#jackie x anti
Because, for all that you can hurt me, you treat me gently.
—@esculentevil to my Mate (also/as Antisepticeye to Jackieboy-Man ;3)
((Be wary of my personal headcanons which are at the core of this fic. Also readable on AO3!))
Daemon Culture is primarily about who takes care of whom: House Heads take care of everyone under them; House Alphas and House Omegas help take care of Betas and Beasts; Mates take care of each other (and kids if they have them).
The primary way daemons take care of each other is making sure the other eats: whether they’re having sex or just offering an extra affectionate touch, daemons always show each other the care they know they’ll be denied anywhere else.
This is why, when Anti starts dating Jackie, there’s a huge period of It attempting to take care of him traditionally (through sex, touch, and just FEELING for him) and Jackie primarily not understanding It (or, much worse, not reciprocating it…).
And, at first, Anti’s
hurtfurious—how DARE this HUMAN not UNDERSTAND—until It realizes that humans simply require DIFFERENT methods of care: feeding Jackie isn’t about sex or touch or feelings but FOOD—COOKING—and, so… Anti begrudgingly learns how to do that—especially Jackie’s favorite meal: turkey burgers.
It takes a LONG time (because not only did It have to convince CHASE to help, but It also had to learn this new skill along side all Its glitching and phasing), but the tight/warm feeling in Its stomach as Jackie happily eats the first GOOD batch—and Jackie’s satiated smile afterwards that FILLS Anti right up—is worth it.
Anti, glaring and growling while cooking Its Mate’s turkey burgers: Fookin’—just HAD ta fall fer a fookin’ HUMAN—hwy couldn’t ye be a daemon!?
Jackie, amusedly and amorously watching his significant other cooking: ‘Cause I wouldn’t be ME if I were.
((Be wary of my personal headcanons which are at the core of this fic. Also readable on AO3!))
Daemon Culture is primarily about who takes care of whom: House Heads take care of everyone under them; House Alphas and House Omegas help take care of Betas and Beasts; Mates take care of each other (and kids if they have them).
The primary way daemons take care of each other is making sure the other eats: whether they’re having sex or just offering an extra affectionate touch, daemons always show each other the care they know they’ll be denied anywhere else.
This is why, when Anti starts dating Jackie, there’s a huge period of It attempting to take care of him traditionally (through sex, touch, and just FEELING for him) and Jackie primarily not understanding It (or, much worse, not reciprocating it…).
And, at first, Anti’s hurt furious—how DARE this HUMAN not UNDERSTAND—until It realizes that humans simply require DIFFERENT methods of care: feeding Jackie isn’t about sex or touch or feelings but FOOD—COOKING—and, so… Anti begrudgingly learns how to do that—especially Jackie’s favorite meal: turkey burgers.
It takes a LONG time (because not only did It have to convince CHASE to help, but It also had to learn this new skill along side all Its glitching and phasing), but the tight/warm feeling in Its stomach as Jackie happily eats the first GOOD batch—and Jackie’s satiated smile afterwards that FILLS Anti right up—is worth it.
((Alsoreadable on AO3!))
Anti sighs happily as It slowly wakes.
There’s a hand in the curve of Its lower back, warming and supporting it at once. Another, far more forward hand, is on Its thigh firmly kneading flames into it/It.
Farther warming It is a strong body beneath Its own, exuding heat like a furnace, as it breathes fire out of its nose, muscles, and pores.
The tiny daemon sleepily smiles as It buries Its face back into Its hero’s chest, letting his warm smell of burning wood take It back under…
((Alsoalso, kinda for @valpus-writing? Cuz we were talking about Anti and scenting before…))
Anti: [grumbling] Yer ‘ard as rock; hwy do Ah enjoy sleepin’ on ye???
Jackie: [smirking] ‘Cause I’m hot.
[As the summer heat rolls in]
Anti: Uuuuuugh, it’s too HOOOOOOT!
Everyego else: You’re laying on JACKIE!!!
Anti snuggles deeper into Jackie’s body, void purring loudly with a content smile, “MY lil’ fire bug~”
((Serialized AU where Jackie’s a selkie and Anti’s a pirate for MerMay2022! =D Also on AO3!))
“Seal skin, ey?”
Captain Anti of the pirate ship Abyss squints at the strange man before him. Marvin is his name and magic is his game—so he claims. The bottles around him somewhat support this—strange in shape and color and ability…
But Anti’s not so sure. (hWat’s ‘e want SEAL SKIN fer???)
“No, no!” The so called mage hastily makes his way back over to the pirate, hands moving to wave an old, ruddy, leather-bound tome under Anti’s nose.
The pirate crinkles his nose in an effort not to sneeze or cough.
It comes out as a scowl. Or a sneer.
They aren’t quite sure which.
Regardless, Marvin ignores it in favor of opening the book and showing Anti… Well, he’s not rightly sure WHAT that is, but it’s definitely not a SEAL.
At least, not fully.
“THIS is what I want,” Marvin exclaims, finger tapping emphatically on the image of a man—or what Anti THINKS is a man—appearing to… both BE a seal… and wearing a seal skin like it’s clothing. A woman is doing the same next to him; but Marvin’s not pointing at HER for some reason. “SELKIE skin.”
“Seal key skin?”
“SELKIE!”
“Silky skin???”
Anti sighs, tough but tapered fingers dancing around the rim of his scotch glass. “Selkie,” he reiterates, mouth forming the same shapes and sounds as Marvin after numerous near mocking attempts just an hour or so before.
He’d celebrate the small victory if it didn’t feel like the mage won.
(Won what, though, he isn’t sure
that it even matters...)“‘E wants SELKIE skin.” The surly pirate scowls as he downs his third drink, slamming the thick-bottomed tumbler against the tabletop when he’s done.
A bejeweled finger—because no pirate is ever complete without some bling—taps against the glass and it’s the barkeep’s turn to sigh as he tops it up.
“Ar son Dé! T’at freaky diabhal an’ ‘is focain fetishes!!!”
“Ye can always say no?”
“Shuddup, Chase!!!”
Tap, tap, tap!
Anti and Chase turn as one to look at the entrance of the latter’s small town pub. A well-groomed man stands there, tiny smile hidden under a shocking mustache, with a top hat in one hand and a
pimp (as Anti likes to call it)cane in the other. Both accessories match his alarmingly colorful, painfully detailed, silk clothes which only their beloved local tailor could everbe willing tomake.Chase grins at his husband, “Ev’nin’, James!”
[Good evening, Chase.] The Brit signs this with a shift of his prominent ‘stache indicating that his smile has gotten larger at the greeting of his partner. [Anti.] The gentleman’s top hat finds its way to aforementioned pirate’s head as James, clearly happy to see him visiting, settles down beside his drunken friend.
Chase rolls his eyes and gets his other half a drink.
[Thank you.] James very pointedly knocks Anti’s glass with his own, eyes aglow, before downing his namesake in one go. The pirate grunts gruffly in approval. [Been a while, old friend. What brings you here?]
Chase quietly joins them, curious about the answer (although he already knows a bit of it) and knowing none of the other patrons would come bother them.
(And, honestly, it’s been a long day and he deserves a break!)
Anti hums, drinking his scotch to the beat of Jameson’s toast, and then answers while ignoring the way his blonde childhood friend leans in close with his love. They’re a sight to see, he’d always thought (with not more than a touch of envy): a fancy pants tailor as blinged as him and a simple scruffy ragamuffin bartender.
(He still questions how they got together—and he LIVED it.)
“Some saucy cat wan’s some selkie skin.”
[Sell a key skin? What is a key skin?]
“Surgeon skin? Vhat, like a glove?”
Anti sighs and plops his tricorn hat down with an exasperated expression. Despite having an admittedly hard time with the word, himself, in the beginning, constantly hearing bizarre alternatives to selkie skin is quickly irritating him.
But, for his first mate, he’ll bear with it.
The German doctor nods after his captain explains, frown pulling down deeper after hearing the name Marvin (the two of them never got along: always arguing over the inanity of magic and the harm of science or the lack there of; in fact, Marv’ MIGHT have joined them on the sea way back when his commissioner, Damien “Dark” Iplier, granted him his letter of marque and reprisal if not for this). Anti attempts to ignore it; but his physician’s hard stare has never been that. “Ciúnaigh. ‘E’s payin’ good money.”
“To chase a fairy?”
“SELKIE.”
((Serialized AU where Jackie’s a selkie and Anti’s a pirate for MerMay2022! =D Also on AO3!))
“Seal skin, ey?”
Captain Anti of the pirate ship Abyss squints at the strange man before him. Marvin is his name and magic is his game—so he claims. The bottles around him somewhat support this—strange in shape and color and ability…
But Anti’s not so sure. (hWat’s ‘e want SEAL SKIN fer???)
“No, no!” The so called mage hastily makes his way back over to the pirate, hands moving to wave an old, ruddy, leather-bound tome under Anti’s nose.
The pirate crinkles his nose in an effort not to sneeze or cough.
It comes out as a scowl. Or a sneer.
They aren’t quite sure which.
Regardless, Marvin ignores it in favor of opening the book and showing Anti… Well, he’s not rightly sure WHAT that is, but it’s definitely not a SEAL.
At least, not fully.
“THIS is what I want,” Marvin exclaims, finger tapping emphatically on the image of a man—or what Anti THINKS is a man—appearing to… both BE a seal… and wearing a seal skin like it’s clothing. A woman is doing the same next to him; but Marvin’s not pointing at HER for some reason. “SELKIE skin.”
“Seal key skin?”
“SELKIE!”
“Silky skin???”
Anti sighs, tough but tapered fingers dancing around the rim of his scotch glass. “Selkie,” he reiterates, mouth forming the same shapes and sounds as Marvin after numerous near mocking attempts just an hour or so before.
He’d celebrate the small victory if it didn’t feel like the mage won.
(Won what, though, he isn’t sure
that it even matters...)“‘E wants SELKIE skin.” The surly pirate scowls as he downs his third drink, slamming the thick-bottomed tumbler against the tabletop when he’s done.
A bejeweled finger—because no pirate is ever complete without some bling—taps against the glass and it’s the barkeep’s turn to sigh as he tops it up.
“Ar son Dé! T’at freaky diabhal an’ ‘is focain fetishes!!!”
“Ye can always say no?”
“Shuddup, Chase!!!”
Tap, tap, tap!
Anti and Chase turn as one to look at the entrance of the latter’s small town pub. A well-groomed man stands there, tiny smile hidden under a shocking mustache, with a top hat in one hand and a pimp (as Anti likes to call it) cane in the other. Both accessories match his alarmingly colorful, painfully detailed, silk clothes which only their beloved local tailor could ever be willing tomake.
Chase grins at his husband, “Ev’nin’, James!”
[Good evening, Chase.] The Brit signs this with a shift of his prominent ‘stache indicating that his smile has gotten larger at the greeting of his partner. [Anti.] The gentleman’s top hat finds its way to aforementioned pirate’s head as James, clearly happy to see him visiting, settles down beside his drunken friend.
Chase rolls his eyes and gets his other half a drink.
[Thank you.] James very pointedly knocks Anti’s glass with his own, eyes aglow, before downing his namesake in one go. The pirate grunts gruffly in approval. [Been a while, old friend. What brings you here?]
Chase quietly joins them, curious about the answer (although he already knows a bit of it) and knowing none of the other patrons would come bother them.
(And, honestly, it’s been a long day and he deserves a break!)
Anti hums, drinking his scotch to the beat of Jameson’s toast, and then answers while ignoring the way his blonde childhood friend leans in close with his love. They’re a sight to see, he’d always thought (with not more than a touch of envy): a fancy pants tailor as blinged as him and a simple scruffy ragamuffin bartender.
(He still questions how they got together—and he LIVED it.)
“Some saucy cat wan’s some selkie skin.”
[Sell a key skin? What is a key skin?]
((Serialized AU where Jackie’s a selkie and Anti’s a pirate for MerMay2022! =D Also on AO3!))
“Seal skin, ey?”
Captain Anti of the pirate ship Abyss squints at the strange man before him. Marvin is his name and magic is his game—so he claims. The bottles around him somewhat support this—strange in shape and color and ability…
But Anti’s not so sure. (hWat’s ‘e want SEAL SKIN fer???)
“No, no!” The so called mage hastily makes his way back over to the pirate, hands moving to wave an old, ruddy, leather-bound tome under Anti’s nose.
The pirate crinkles his nose in an effort not to sneeze or cough.
It comes out as a scowl. Or a sneer.
They aren’t quite sure which.
Regardless, Marvin ignores it in favor of opening the book and showing Anti… Well, he’s not rightly sure WHAT that is, but it’s definitely not a SEAL.
At least, not fully.
“THIS is what I want,” Marvin exclaims, finger tapping emphatically on the image of a man—or what Anti THINKS is a man—appearing to… both BE a seal… and wearing a seal skin like it’s clothing. A woman is doing the same next to him; but Marvin’s not pointing at HER for some reason. “SELKIE skin.”
“Seal key skin?”
“SELKIE!”
“Silky skin???”
Anti sighs, tough but tapered fingers dancing around the rim of his scotch glass. “Selkie,” he reiterates, mouth forming the same shapes and sounds as Marvin after numerous near mocking attempts just an hour or so before.
He’d celebrate the small victory if it didn’t feel like the mage won.
(Won what, though, he isn’t sure that it even matters...)
“‘E wants SELKIE skin.” The surly pirate scowls as he downs his third drink, slamming the thick-bottomed tumbler against the tabletop when he’s done.
A bejeweled finger—because no pirate is ever complete without some bling—taps against the glass and it’s the barkeep’s turn to sigh as he tops it up.
“Ar son Dé! T’at freaky diabhal an’ ‘is focain fetishes!!!”
“Ye can always say no?”
“Shuddup, Chase!!!”
((Alsoreadable on AO3!))
Anti sighs happily as It slowly wakes.
There’s a hand in the curve of Its lower back, warming and supporting it at once. Another, far more forward hand, is on Its thigh firmly kneading flames into it/It.
Farther warming It is a strong body beneath Its own, exuding heat like a furnace, as it breathes fire out of its nose, muscles, and pores.
The tiny daemon sleepily smiles as It buries Its face back into Its hero’s chest, letting his warm smell of burning wood take It back under…
((Alsoalso, kinda for @valpus-writing? Cuz we were talking about Anti and scenting before…))
Anti: [grumbling] Yer ‘ard as rock; hwy do Ah enjoy sleepin’ on ye???
Jackie: [smirking] ‘Cause I’m hot.
[As the summer heat rolls in]
Anti: Uuuuuugh, it’s too HOOOOOOT!
Everyego else: You’re laying on JACKIE!!!
((Serialized AU where Jackie’s a selkie and Anti’s a pirate for MerMay2022! =D Also on AO3!))
“Seal skin, ey?”
Captain Anti of the pirate ship Abyss squints at the strange man before him. Marvin is his name and magic is his game—so he claims. The bottles around him somewhat support this—strange in shape and color and ability…
But Anti’s not so sure. (hWat’s ‘e want SEAL SKIN fer???)
“No, no!” The so called mage hastily makes his way back over to the pirate, hands moving to wave an old, ruddy, leather-bound tome under Anti’s nose.
The pirate crinkles his nose in an effort not to sneeze or cough.
It comes out as a scowl. Or a sneer.
They aren’t quite sure which.
Regardless, Marvin ignores it in favor of opening the book and showing Anti… Well, he’s not rightly sure WHAT that is, but it’s definitely not a SEAL.
At least, not fully.
“THIS is what I want,” Marvin exclaims, finger tapping emphatically on the image of a man—or what Anti THINKS is a man—appearing to… both BE a seal… and wearing a seal skin like it’s clothing. A woman is doing the same next to him; but Marvin’s not pointing at HER for some reason. “SELKIE skin.”
“Seal key skin?”
“SELKIE!”
Jackie is a war vet coming home from a long deployment.
Anti is his lucky black cat that he’s been missing for years now.
When he returns home, however, he finds his best friend, Marvin, missing—although he was supposed to be cat sitting Anti for him while he was deployed…
He goes to call him and ask where he is—but there’s a man in his kitchen.
Continue on AO3 or…
~
The man is short with dark skin (dark gray, he later learns) and black hair.
He has eerily familiar piercing green eyes when he turns, a CAT EAR flicking atop his head as he picks up the sounds of Jackie walking and gasping.
The can of tuna he’d been holding in his black clawed hands falls.
And then Jackie has an armful of purring, “YE’RE BACK!!!”
~
It turns out, Jackie learns, that Anti is actually a daemon.
A CAT daemon. He’d been arguing with a dog daemon (ex?) friend of his (Dark) in the alleyway Jackie had found him in and was too tired to tell him anything when the human decided to rescue him and nurse him back to health.
By the time he WAS healthy again…
He just liked being with Jackie.
~
Marvin, of course, still got an earful.
He WAS supposed to be watching him, after all.
Still, the flamboyant man only sighed and rolled his eyes.
He then revealed that he’d actually been a magician this whole time and realized, albeit belatedly and only after Anti refused to be taken care of by him, the truth when he came to cat sit Anti and found… well, a cat DAEMON instead.
(After a discussion, he decided to just bring the daemon food every few days.)
~
“So…” Jackie breathes deeply, trying not to be angry, “You just… left him???”
“Well…” Marvin, the veteran can somehow tell, looks around himself nervously, as though Jackie’s gonna pop out of no where and take him down (which, honestly, he COULD do). “He said he only wanted to be with YOU…”
The magician trails off unsurely but Jackie can hear the truth in his words.
He glances down at the purring cat daemon in his lap and sighs, “It’s fine.”
((Alsoreadable on AO3!))
Anti sighs happily as It slowly wakes.
There’s a hand in the curve of Its lower back, warming and supporting it at once. Another, far more forward hand, is on Its thigh firmly kneading flames into it/It.
Farther warming It is a strong body beneath Its own, exuding heat like a furnace, as it breathes fire out of its nose, muscles, and pores.
The tiny daemon sleepily smiles as It buries Its face back into Its hero’s chest, letting his warm smell of burning wood take It back under…
((Alsoalso, kinda for @valpus-writing? Cuz we were talking about Anti and scenting before…))
Anti: [grumbling] Yer ‘ard as rock; hwy do Ah enjoy sleepin’ on ye???
Jackie: [smirking] ‘Cause I’m hot.
