Seriously, don't overwork yourself Shinichi." she berated, masking her worry with exaggeration as she arranged the plate and the soup, slowly making her way outside.

"I wasn't, I just got a little busy that's all." her saw how Ran rolled her eyes at his excuse as she replied.

"A little busy? You rarely get sick. I was so close to believing you were invincible to fevers." he scoffed at her remark, being defeated with yet another fact. Maybe the pain he felt was a lot worse than he expected.

"Look, I'm glad that you're trying to save as many people as you can but you also can't forget about yourself." he winced at the obvious disappointment and seriousness of her scolding. Instead of meeting her gaze that bore holes into him, he averted his stare into the lamp.

"I'm fine."

"No you're not. And besides, if you don't take care of you, think of all the people that will need you but won't have you." he stayed quiet, getting her point. Shinichi knew it was irrational being stubborn and pushing himself to the limits but he just couldn't help it. He may be a cocky bastard as a lot of people call him, but he wasn't someone that can stand not being able to help when he clearly can.

He sighed, giving in.

"Fine. I promise I'll take better care of myself." his answer seemed to satisfy Ran as she smiled contently.

"Good." as he heard the creaking of the doorframe, Shinichi instinctively flipped his head towards the sound.

"You're leaving?"

He didn't know why, but an infallible amount of upset coursed through him at the thought of Ran leaving. She paused by the door and looked back, inclining her head to the side.

"You want me to stay?" she teased in a light-hearted manner, making Shinichi's cheeks flushed.

"N-no, just wondering.." he played it cool by keeping his voice even, now being reminded how pathetic he must have sounded like asking her if she was leaving.

"I'll stay. After all, someone has to make sure a certain mystery otaku doesn't go back to the library just because he's feeling a little better."

He glared at her jesting and turned to the other side, lying down.

"Barou, it's not like I can do that with my entire body in pain."

Ran laughed, knowing she annoyed him enough.

"Then that's more reason for me to stay right?"

Before he can even think of a reply, she already closed the door and all Shinichi could hear were the sound of her shoes walking downstairs and the erratical beating of his heart he hoped was a side effect of the fever and not..... entirely something else.

#Shinran #1/5 #Fluff #Sickfic #detective conan

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tkc-info · 3 years

Text

Nuan (Morgan) Hao

Morgan waved them inside. Her room was coloured in elegant greens, and she looked out of place with her black clothes, tattooed body and half-buzzed hair.

She was standing in the middle of the room, barefoot, but when they came in she went to sit on a desk chair, one foot up on the seat.

"How can I help you?" she said as she looked at them.

"We may have information that could help you."

Morgan Hao is a main character in both The Stolen Child and The Kinship Chronicles.

Firstborn to Lei Hao and Xuegang Yang, Morgan forces herself into a role of authority when her mother is murdered and her father falls ill shortly after.

Even if she wasn't always as proficient --nor comfortable-- in the use of her insignia as she currently is, Morgan is viewed all across Mirror as her father's rightful successor as leader of the Wraith Emblem.

Difficult as it may be, Morgan accepts this as yet another responsibility that reminds her of the fragility of her dear family structure. Because if Xuegang Yang and his children were able to move on (as much as could be expected) after Lei Hao's murder, it is in great part because of Morgan.

She is the one who helps her father in his work, she is the one who attends to Hunter and their little sister Min's education, she is the one who reminds the whole of Mirror that her family isn't cursed. No matter how difficult the situation is, Morgan is always there, as her family's guardian angel.

However when Min disappears, Morgan will have to put twice as much effort to keep her family from breaking.

In spite of the trust-inducing demeanor she presents, Morgan looks like someone humans Aboveground wouldn't want to mess up with.

Like her younger brother, her body's grown fit from extensive training, but that's the least characteristic thing to her. Her half-buzzed black hair, pale skin (from hardly ever leaving Mirror), black military-like clothing, and visible tattoos are by far the most striking things about her. At least physically-wise.

Morgan has to be serious; she has to be responsible and motherly towards her siblings. Yet that doesn't keep her from enjoying her life; dating around, partying with her best friend, becoming a fan of questionable bands... And of course, engaging in hobbies that most would consider 'reckless and begging to die' (not that Hunter has ever told that to his sister).

Morgan's bisexual.

She's a wraith (learn more about wraiths)

She was born the 15th of July of 2001 in Mirror Shanghai

When her brother adopted the nickname Shuren, she also got a non-Chinese surname at his behest

She chose the name Morgan for two reasons: she liked that it was a unisex name, its a name related to the sea --which her mother was fond of

Morgan is very tall (1'78m/5'8")

As of The Stolen Child, Morgan has three tattoos

Her first tattoo is a Chinese proverb '因噎废食' inscribed along her left forearm. It roughly translates to 'one cannot refuse to eat just because there is a chance of being choked'

Her second tattoo covers the front of her right hand in the form of a skeleton's hand

Her third tattoo covers her back on the form of a spinal column

Morgan has an industrial piercing on her right ear, where her head is shaved

She always wears a worn bisexual pride bracelet she twists when she's nervous

The bi pride flag in her bedroom was gifted to her by Hunter when she came out at fourteen

Morgan calls Hunter Xiǎo Gǔ (see Hunter's page), Lil' Bro and Dear Lil' Bro; she calls Min Xiǎo È Mó (little demon)

She's biethnic. Her father is Bai and her mother is Han (see Hunter's page's notes for additional information)

She speaks Mandarin, Bai, Sazla and English with a slight accent

Morgan likes to do dangerous tricks with her cars and motorbikes

Along the years, she's secured herself a whole section of her house. She's the only one allowed to enter to those rooms

She's dated one of Oliver's cousins

She's horrible at mathematics and getting along with her maths teachers; she once punched him

Morgan is a teetotaler

Morgan doesn't like spicy food; thus, she doesn't enjoy most dishes from Yunnan

Her favourite food is chāshā bāo

She likes sweet food

She can't cook

Morgan enjoys listening to death metal, black metal, and the likes

Hunter complains about her taste in music; she complains about his taste in films

Her favourite song is The Spawn Of A Dying Kind by the Norwegian band Obliteration; which is also her favourite band (playlist)

Introduction to The Kinship Chronicles's characters: 7/8

Cal Everitt

Oliver Whitaker

Diana Zubairu

Selvar Zandstra

Atalanta Everitt-Melton

Hunter Hao

Caleb Verninac

#the kinship chronicles #the stolen child characters #morgan hao #SoundCloud

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silverypurple-rosedlions · 4 years

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🥀𝓗𝓪𝓹𝓹𝔂 𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓪𝓷 𝓓𝓪𝔂🥀

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First off, The Purple Rose would like to wish all Jeonghan's a Happy Jeonghan Day! Have a fantastic day as we celebrate another spectacular birthday in honor of you! Eat well, and have a wonderful day!

Specially to: @seventeen-chatbot , @vampireprince-jeonghan , @vampire-jeonghan , and more lovely Jeonghans~

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𝓣𝓸 𝓞𝓾𝓻 𝓑𝓮𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓭 𝓛𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

And so the day comes where we celebrate the day our leader, Yoon Jeonghan, was born. Words cannot be enough to describe a man like you, you who suffered the worst throughout his life, but decided to use what had ruined you, into creating something unlike any other that would shake the world.

You aren't perfect, and that's alright. No one is perfect, and not once should you have bore the heavy weight of becoming what others expected you to become: a perfect man, once who is successful and strong, but one who was tormented with a person you didn't want to become. But despite the agonizing trials you faced over and over again, facing the fears you once had, you become stronger and a person that you wanted to become. You climbed the horrendous mountain, reaching to the top.

You changed the game, and you brought with you those who were also tormented. You showed them, us, that we still had a chance to continue within a society that had wronged each and every one of us. No matter the gruesome and frowned upon actions we committed that is forgiveable, you ensured that all would not fall. No matter who you became, enforcing harsh discipline and training, giving criticism that would benefit the person, you did it for them. For us.

So today, we dedicate the entire day to celebrate and thank you for being here today, although you had the choice to end it. You didn't, and we're proud of you, and proud that you're the leader that'll lead us through it all. May you always be remembered for your sacrificed and suffering that led you to something more, always healthy as you possibly can, and happy.

Happy Jeonghan Day. Happy Birthday, Yoon Jeonghan, the man who saved those who suffer from illnesses, giving them a better life as much as possible. - 🥀

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🖤| Joshua: My Hannie, happy birthday yet again! My handsome, psychotic, but loveable and strong boyfriend through thickest and thin, I love you. I'm happy that you agreed to take an entire day off and join all the members in celebration! It always makes us happy to see that brilliant, white smile of yours when it becomes rare to see a genuine smile when altogether. Always know that we're here for you, always beside you through it all. And our baby wishes you the happiest of birthday too! And they can't wait to see their fearless daddy~

💖| Jun: Jeonghannie hyung! Happy Birthday! It means the world to us that you're here with us, and I'm so thankful to have met you. Although things turned out this way, for better or worse, you helped me throughout my life when I was struggling the most. You were someone I can rely on who understood me more than anyone else. And know that I'll always be here for you to rely on too! We love you so much, hyung! Happy happy birthday! [Message was prepared in advance, scheduled to be posted today]

❤️| Wonwoo: And so today is the day we celebrate your day, Jeonghan hyung. Thank you for being there for each and every one of us, putting us first before anything else. If it weren't for you, for finding me that day and always coming back again and again, listening to me and helping me, I wouldn't be here with everyone; breathing. I'm proud to call you my leader, my closest friend, and most importantly, my older brother. Happy birthday

💜| Jihoon: Happy birthday, Jeonghan hyung. I know we've had our moments of disagreement, and we hadn't started off on the right foot when we first met. But you still did your best to reach out to me and help me, giving me an opportunity to do more than what I was told I could do. You succeeded. And you sure as hell faced the craziest shit and still came back stronger than ever. Don't forget that we're here too. Let us help you and carry the heavy work and responsibilities you've carried for years. It's our turn to return your kindness, though it's blunt. Happy birthday, Jeonghan hyung.

💚| Minghao: Happy birthday, you manic! But, really. Thank you for everything you've done for us, all of us. Although you scare the living shit out of us, we understand your reasoning, and we're thankful that you still manage to handle our shenanigans. Thank you for helping all of us, always being supportive, strict when needed, and loving in your own way. Thank you for still being here today, hyung. Thank you for helping me when I struggled. And now, I'll help you during your struggles, just like I always do.

🧡| Mingyu: Happy Birthday Yoon Jeonghan, my hyung. I know between us, we've had it the roughest. We both made mistakes, especially me that risked us both. And yet, even when you were disgusted and more than outraged with me, you found it in yourself to spare me and give me another chance. You didn't have to, yet you did, and I'm thankful for that. I'm thankful for everything you have done for The Purple Rose, no matter how much it affected you personally. Just like I promised, I promise to always be here for you, working along side you and the members, and to be here as your younger sibling to support you through it all. Happy Jeonghan Day, hyung.

💙| Happy, happy, happy birthday Jeonghan hyung! My bro! For so many years, we've been together and I intend for it to stay that way. You've always been the strongest, even when you suffered greatly and nearly caved in. But you still fought and now, here you are! You absolutely mean so much to me after you talked to me that day in Physical Fitness, accepting me and taking care of me when I always got myself into trouble from then on until now. I'm happy for you, now that you'll be a father in due time, and still balance The Purple Rose. Always know that you've got us forever and always. Love you hyung! Happy Jeonghan Day!

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💕// @ghoulxbaekhyun (Seok's love) @/seventeen-chatbot Wonwoo (Jun's love)

Closest friends// @empress-jiaqi @kpop-shelter @yourlocal-babybear @yourlocal-babybear2 @julia-oc @shinhaneul-oc

💎// @singledad-coups @minghaostitch @decade-wonwoo @xdevilmingyuxx @adonis-jeonghan @princexjunhui @leejihoon-cb @van-gogh-minghao

🥀// @aikihades @sophie-svt-13 @waitingwhispers60 @yangomangos @m00n-nim96 @moonlit-jaemin @time-for-confession @xash-axx @vampiremomo @mafia-chaeyoung @split-jiu @artsydahyun @princess-yeji @werewolf-sehun @incubuswooyoung @twiceland-saga @amazingspiderhan @mafia-choa @la-soleilmafia-cb @mafia-arin @floristluda [DM for +/-]

#happy birthday #happy jeonghan day #insane!seokmin #insane!minghao #insane!jeonghan #insane!jun #insane!joshua #insane!jihoon #insane!wonwoo #insane!mingyu #the purple rose #our beloved leader

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talesofsonicasura · 4 years

Text

Stand Needed

Snatcher and Moonjumper contract a nasty undead illness. Luckily, Hat Kid knows someone who could help in exchange for a price. Too bad it's another weirdo on a whole other level.

Every creature can get sick. Dogs can contract illnesses, cats can get sick, rats can carry sickness and humans get sick from small colds or deadly diseases. Though no one ever thought the undead could contract an illness but it is possible especially for soul-devouring species.

There is an illness that can disturb the magic energy of powerful spirits, particularly those whose power grew greatly by consuming the life force of innocence more than the damned or vice versa. This causes their magic to malfunction, spells to fail or backfire, and if not treated in time that spirit in question will become stone.

The Subcon Forest, a dark and mysterious biological creature born from the ghostly energy that soaks deep in the soil. A fallen kingdom that's entire population was devastated in a single day by deadly frost and then revitalized into this maze of trees by powerful ghostly fire. Magic flows throughout the forest, haunted noose that come alive to snatch their victims, cherries that became crystalized then exploded when introduced to ghostly energies, swamps that drag treaders into the deep abyss and even bells that affect the spiritual plane.

Two types of inhabitants make this dead land their home under the laws of their ruler. Dwellers, spirits that are tied to the world by the masks they wear and capable of revealing the spiritual plane to others. And then there are the Subconites, dwellers whose spirits are given physical form through puppet bodies so they can interact with the world.

Both under the rule of the Snatcher, a powerful ghost that haunted the land. Trespassers he caught are forced to sign magical contracts with their souls as the price. All but one had made it out with their soul not getting devoured and bodies dumped like garbage. Another spirit did dwell within this ghostly forest and commanded the Dwellers that didn't want to be involved with the ghostly ruler.

This spirit known as Moonjumper also was a soul stealing entity that was at odds with the Snatcher. Clashes between both spirits were given and often depleted their magic to the point souls were required to replenish them. Snatcher fed on ones that belonged mostly to the innocent since they trespassed on his land more often and Moonjumper took those who were destined for hell as they fled to his part of the forest after performing dastardly deeds.

And this is where their problem all started. In a large tree lined with giant mushrooms and carved into with a jack o lantern was the dwelling for a particular specter. The Snatcher, a ghost around 20 ft long in size with a body similar to a serpent but covered completely in a mane of dark purple fur, a thick curly tip mane followed by glowing yellow eyes and mouth often found on a child's jack o' lantern with two fangs and spindly arms with two clawed fingers.

The spirit had a book in hand that's cover read 'Ghostly Magic and Illnesses' with eyes narrowed in annoyance and frowning in distaste. His powers had been acting finicky as late as last night. His warping magic left him in the wrong location than what he wanted, hands burst into flame without reason but the biggest sign was one of his contracts. The paper looked dead than it's pristine yellow cut.

Thus he delayed any new contracts and halted his duties to immediately find what was going on with his powers. A magical sickness wasn't what he expected. Especially as one as deadly to him like this. The Chaos Petrification, a sickness that manifests in soul eating entity's who had too much of innocent or damned energy in their appetite.

"...The only cure is the energy from a being with an immense fighting spirit. A soul whose willpower is so powerful that they can bring their inner being to life. By consuming some of this energy, the sick spirit's powers will return to proper balance. These souls are very rare and the illness will take four days to permanently petrify the spirit. What the peck?!" He shut the book with a huff.

"How the peck am I supposed to find a soul with an immense fighting spirit? What does that even mean by willpower that can come to life?!" He exclaimed with his animalistic rough growl mixed alongside the mischievous jovial balanced tone of his voice echoing through the forest. This wasn't something that needed to happen. You can't rule over a forest if you are a stone statue.

"Guess I'm not the only in this same predicament." A much softer male voice with an echo made the Snatcher's frown turn into an annoyed snarl. Turning around to bore holes into the head of the corpse possessing spirit at his home's doorway. The spirit was much smaller than him, around the size of a human man if he was missing his legs.

Their head was a pale blue moon shaped mask flipped on its back, red stripes going down the bottom side of the mouth, two eyes of slightly different sizes with red stripes or star spots in them, the fangs making the mask bear an aura of madness, his spindly body covered in torn remains of a prince attire consisting of a white ascot and red coat but manacles with broken chains around his wrists.

"Moonjumper, how did you get here? Have you forgotten you are banned from this part of my forest?" Snatcher growled whilst looking at this intruder with aggravation. "Trust me, I wouldn't have impeded on your land if it wasn't for good reason. I believe Chaos Petrification being both our problems." Those words were enough for the violet ghost to drop the book an instant.

"You have it too? This is really bad. Magic is the only thing keeping that witch's frost from eating the whole forest. And I really don't want her anywhere near that pecking border." The spirit shivered upon the thought of the ice witch that dwelled in a small section of the forest. All three of them were at odds but neither of the two males hated the other more than the female demon by their borders.

"As much as you hate me, neither of us wants our land to become frozen over with ghostly ice. We need each other to keep her at bay. From what I overheard is that the cure is the energy of a soul with a powerful inner will?" Moonjumper said, picking up the dropped book and opened it back to the page the other specter had it on.

The page in question held a person shaped hieroglyph and multiple wisps around them with a giant wisp at the center. Underneath the image was a scrap of text that seemed unreadable. With a flick of his fingers, red string manifested on that tiny part of the page. It covered the area before they vanished upon burrowing into the pages as restored text that read 'Stand User' in its place.

"Stand User? A bizarre name but much better than nothing. Though it's the first I heard of it." Moonjumper hummed looking at those two words that were the key to their salvation. "Maybe the kid might know. She may be a weirdo but she's a weirdo from space so the Hat Brat might have a clue." As if on signal by the violet ghost, a soft thump was heard by his tree alongside a childish girl saying Tada.

Then walked in a little girl who seemed to be around 8 years old in age, hair a chocolate brown ponytail and bright blue eyes wearing a purple top hat with a gold ribbon, a purple Victorian looking shirt, white pants, black shoes and a violet umbrella decorated in stickers. "Hey Snatcher! And Moonjumper you here too?! Bowie was wondering where you were!" The child who was known as Hat Kid said with honest surprise.

Both ghosts decided to inform the young child about their current predicament. The girl may be young but her actions in the past showed she was a force to be reckoned and a good source of help. After all, no one had ever bested Snatcher in a fight or escaped the manor of the Subcon's Ice Queen alive.

"A Stand User? Don't know what that is but I think my new friend might know!" That caught the attention of the two specters. Hat Kid has a habit of making friends with very interesting individuals. These very people were often useful to Snatcher in particular considering his special contacts known as Death Wishes.

"Really? Who's this new friend of yours and where are they now?" Snatcher questioned nearly getting into the kid's face. "Her name is Jodie Joestar and I met her in Mafia Town! She looked extremely lost and said something about a Stand thingy that took her from her friends! In fact she's waiting on my ship right now since I said you guys might know a way for her to get back!" Hat Kid exclaimed, both ghosts were quite pleased to hear this.

It shouldn't be so hard to ask the woman about it. Though even if the Snatcher wouldn't think or much less admit it, Moonjumper was quite curious on what kind of person was this Jodie Joestar. A question he was glad to ask Hat Kid about on their way to her ship.

"What kind of person Jodie is like? She's quite cool and very nice! Her hair is blue and the surprising thing is that it's completely natural! Jodie also knows some cool tricks I could do with my hat and apparently loves to sing. I plan on asking her if she wants to hang out later and show me these special comics she has called Manga! Oh and she has a lot of siblings, like 7 brothers and one sister! One of her brothers is her twin too!"

Snatcher could only do a small dry cackle in his head. This Jodie sounded like another weirdo. They had to be crazy to stand the little purple hat wearing alien girl known as Hat Kid. Plus having 8 siblings was guaranteed to drive someone up the wall with madness. Then again, might be another soul that could be a new contractor. His forest did need some maintenance that didn't involve the kid.

Hat Kid's spaceship could be described as very colorful and imaginative to anyone who goes inside. Various rooms with bright color carpets, different setups being connected by various sized tunnels which most were crawlspaces to any adult guests, displays with the subjects of each one floating in midair or the massive pile of pillows that could be found in the bedroom.

Each room contains a telescope, a type of transporter that took others to certain parts of the planet that it was locked on to. Funnily, the telescope in her room leads straight to Subcon Forest which was also the same place the trio arrived in. Though they weren't exactly counting on the sound of music above them.

This music sounded very strange. It was like a flute with a higher pitch mixed with the tone of a harmonica and light notes found in an ocarina. The song itself was very soothing despite it's somber tune and all three of them had different thoughts upon it. To Hat Kid, it sounded like something that could be heard from a fairytale. There was this sort of magic to it that you would only find from unexplained wonders.

For Moonjumper, it was very calming to him. It reminded him of whenever he was stargazing, his inner turmoils were quelled and he could feel himself at peace despite his cursed afterlife. And for Snatcher, the tune reminded him of home. Before Subcon had become the haunted forest it was now. Where children were playing, the sun was shining and everything was filled with peaceful life. The time he was truly happy and had a better honest outlook of the world.

They all looked to see the source of that melody on top of the pillow mountain. It was a young woman with slightly long curly blue hair and the music was coming from a leaf she had pressed to her mouth. She appeared to be around 5'10 in height with light peach skin and her body completely covered in a peculiar style of clothing.

It consisted of a black long sleeve kimono to the point that it completely swallowed her arms and legs, a torn sleeveless white long coat with seagreen bottom starting from halfway, a long blue sash like harness around her waist and brown hiking boots. This had to be the girl that Hat Kid was talking about, Jodie Joestar.

From her closed eyes and no reaction to their arrival, it was clear she didn't notice them yet. 'She's quite talented if she can create such music with a simple leaf. And cute…' Moonjumper immediately shoved that last thought in the back of his mind. No ogling a human girl especially one you don't know nothing about.

Jodie opened her eyes and immediately spotted the little girl alongside the two ghostly guests. She then placed the small plant piece in her pocket before sliding down the pillow mountain. "Welcome back Hattie-san! I see you brought guests too! Konnichiwa!" Her voice was light, peppy and had a soft energy to it as she bowed to the two ghosts much to their surprise.

"Konnichi-what? Sorry girlie but I don't speak alien or bow to random strangers." Snatcher snarked but the young woman didn't let it bother her much. "Sorry about that. Konnichiwa means Hello in Japanese and bowing to someone you first meet is a sign of respect from Japan as well." Jodie explained, her voice riddled with modest honesty.

"Quite an interesting custom. Sorry for not introducing ourselves. I am Moonjumper and the large fellow beside me is Snatcher. You must be Jodie Joestar?" The chained ghost's question was met with a small nod. "Correct. Hattie-san said you could be of assistance with my particular situation." That's right, Hat Kid did say she was stranded but how bad could it be?

"It depends on how bad it is and what you can give in return, kiddo. Nothing in this world is free." Snatcher had slithered around her side before his face got up close and personal to the woman with a finger to her face. She merely moved his finger aside much to the specter's surprise. "It's rude to put your fingers in someone's face Snatcher. You wouldn't want someone to do the same to you." And then she booped him on the area where his nose would be if the ghost had one.

Hat Kid giggled and Moonjumper had put his own down seeing the flustered face of Snatcher as Jodie walked over to Hat's bed and sat at the end. He clearly was having trouble processing the fact that some random stranger booped him, Snatcher the Ruler of Subcon, on his face in pure nonchalance. The sound of the kid's laughter and Moonjumper's amused look had him push it to the side as he glared at the two then Jodie.

The bluenette wasn't even a bit fazed as she spoke once more. "To put it simply, this isn't my world. I was sent here by the power of an enemy Stand, I believe he called it 'When They Come For Me'. Stands are the manifestation of a person's fighting spirit and each one is different from the other. They come in many shapes, types and forms. Some are named after the tarot deck and lately music or songs."

It had to be another world. He had to jinx himself. Moonjumper had to resist facepalming for that one. "Stand Users have a habit of attracting other Stand Users and some aren't really nice learning that." The violet ghost decided to butt in. "I guess that means you're a Stand User too since 'Stand Users have a habit of attracting other Stand Users.'" Jodie ignored his snarky interruption with a placid face.

Snatcher really was trying to aggravate her but he wasn't going to be easily satisfied. "Very astute. I am a Stand User but lucky for you is that I'm one of the friendlier and more rational ones. If you would've asked someone else that then they would attack or in a worse case scenario kill you in very gruesome ways. Trust me when I say you don't want to make an enemy of someone who could erase you from existence or turn you into a living bomb with a single touch."

And the peaceful ambient mood immediately shriveled up and died from Jodie's words. 'Erase someone from existence? That peck neck kid could've got us destroyed in an instant if she brought some fool capable of that on board! I may be powerful but I'm not stupid. Though I had to applaud her for killing the mood so quickly.' Snatcher had to reluctantly admit that last bit in his head.

Jodie then continued. "Don't worry though if there are any other nasty Stand Users then I can easily handle them. It's sort of my job to keep the bad nuts under control with my Stand: What's Up Danger!" Almost on cue something large and white had appeared in front of the bluenette causing the two ghosts and child to jump back in surprise.

Standing proudly before then was a white lion/dog hybrid beast with a ragged green and red bowtie on their chest around a good 12 ft in size, a seagreen underbelly alongside horn like ears and sharp bladed claws of that same color, a mouth of oversized monstrous fangs and tusks that looked like something from a horror movie, two eye sockets filled with various colored eyes than just one, dark blue bladed spikes on each side of the back, and a blue tail ending with a plush viper head that had blue bunny ears alongside a stitched mouth.

"That is a big freakish cat. And seriously 'What's Up Danger?' At least some fool knows what they're getting into once that comes out." The beast or What's Up Danger rolled their eyes at the violet specter's snark. "Kitty!" Then Hat Kid just pounced on the large feline with a big hug much to everyone's surprise. Jodie immediately became as flustered as her Stand who clearly was not used to random hugs.

"Hattie-san, you are one of a kind because no one has ever called Danger a kitty and hugged her." The woman couldn't help but chuckle as the feline plucked the child off her leg and settled the little girl on her back with her tail. Moonjumper merely looked at the peculiar creature with a curious gaze. It's not everyday a ghostly demonic feline jumps out of someone.

He then noticed Jodie giving the two ghosts a look that clearly read: 'You can get closer if you want.' Moonjumper came closer with no issue while Snatcher held back a groan and settled with a skeptical look before begrudgingly coming over. Danger merely sat down and watched them making it clear she had no problem with what they did. Especially since Hat Kid was petting her much to the feline's pleasure.

"So you said you were looking for my assistance but for what?" Filling her in on the situation was apparently easier than they expected. "Turning to stone sounds really awful. If you need some of my Stand Energy then take what you need. Danger and I have no problem with it. Right, girl?" A soft mew confirmed the feline's answer to her partner.

"Thank you very much Jodie. You are a 'lifesaver' I believe what people say these days. Please hold out your hand or paw." The duo followed Moonjumper's instruction and pulled out their respective left limb. Snatcher had cautiously taken Jodie's while Moonjumper took Danger's. he vast difference in size was made clear as the violet ghost and feline practically overshadowed their respective partner's hand.

Both females felt a large prick at the center of their being that vanished as fast it came, a flu shot being the closest to compare the feeling. The reactions of the two ghosts were instant once they let go. A large burst of blue flame ignited from Snatcher's hand before manifesting as a pristine gold contract paper with a large bright smile and strings whipped from Moonjumper's in an elegant controlled fashion.

"I'm back in business! Maybe even better than ever since my contracts never had such a perfect pristine look to them." The specter couldn't help but admire the elegant masterful craftsmanship of the calligraphy and detailed fabric/paper of the very item in his claws. "My magic feels much better as well. It has been some time to be able to manipulate my strings like this after escaping the Horizon. You have an incredible spirit Miss Joestar."

Jodie and Danger couldn't help the big smile on their beaming faces at the Moonjumper's praise and the sorta gratitude from Snatcher. "Now to get you home! You know the telescopes on my ship, the ones that I use to travel on different parts of the planet." Hat Kid's inquiry earned a round of nods from the room's occupants.

"I was thinking that we can power up one of the telescopes so it can send you back! And the best ones for the job was Snatcher and Moonjumper." That didn't sound like a bad idea. All of them had seen how the strange objects worked, most of them even used it, they were very accurate on where they warped to and from.

"Doesn't sound too hard considering we got a sample of the kiddo's soul. It'll act like a guide to her planet and last location before ending up in that stupidity infested town. The telescope used for my forest will boost our chances since it's linked to the realm of yours truly." A larger smug smile grew on the specter's face that earned him an eye roll from the other ghost.

With a simple spell, the telescope to Subcon had undergone a significant change. It was now larger with the brown cover replaced with a deep violet marked by red spirals, a second notch by the lenses marked with a J, and a mechanism that changed the lense for a bright sea green one. "There we go. Now the telescope can warp to your world and not just Subcon Forest with a turn of the notch." Moonjumper didn't expect the sudden hug from the woman and Snatcher didn't expect her to hug him next. Hat Kid's hug wasn't a surprise.

What's Up Danger vanished as Jodie recalled the being back into her own soul. "Thank you guys! I hope we can meet again in the future someday but for now this is goodbye. My family is probably worried or on a crusade for that Stand User so best to put out the flaming torches and put down any Stand Rushes quickly as possible. Sayonara and Arigato." With a smile on her face, the girl vanished in the light of the telescope.

Snatcher and Moonjumper stared at the object a bit longer before instinctively looking at Hat Kid. She had a very familiar disaster impending smile on her face. "You're going to follow her, aren't you?" The chained specter was answered by the smug look in the child's eyes. "At least give her three days. I want to see what kind of face she makes when we pop up. Plus there's a book of spells that might come in handy."

An impossible thing to knock about Snatcher and Hat Kid. When you grab their interest expect to follow you with every chance they get. And prepare for the impending mayhem to follow. Ghosts and children always tend to cause mischievous mishaps after all.

This is another Hat in Time crossover but instead I used Jojo's Bizarre Adventure. Hat Kid here is a bit more chatty because I want to practice all sorts of interactions especially with two diverse sets of characters from two different franchises.

While Unappreciated Hunter was exploration in its style, this is more of how these very unique series interact with another when you take into consideration how vastly different they are. Kind of like a melting pot as characters handle brand new situations and the oddities provided.

This is all my first attempt at writing Moonjumper so I hope I did good. Until next time folks!

This is Jodie Joestar and her Stand What's Up Danger! Alongside the song that her name comes from.

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fairycosmos · 4 years

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I have my finale exam tomorrow and I'm 99,9% sure that I'll fail. I feel like such a failure right now. I could retake the school year but why I understand the school work then, if I don't understand it now. I'll probably stay unemployed forever, because I'm so anxious at job interviews and I literally don't know how to talk to people. Maybe it'd be the best if I didn't exist because nothing would change if wasn't here anyway. I wouldn't be missed and I know I will never be happy anyway.

hey dude, listen. it sounds a bit like you’re spiraling right now and i really think it’d do you some good to just take a step back and breathe. i hope the test went okay, and by okay i hope i mean you got through it, because that’s literally all you can ask of yourself. it’s natural to be nervous about such things and if you’re also struggling with mental illness on top of that, it’s easy to get lost in the heaviness of that anxiety. making big unfounded assumptions about your future, feeling a sense of doom, thinking in black and whites instead of recognizing the nuance and middle ground - all of those are red flags, not reliable thought processes that you need to build your life around. it’s okay to process negative emotions, to be upset and to feel overwhelmed and to want to give up at at times. we all need to break down a little when we’re overwhelmed so we can let some of that pent up tension out. but that should look like allowing yourself to cry, reaching out to those around you, getting some rest, and removing yourself from situations that exacerbate the pain when possible. not harming yourself in hopes of dulling those emotions, because that’s how you get stuck in a cycle of self destruction that is more suffocating than just confronting the pain and trying to let it go. look, you’re young and life is generally a lot longer than it seems when you’re in school, in the sense that we learn how resilient we are over and over again. we’re supposed to ‘mess up.’ things go ‘wrong ’and then we carve our paths out of that, and we adapt. whether we realize it or not. you’ve done it before, and you can do it again. if it turns out you have to retake the school year, then with the extra time and maybe additional support from your teachers, the school work may become a little clearer if you give it the chance and try out new learning techniques to find what works for you. that doesn’t make you a failure at all. you clearly care a lot about your future, and you’ve already made so much more progress than you realize. i know it doesn’t seem like it in this moment. but seriously, whatever happens, after the initial disappointment and frustration, you WILL be able to return to a sense of normality. the extent of how much it hurts right now is not permanent. there’s truly no set time schedule for education, no matter how much they want to convince us otherwise. you just have to do what you can with what you’ve been given. that’s more than good enough. you’re more than good enough. and about job interviews - try to slow down. there’s absolutely no evidence that you will be unemployed forever, in fact it’s very unlikely, and your worth/future happiness doesn’t rely on that factor anyway. honestly, i’ve been to a few job interviews by now and i’ve always thought the same thing about myself. especially when i was in school, i thought i knew, that there was no way i could handle it, no way anyone would take me on. and they are uncomfortable and nerve wracking, sure. but they’re also not the beginning and end of the world. nobody is expecting you to be the worlds best talker especially when you’re new to the whole thing. it’s about showing your enthusiasm and your skillset, and if you dont believe you have one, you do. you just cant see it because you dont like yourself right now. i’ve been rejected from jobs too, and yeah it’s a dig at the self esteem, but it’s not a personal failure. it’s just the nature of applying for a position that loads of other people are also applying for. you learn to accept it. but you don’t even have to carry that weight yet, love. so try to recognize what your brain is doing by bombarding you with worries that are entirely out of your control, and that there is no actual proof of. more than anything, it’s important to remember that school nor your career defines everything that you are. we’re taught from a young age that we only deserve to be here if we’re ‘useful’ by capitalist standards, if we can justify the space we take up. but it’s a fucking lieeeeee. raising us like that is the only way to get us to work work work without questioning it too much. it’s got nothing to do with you and everything to do with the world being a soul sucking machine. so, relax. you deserve to be here and you deserve to be gentle with yourself, nothing changes that. not tests or the future or your self hatred. i know it’s hard to believe that such concepts apply to you, but they do. nothing and nobody would be better off without you, i promise. when you’re in a dark place it’s only normal to believe that you’ll never be happy, but it’s really not the case in reality. happiness is an emotion that comes and goes like all else, and it is entirely possible for it to become a consistent theme in your life. that is, if you’re able to make it through this part. if you’re able to try to engage in healthier coping mechanisms so that you see your situation from multiple perspectives, rather than just from a one dimensional ‘things will never get better’ stand point. even if you just have to survive hour by hour, until you get there.

i’d really recommend considering talking to someone about what’s happening in your head right now, man. i know that’s not what you want to hear and part of you will want to immediately write it off, but try to pause and keep it in the back of your mind. whether it’s a teacher, a parent/family member, a school counselor, a mental health hotline, a friend, your doctor - there are so many people out there who have the tools to help you learn to manage. and it doesn’t matter if the process is slow or non linear, or if you have to force the words out. all that matters is that you try. whatever that means to you, even if some days it’s just staying in your room and breathing through it. you can recognize that not wanting to be here any more is an unhealthy thought, indicating that there is a lot more going on beneath the surface, yeah? it’s alright to talk about that and to let others in. our mental health is often just as fragile as our physical health and sometimes it needs medical intervention in order to be adequately supported, and that’s totally fine. yeah, opening up is embarrassing and yeah it’s not something anyone ‘wants’ to do, but it’s often very necessary, because it’ll allows people to be able to relate with and guide you. please consider your own needs and know that there is no shame in speaking up. even if you have to take some time to find the courage. honestly, you don’t even need to go into great detail. a simple ‘i need help and i’m not sure what to do’ is a great place to start with someone you trust, or someone who is in a position to help you. anyway, i’m sorry this got super long. navigating school is fuckin difficult at the best of times, and i’m infinitely proud of you for making it to this point and for being able to articulate your feelings like this to me. i have no doubt that you will be able to get through this if you give yourself the time and the tools do so. and i dont say that lightly at all. try to ground yourself for now, and start again tomorrow. if you want to talk about this properly or if you ever need a friend, my dms/inbox will be open. take care. focus on one day at a time.

#anon

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tozierwho · 5 years

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(1) Edward Kaspbrak had rather hoped the day wouldn't come-- as much as he'd resented his sickliness, the limitations it placed upon him, the incessant fussing of his mother, there were things it spared him, too. Certain embarrassments he might have suffered had he not been kept from this activity or that. The fact that he had never been expected to be a lover. He was an unattractive prospect in all ways-- delicate, ill, un-moneyed. And his mother had long seemed in no hurry to see him wed.

(2) He’d been so glad not to face the pressure that his friends fell to. Not that they all saw it that way– most of their motley little group saw the prospect of marriage as a happy one. While he sat at home with his mother, his friends lived. Did the season, if they were of a social class to. Courted, even if they were not. Got kicked out of every reputable function, if they were one Richard Tozier, who would hang around the Kaspbrak house’s back door recounting how dull each party was.

(3) Lean on the sill of the dutch door and pinch a cheek and call him ‘Eddie’ at best and several other nicknames as well, if he was in a mood to, and every time, Eddie would dutifully frown against the urge to laugh, and bat him away, and say that it sounded as though the evening was quite the opposite of dull by the time Richie got through with it– somehow there was no outgrowing childish nicknames either way, when they were together– and Richie would say it was always dull without him.

(4) Now it’s Eddie who must suffer through a dull party– not as fine as the ones some of his friends are trotted around to and shown off at, but nice enough– and he looks at Myra (“It means 'sweet-smelling oil’.” She had told him. He had not known what 'Edward’ meant), and he does not want to dance with her, or speak with her. It is not that anything about her is offensive to him, but nothing about her is anything else to him, either. She inspires no spark, no pull, no passion.

(5) She is the girl his mother had picked out for him to pay attention to, but he doesn’t feel anything, when she smiles at him over her fan, when she leans towards him, when her generous decolletage spills just slightly over the confines of her dress. He’s supposed to feel something about that, he gathers as much from the way other young men talk. The way Richie in particular talks, loudly, and in mixed company at that– even if the mixed company is only one Miss Marsh.

(6) More than that, he wants a blush to rise to his cheeks, he wants to find himself unable to stop from smiling. He wants to feel as if a new dawn rises in her gaze, or if not hers, someone’s. Isn’t that what love is? To feel both flustered and certain? To feel alive? To long to take someone’s hand and lead them out into some secluded corner of the garden where you might speak in private, where you might look upon that beautiful face by moonlight, and think it finer than the rest?

(7) Myra politely accepts a dance from a family friend, her smile apologetic as she cites etiquette– it wouldn’t do to spend the whole night only speaking to each other! He nods, distracted, and does not look for someone else to dance with. He appreciates having the settee to himself, to think about what love is, what it isn’t, how it wouldn’t be physical beauty, but the sheer virtue of the face belonging to the right person, which would make him find a person beautiful.

(8) He tries to imagine himself asking a girl to walk with him unchaperoned by moonlight, but the only girl he can imagine asking is Beverly, and he can’t imagine whispering words of love or trying to kiss her in an unsupervised moment. Confiding in her as a brother to a sister, perhaps, laughing about something together, but… He tries to imagine any other lady, with any other blend of qualities to recommend her by, and tries to imagine what it is he might want to say or do if he knew her.

(9) The best he can come up with is not very good, and he still can’t imagine himself asking for her hand, or leading her around to some dimly-lit spot between rosebushes. What would he want to do out wedged between the shrubbery, anyway? It makes him think of being eleven or twelve, running as fast as he could, hand in hand with Richie escaping the fallout of his mischief with him, tumbling into a hiding spot to catch their breath, faces near and grins splitting them, the warmth of his laugh…

(10) Richie could lead him out into the garden, he thinks, and they could have a very pleasant talk, and it wouldn’t even be scandalous because no one has ever needed to chaperone him with Richie, absurd to think it. Absurd to… absurd to think that Richie would draw him into some secluded place, and whisper suggestions into his ear, and place a hand upon his waist, he never has before. Absurd to think of Richie’s mouth doing anything other than talking at him, to think of it soft against his.

(11) Eddie can’t breathe. Which is not particularly surprising, but is distressing. He is at a party, he hasn’t got his chloroform liniment, and even if he had, he certainly couldn’t disrobe sufficiently to apply it. He staggers from the room, and out into the garden, where at least it is dark and no one is in evidence, and he can tear off his cravat and undo his collar, but he still isn’t breathing properly. He could cry, if he could get enough air to. How can this be happening to him?

(12) Richie! Richard Tozier, one of his closest friends! Bad enough to discover himself having impure thoughts about some… some athlete spotted upon a playing field, some labourer seen at work, but Richie! Richie, who trusts him implicitly and who visits him so often when his health demands he not venture far from his bed, who has never once withdrawn the hand of friendship from him… how could he repay him thus?

(13) It is so terribly unfair to him, to have such feelings. To know them now, in all their strange intensity. To recognize for what it is the emotion which always swept through him at Richie’s attentions. He has such a hideous understanding now, for why Richie’s visits have always felt different from the rest, for why he might wait hours by the kitchen door with no real expectation of seeing him, only hope. The warmth that might fill him at the slightest touch.

(14) He has dreamt… he has dreamt about all of his friends, and the dreams of Richie alone stir him, but he had told himself these unseemly things had nothing to do with the waking world, that it was a mistake, that he had forgotten some vital part of his dreaming. Dreamt of anything– anyone– else. What he remembers is never lewd, but the state he often wakes in, even when his dreams are only soft and gentle… this only happens when it’s Richie.

(15) He doesn’t know how to want, carnally, but his skin pricks with heat as he realizes that he does. He yearns for things he cannot envision. He wants to know Richie’s touch, in shameful ways. Illegal ways. He cannot get any air, he cannot breathe, he feels as if he will die in this garden while the girl his mother wishes he could love dances with someone else, and no one will ever know he…know he…

(16) Someone catches him before he can collapse, he is pulled against a firm chest, a few buttons undone by quick and steady hands, before one proceeds to rub slow circles through his undershirt. No liniment, but his breath starts to return just the same, as if the mere act without the medicine could be enough. Or he is in a dream now and he has lost consciousness, for how else could it seem to be that Richie of all people has caught him?

(17) These are Richie’s hands, that’s Richie’s voice murmuring soothingly in his ear, finally audible over the pounding of his heart… Impossible, and yet his head clears, he is still in the garden, still conscious. He ought to pull himself away, and yet he allows the contact a little longer, allows Richie to carefully set him on his feet and walk him to a nearby bench. He would stay leaned up against him if he could, but it is enough to be near him, in his secret heart this is ever enough.

(18) “Richie!” He wheezes only a little around his name, and his face heats. He clutches his shirt closed as if he had not been seen a hundred times in less than this, a thousand. As if they had not slept in a single bed and swam naked before tonight, a thousand times. “What are you doing here? Surely you were not invited– after what I’ve heard of your season, that is, I had not expected to see you! And you might have told me if you were!”

(19) “Do you always thank your knights in shining armor so charmingly, Eddie dearest? If you must know, I was very much not invited.” He grins, leaning in as if nothing is wrong, as if he has no reason not to. As if he shouldn’t flee at once if he knew… But instead he allows his fingertips to glide over Eddie’s cheek without a care in the world. “How fortunate I should not have let that stop me.”

(20) “Stop you from what?” Eddie scowls, or tries to, but his heart beats so rapidly. Richie isn’t even in proper evening dress. His hair is wild and untamed– which only seems appropriate, if improper. He cups Eddie’s cheek in one warm, rough hand, the way he did when they were children whispering secrets. As it did then, it makes Eddie feel unnameable things. The thrill of a secret shared. More. “And anyhow, I haven’t any knights in shining armor.”

(21) “You have me.” Richie says, and his smile sends warmth dripping down into the core of Eddie like syrup. There is a soft light in his eyes, and all that poets have said on the subject of the effects of the moon is true and more. Eddie would very much like to be kissed beneath the moonlight. Richie’s gaze traces over his features, eyes half-lidded behind his spectacles, and he wonders, and hates himself for wondering.

(22) “You are hardly in shining armor.” Eddie swallows around the sudden lump in his throat. “You are not even in full dress, Sir. The scandal, should I be caught speaking to you out here, when you have broken in like a thief, and I a respectable guest! The things my mother should say, if she knew I was sitting here with you instead of paying my court to the lady of her choosing!”

(23) “Oh, a thief and not a knight, am I?” Richie’s grin only widens, and his free hand moves to snatch Eddie’s from its gesturing. “So be it! I’ll steal you, then. I’ll steal you away from her, and spirit you off to my… den, or– lair. No, den, thieves do have dens, I think. How shall that be, for a scandal? Poor Edward Kaspbrak, never seen again since he was stolen in the night, but I do hear he lives in luxury in some thief’s den!”

(24) ‘Steal you away from her’, the words echo in Eddie’s head. Her. Her. Her could mean his mother, or it could mean Myra. Either way it excites him, it inflames him beyond imagining, to be stolen. Even for a moment in the garden, to be stolen away… to be prized. And does not the one imply the other? Would Richie wish to steal him, were he a mere tawdry trifle?

(25) “Luxury?” His tongue is near-dumb in his mouth, thick and heavy, yet he forces himself to speak, to tease back until he truly cannot force another word to come. “You would keep me in luxury, if you were to steal me? Perhaps it is in my best interest to let you… I have never been kept in luxury before. I– Richie… I have never been a great many things, before. That is to say… that is to say, I have never–”

(26) “Nor I.” Richie leans closer, so close. “Come away with me tonight. Eddie, I swear– I may lead you to some little scandal, but not to ruin.” And his eyes flicker to Eddie’s lips, and linger there, before he tears his gaze away. “Not to ruin. I shall never– I shall never let you be– be harmed, do you know what I mean? Or blamed for anything, if– I shall never let you be blamed, Edward.”

(27) “Then you are serious.” He whispers, and it is not a question. Richie is serious so infrequently that he thinks it would be impossible to mistake. It is in the weight of his gaze, in the use of Eddie’s full Christian name, and in the gentle tremor of his hand where it strokes over Eddie’s cheek, tracing out the difference time has carved in his face. “And you may steal me. You may– take me.”

(28) Only a short while ago he was so terrified to even think it, but Richie’s wanting has made him bold. He had thought himself diseased, sinful, until he felt Richie’s desire, for he could never think those things of him. Rough and tumble and frequently dirty, impossibly improper, but never sick– never sinful. If Richie can feel such things for him, Eddie is certain they cannot be wrong. The things Richie has felt for him have been ever pure.

(29) There is no greater good in the world to him than those moments of care, of devotion, of childhood love in all its innocence, now set ablaze by manhood. Just as Richie’s touch maps where the softness of childhood has melted into new sharp lines and angles, Eddie sees Richie as he was and as he is at once, and knows him too deeply and too well to fear his love now.

(30/30) They leave by the garden gate, hand in hand. Eddie does not even leave word– later, he will tell his mother that a sudden spell took him and a friend was kind enough to take him home, she need never know the full truth of it, the press of their bodies side by side on the brown leather seat of Richie’s surrey, nor the kiss at the kitchen door, at their parting.

ANON THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I WANTED. i love you so much! this is just the cutest thing i’ve read and i’m literally crying. you’re so good at this and i appreciate you so so so so much! i don’t know who you are but my god thank you again for taking the time to write this for me

#reddie #fic rec #this is so good and wonderful #i love everything about it and i honestly want more #Anonymous #bite my ask why dontcha

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