Summary: The annual cross-country run has finally come and, whether you like it or not, you’re doomed to spend your morning baking in sweltering heat and pushing your legs until they scream.
When you trip and twist your ankle you wonder if there’s any point in hoping someone will help you, especially when certain athletic students seem hellbent on winning.
•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•
The Great Seven must have grown tired of your prayers to survive the Cross-Country run. You’d had your hands clasped together all morning begging them to fill you with some divine stamina.
In the dining hall, dozens of students from your gym class had overflowed their plates with protein in preparation for the big event. But their discussions all seemed to point towards the same question:
What was the point in running at all?
Winning was out of the question. Especially against Jack and Vil whom ran for fun and had physiques like marble statues. The pair were nowhere to be seen at breakfast. No doubt they were already warming up on the field.
•~•~•
Your gym kit clung to your skin. The race hadn’t even started yet but you were dripping with sweat. Vargas had chosen to host the run on the hottest day of the year.
Was it too late to fakean injury?
“Take your marks!” Vargas raised the start pistol high into the air. After quickly checking no one was on a broom- BANG! You were off.
A few souls were stupid enough to sprint ahead, but were soon overtaken by those going at a steady pace.
Your heart trembled in your chest. Lactic acid gnawed at your muscles, begging you to stop. But once you’d gotten over the first bout of exhaustion, you settled into a steady jog. Others were beginning to find their rhythm, too, and soon the race became spaced out.
•~•~•
Unkempt grass ticked your ankles, birds twittered in trees; making bets amongst themselves on which runner would beat whom. A dainty breeze glided across your boiling skin and kindly chilled it. You almost forgot you were on a run at all.
Is this how Jack and Vil feel when they run? you wondered. No wonder they did it for fun. Jogging through the countryside was blissful. Your leisurely pace had probably put you at the back by now, but you didn’t care.
“Don’t drag your feet as much, you might hurt your ankle.”
You jumped and spun around, colliding straight into Jack Howl. You couldn’t believe it. Surely the wolf beastman ought to have been miles ahead of you. Did that mean you weren’t as bad as thought?
“Thanks,” you squeaked, pushing yourself off his chest. The two of you settled back into a rhythm after exchanging awkward apologies. “Why are you so far behind?” you asked. “Don’t you do ten laps of the school before breakfast every day.”
“We’re not passed the halfway point yet.”
Your heart dropped into your stomach. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Vil and I have a bet to see who’ll win. Even though I’m a beastman that exercises a lot, I’m not immune to the fact if I over-exert myself I’ll bonk out. It’s best to go slow for 95% of a marathon, and then burn everything you’ve got left at the end.”
“If we’re not even at 50% I don’t see how I’ll even see 95% of this through.”
“And at 10%, when the lactic acid kicks in, no one can imagine getting to 50%. Yet here we are.”
Jack slicked his hair back from his scalp. His muscles glistened with sweat as his chest rose and fell like a powerful engine. There was certainly something about the strongest kid at school subtly reassuring you that made you want to see this through to the end. Even if you weren’t in contest with anyone, the determination to prove Jack’s words weren’t wasted was enough to spur you on.
•~•~•
The morning ticked by and you hadn’t seen anyone for most of it. The occasional students you passed were walking and chatting. Regardless of how much Jack barked at them to at least try and run the whole thing, he was shrugged off.
“They could be worse,” you said, running a little faster to keep from getting scolded yourself. “During cross-country at my old school these boys parked their cars at checkpoints around the course. Whenever a teacher was coming, they’d brake and run to a different car. They were caught in the end and we made to do the whole race again in the pouring rain days later.”
Jack clamped his lips together. Had you upset him? Had you opened yourself up to receive a lecture on those boys’ behalf? His face contorted as if pressure was building inside it. Then, to your relief, his mouth burst open with a booming laugh.
“Serves them right!”
You would have laughed too had you not smelled musty perfume on the air. Vil Schoenheit suddenly came running up behind you. His stride, his breathing, the way his sleeves were rolled up to his toned biceps, was perfect. You’d forgotten how powerful the man was under his dainty exterior. “Kick it into high gear now, Jack,” he said, picking up the pace. “The finish line’s practically a stone’s throw away.”
“Go on!” You clapped Jack on the back.
Jack didn’t need to be told twice. Without taking his eyes off his competition he picked up his knees and started running. It was incredible. How did he have the strength to do that? Vil’s shoulders tensed at Jack’s heavy footsteps crushing the grass behind him.
You didn’t want to miss a second of their silent fight.
Somehow, you had a little bit of stamina left. Jack and Vil were neck and neck. When one pulled forward, the other pushed themselves to catch up. They seemed like perfect counterbalances, forever exchanging strength from one to another so they never lost their flow.
You were so absorbed in what you saw that you hadn’t noticed your shoelaces had come undone. Jack had been right. You shouldn’t have dragged your feet so much. If you had listened, maybe you wouldn’t have tripped on them. Maybe you wouldn’t have fallen over. Maybe you wouldn’t have heard your ankle click.
Pain shot up your leg. You screamed.
Jack’s ears twitched. He spun around and froze at the sight of you writhing on the grass. Vil’s less sensitive ears didn’t seem to hear you. And if they did, he ignored you and kept powering ahead. Jack was caught at a cross roads.
Ever since turning up in Twisted Wonderland the likes of Jack Howl was the last kind of person you’d expected to befriend. He was - quite literally - a lone wolf, with physical fitness and sporting prowess being his key motivations. Despite being a part of your first-year squad, his commitment to exercise was what kept him from mingling with you and the others the most.
Still, you clung to the hope he’d help you.
Jack turned and ran after Vil again.
You weren’t sure what you were crying over: the pain in your ankle, or the fact you’d been left like a wounded horse to fend for itself. You tried to focus on the fact you wanted Jack to win. It took your mind off it, a little. Friends supported each other, right? You didn’t want him to fail because of you.
•~•~•
“UNLEASH THE BEAST!”
You turned towards the sudden cry and saw a cloud with paws bounding towards you. Now you’d definitely gone mad from the heat. It looked like a shaggy sheep. A sheep with sharp teeth. And fur. Whatever it was you couldn’t get away from it. You were too tired to even scream.
Once the beast was upon you it immediately shimmied its snout under your back and shook its shoulders to ease you onto its hide.
Fur, soft as silk, stroked your clammy face. You felt like a cygnet in its mother’s eiderdown. Satisfied about how it had positioned you, the wolf took off at a leisurely pace. You winced and seethed, but your noises were always met with the wolf looking back to check on you.
Before long, you reached the finish line.
Most of the students were already there, laying on the grass with increasingly reddening skin. Vil was one of the few still standing. He stood with his arms crossed and head cocked back in triumph.
“Turning into your wolf form, Jack?” said Mr Vargas, looking up from his clipboard. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to run the whole thing again for cheatin- Oh.”
Jack knelt down. You were resting peacefully on his back…and how could you not have fallen asleep against such fluffy trapeziuses?
Vargas looked you over and sighed at your ankle. It had turned purple. If it wasn’t broken it was definitely sprained nastily. “Perhaps I’ll make an exception for this then. Everyone! Hit the showers! See you again tomorrow for flying class.”
While Vargas went off to get his first-aid kit, Jack busied himself by taking your shirt collar in his mouth and laying you down flat on the grass. He made sure to keep your ankle elevated on his back. The pain woke you up and he whined in apology.
A mere glance into the wolf’s eyes and you knew who it was immediately. “Jack?”
He chuffed affirmatively.
You couldn’t stop your smile. Did you seriously mean enough to someone in this world that they would sacrifice their pride just to make sure you were alright? The very thought made the tears flow.
Vargas came back with a pep in his step that put you at ease. Surely a bad injury wouldn’t make your teacher happy. “It’s a good thing it’s flying class tomorrow, (Y/N),” he said heartily. “Whether you have a broken ankle or a broken neck, you can still fly a broomstick.”
Or not.
•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•
Author note:
What’s this? 2 fan fictions in 2 days? Que!?
Yeah ^^” I’m back on the old horse by the looks of things.
Truth is that I’ve caught COVID and have not spent a second away from my computer over the last 4 days. It’s definitely an ideal time to get stuck in with writing. I hope you like this one :) I haven’t written a fic on Jack as one of the protagonists before!
EXTRA: He has a long blue lizard tail extending out from his coccyx.
•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•
School Information:
School year: 3rd
Class: 3-A (Student no 7)
Best Subject: Magical Technology
Club: Mountain Appreciation Club
•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•
Facts:
Dominant Hand: Left
Likes: Long road trips; Older Magical Wheels models; Hot sunny days; loud music.
Dislikes: Rust; misplacing his tools; heights.
Favourite Food: Egg Sandwich
Least Favourite Food: Rock Cakes
Hobby: Bird watching; Building his own vehicles; hiding tools and gadgets in holes.
Unique Magic:Spanner in the Works. Jonah’s unique magic can disable machinery – be it mechanical, electrical, or magical. Depending on the sizeandcomplexity of the technology, Jonah will need to use more magic to keep it offline for longer.
•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•
Backstory:
Jonah Craggins hails from the Scalding Sands, specifically from his Uncle Moe’s mechanics workshopand is based of Joanna the Goanna fromThe Rescuers: Down Under.
Growing up, Jonah had cogs and sprockets to play with instead of dolls and teddies, which turned him into quite a proficient little tinker.
Whether it was vehicles, coffee machines, circuit boards, Jonah watched his Uncle like a hawk and developed a proficiency for mending broken gadgets. He was often caked in oilandgrease from all the things he got up to.
One day, he and his Uncle were driving back from an afternoon of mountain bird-watching when suddenly their car’s brakes cut off. The vehicle swervedandcrashed through the bollard on the side of a cliff. If it wasn’t for Jonah’s Unique Magic – Spanner in the Works–possessing the car and shutting it off, they likely would have driven off the mountainside. Jonah has had a chronic fear of heights ever since.
o~o~o
Back on the ground, Jonah busies himself with more than just tinkering and repairs. Being an avid fan of old-fashioned Magical Wheels, he’s been working for the last few years on building a discontinued model from scratch. He hopes to be able to incorporate some modern mechanisms into it to make it go as fast as possible.
What’s more, his attention span in lessons leaves much to be desired. Jonah knows he’ll always have a job at his Uncle Moe’s workshop so his commitment to academicsisbelow par. Much to the chagrin of the teachers, Jonah hides unfinished projects all around school. When their backs are turned, he reaches under the floorboards, or behind a shelf, and cracks on with whatever he’s currently working on.
He’s been held back a few years as a result. (He also hates rock cakes from breaking his tooth on one). Mrs Downey is a hawk assistant he rescued and gave a prostheticwing.
YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE THIS ☺️
Why can I hear this image? WHY CAN I HEAR THIS IMAGE SAYING ‘HEY, BABES’ AT ME!?!?!?!? AHHHHHHHHH!!!!! MY BIRB BOI LOOKS SO DARN CUTE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You’ve captured him so well!
JANI!!!!!!! I JUST WOKE UP!!!!!!! MY DAY CAN’T POSSIBLY GET BETTER FROM HERE! IT’S PEAKED AT 9AM! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS!!
Tallis is literally a social powder keg that exists to be the Aries Ana and Vil aren’t. Don’t worry, you two! Tallis is an alright chap.
Tallis: Welp- I’m a man of my word. *takes Ana by the hands and kisses them tenderly* Such beautiful hands and such beautiful work they make! This drawing will forever hold a special place in my heart, my dear lady. Thank you to the sun and back!
Would anyone be interested in a fic with MC/reader x my OCs (Vane, Billy, Ceridwen, Basil, Seth, Jonah, and Tallis)? Drop me an ask if you do and/or have a particular scenario request. xx
Summary:Sometimes you just need to drop everything and go for a walk. With the mounting stress of trying to survive the school year the woods are a great place for peace.
However, you can’t seriously believe you’d be allowed downtime, right? Do you know where you are? Who you are? And that you forgot to do something for a certain Pomefiore…
•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•
Dreary clouds clogged the sky, and Y/N’s mind wasn’t much better. Mulch squashed beneath their boots as they trudged through the woods; thoughts knocking about inside their skull. One after another. Relentless.
But amongst the arbour there were no overblots, Grim couldn’t embarrass them, and Crowley - with all his errands - were left back at NRC. It was truly a place where they could be at peace.
Seems a tree’s a tree no matter what world you’re from, they thought as they ran their hand across the grooved bark of a sycamore.
Finding familiarity in a world where nothing made sense was a relief. In fact, so familiar was this woodland that Y/N thought if they went back they wouldn’t see Ramshackle, but rather a National Park’s giftshop, or the family car – waiting to cart them off back home to their real life.
This isn’t what I was going for at all. Y/N kicked the path, sending dust and stones into the air. I’m not supposed to be thinking harder out here. A critter was disturbed in a bush nearby. Leaves rustled, but not enough to be a threat-
WHOOSH!
Y/N ducked as something whizzed past their ear. They could still hear the whistle of it, even after it embedded itself in the ground. What it was wasn’t up for debate: an arrow. With a flint head so sharp all of it disappeared into the earth.
“Quelle deçu,” someone muttered. Y/N jerked up. Their legs were giddy with adrenaline as they scanned the area. The treetops were empty, and the leaf piles weren’t big enough to hide a person. Had someone tried to shoot them? They weren’t going to let a second arrow answer.
After diving behind the thick trunk of an oak tree, they ran parallel to it. Whoever shot the arrow would have to reposition themselves for another shot. It was good enough cover, for now.
Eventually, trees started to look familiar. The path became more worn. Y/N took a break, crouching with their hands on their knees. No one had followed them. Not a single footstep could be heard.
Perhaps it wasn’t an arrow that they saw? Maybe it was a sharp twig that had snapped off a branch? And as for a voice? Well, a wind had started up. It could have just been that.
Feeling more self-assured, Y/N took a hasty step towards the tree line when their feet left the floor.
Panic bulldozed through them. Writhing and twisting were useless as they were hoisted higher by a rope around their ankle. When they were about six feet up, the rope around their ankle went taught.
Someone started to laugh. “I have to give you credit for almost escaping me, ma cherie.”
Y/N knew that French accent anywhere.
A shock of blond hair hopped out from behind a tree. Still riding the high from making a catch, Rook wasted no time in teasing Y/N. He swung them gently, pushing them a little higher each time they came back towards him.
“I’m going to be sick!”
Rook’s green eyes were sinister as they bore into Y/N’s. So malicious and devious. The look of a creature who has all the control and is only keeping their prey alive for amusement. Y/N hated the feeling. They struck out at the hunter, only for their wrist to be effortlessly caught and tied behind their back with the other.
At least the swinging stopped.
The knot was firm, executed in seconds. Rook briskly moved onto tying Y/N’s knees together. They kicked with vigour, screaming and cursing. Why was this happening?
•~•~•
Y/N didn’t engage with Pomefiores too much. Besides Epel who was part of their first-year troupe, Y/N only had business with Vil and Rook if they were asked to do a photo shoot…
“Vil has a tight schedule, Trickster,” Rook mused. “When you didn’t show up for the session we booked mon Roi de Poison sent me to fetch you.”
“So you did fire an arrow at me!”
Rook didn’t reply straight away. Securing Y/N’s legs together was top priority since. Prey backed into a corner can be more vicious than any predator.
“Pas du tout! I wasn’t aiming it at you. I was aiming for beside you. I wanted to spook you back towards the beginning of the woods where I’d laid my traps. I’m surprised you walked passed them in the first place. You lucky thing!”
Y/N heard the shing of a hunting knife being drawn. Panic. They twisted so frantically in their bindings that the skin on their wrists broke.
“Don’t damage yourself, ma Cherie.” Rook cut the rope around Y/N’s ankle. They plummeted, yelping, only to land on the hunter’s shoulder like slaughtered game.
Infuriated, they rammed their elbow towards Rook’s head, but the hunter evaded it and shifted Y/N further over his shoulder.
“This is ridiculous!” Y/N cried. “You could have just called me!”
“There’s no service in the woods. That is the beauté of it. It is untouched, unmarred by the influence of civilisation. An emerald amidst the grey stones of cities.”
•~•~•
Walking back to Ramshackle, Rook seemed in a world of his own. He stroked the bark and moss in a gentle caress. The other hand was clamped tightly around Y/N’s waist. They could feel taught muscles in the hunter’s forearms – toned sinew – a preview of the strength in his biceps and shoulders; strength no kicking or struggling could match in a million years.
“Besides,” added Rook, “I haven’t laid a trap for an animal bigger than a fox in a while. I don’t want my skills to go.”
“Great Seven bless Epel,” Y/N murmured.
“Quoi?”
“Nothing.”
Rook halted. Y/N’s chin hit his back.
Dread.
Why had they been so cocky? Regardless of how angry they felt, it was not a good idea to irritate their captor. Both of Rook’s calloused hands gripped Y/N’s waist and hoisted them off his shoulder. Rook’s eyes were cruel as he brought Y/N to his face. Cunning. But Y/N forced themselves to evade them and stick their tongue out instead.
Rook burst out laughing. “I love it when my prey is petty! I should hunt you more often.”
“The ropes are not necessary,” Y/N growled.
“They’re a precaution. Look at your face, and you did just try to hit me moments ago.”
Rook, still giggling, slid an arm under Y/N’s back, and the other beneath their useless legs. Y/N didn’t even think about kicking. Rook’s hold was experienced, cultivated over years of hauling game and firing arrows in woodlands.
As Y/N laid in his embrace, glowering up at him, they began to wonder about the eccentric vice dorm leader. After all, they couldn’t do much else.
•~•~•
Known throughout the school as a hunter, this was his niche, his passion. Like Y/N, Rook went into forests for escape. Despite being on an errand for Vil, he had taken the time to liberate himself, even if only for a few minutes, of his duties and had fun. Wasn’t that the same with Y/N and Crowley?
Plus, the chase had freed Y/N of their stressful thoughts. Were they angry? Of course. But they had to hand it to the hunter: Rook knew how to be thrilling. Maybe learning to hunt could be something to take up?
“You won’t be so lucky the next time we meet in the woods,” Y/N said. “And couldn’t you have taken Vil’s photos today? It’s not like you had a busy schedule yourself.”
Rook didn’t say anything. But his smug little smirk was answer enough.
Great, Y/N thought. Another thing to look out for in this crazy world. One of my own schoolmates playing literal cat and mouse with me. Well, two can play. Don’t go running to Vil when one day your quiver has a hole in the bottom.
